My Story, Olivia Savage

Date and marry someone you love, buy a house, have 2.5 kids, go on vacation somewhere once a year, try not to get too fat, try to keep up with cleaning and laundry, try to save for retirement, try to not think about how much time is going by, try to convince yourself this is what life is, watch re-runs of Big Bang Theory and House of Cards on Netflix. Sleep, eat (while trying not to get fat), work, repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

I bought into it, I did it all (minus the kiddos). On the outside my life must have looked pretty great and really on-track (yeah for me!). I had a house, a husband who loves me, a good job, went on vacations, tried not to get fat, blah, blah, blah, blah.

My hamster wheel was firmly in place. That little ‘squeak, squeak’ of the hinges going around was a comfortable sound, it meant I was running in the direction I should be running… right?

Then a moment in 2013 slapped me across the face and made me wake up. I realized I couldn’t stay at my job, the one I’d been working diligently away at for the past ten years, climbing my ladder up the company. The job I was really, really good at (Note to Self: Just because you’re good at something doesn’t meant it’s what you should do for the rest of your life).

I realized I needed to LEAVE my home town, the town I grew up in and had lived my entire life. The town that I could give directions to anywhere, anyplace, because I knew every twist and turn of it’s desert-sun soaked pavement. The town that held the house I’d bought with my husband. The house we’d spent four hard months of our life remodeling ourselves till it was something we loved and hand built by our own hands, together. The town where most my family lived (and still does), including my wise and amazing grandmother who has been one of the biggest influences on my life.

When I told her that I was thinking about leaving it all and doing something else she told me I should, and must, do that – that I must find my own person, my own way. It was finally time for me to run away from home.

So I did.

My husband & I fired our jobs, sold almost everything we owned and bought a travel trailer. We hit the road with a small bank account, a 22 foot house behind our truck, and a map in hand (ok, it was the GPS on our phones but I like the visual of a big o’ paper map taking up half the truck cab). The journey began – a exploration of how to live our lives by choice instead of chance.

It was (and still is) kind of terrifying to ‘leave all that behind…’ but now… now I wonder why I thought ‘all that’ was so important.

My accidental minimalistic lifestyle (can’t fit too many pairs Manolo boots in closet smaller than a clothes hamper) was an unexpected blessing in this journey but the true gift given to me has been time.

Time.

The one thing we can never, ever get back (can’t say that about money). Time with my husband, time to connect with family and friends (you know the ones you’ve always wanted to visit – and say you – but never seem to do), time to see amazing places, time to be alone, time to discover, time to be quiet, time to work, time to play.

Time to live.

Not living as I use to know it – through the leans of stress, exhaustion and never-ending to-do lists/ obligations running in my brain – but a real nitty-gritty “live your fucking life hard, squeeze out ever last drop” sort of way.

Is it that easy?

Um… no. Nothing is. And yes. Everything is.

I struggle, I fall, I wipe off the dust and get back up (just like you). Not having a ’stead’ job is scary and makes me wonder when we’ll have enough to start saving for retirement, putting money away for a rainy day, etc. Then I remember that I have access to the greatest gift for living… time.

I still stress about money and the future and get old and getting fat. But not as much as I use too… and those voices have started to fade. There’s too much life taking up space in my brain. My own “wohos” are drowning them out… and I’ve started telling them to shut the hell up. Cause I don’t have time to listen to them any more. My glass of wine is calling me and there are stories to be written, sunsets to be seen, kisses to be shared, breaths that need to be taken.

And it can’t wait, because I’m done waiting. I can’t even remember what I was waiting for in the first place. Can you?

Now I wake up every day scarred out of my mind… and oddly excited. I read more books, paint more, write more, eat more chocolate, love my husband more, love more, cry more, see more people and pour forth more – far beyond my former life as a faux zombie. I’m working on making this whole artist-creator, entrepreneur, lifestyle package work for me. I don’t have it all figured out and I’m still stumbling through the forest to find my way but I’m so happy to be moving and not standing still, not slowly sinking into the ground.

Because before I was sinking, l was getting sucked in. But now I figure that life’s going to kill you either way so what’s the worst that could happen?

And what’s the best?

Your greatest adventure is one step in front of you, a teeny-tiny step. So strap on those bitchin’ Manolo boots, grab a glass of wine for the road (or three) and hit the dusty path. You were meant for so much more living. I was too. So now I spend my days writing naughty books, cooking, painting, kissing, loving, and telling the voices in my head to shut up or join in the dance (I love to dance in my PJ). I’m working on finding/ building my gifts and giving them away. Little stacks of highly-flammable kindling are building around me waiting for a spark to ignite them.

And I intend to burn, baby, burn.

Join me, lets share a bottle of wine and set the world on fire.

Love, blessings and hot coffee be with you, my friend,

– Olivia –

P.S. If you identified with my story at all I’d love to chat with you on Facebook and Twitter. Look me up if you want to connect!