Quitting my 9-5 to go travelling was the most freeing, fulfilling, and terrifying thing I’ve ever done. And now that I’m home, four months later — unemployed, restless, and completely unsure of what comes next — I’m realising that the decision to go isn’t free from consequences.

Here’s the truth about what happens when you drop everything to chase adventure… and what nobody tells you about coming home.

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Why I “Quit” My Job to Travel

Funny story I actually didn’t want to outright quit. I didn’t want to feel as though I was taking a massive gamble with my career. I wanted the security that I could come home to the salary straight away. My boyfriend was going down the sabbatical route with his company so I tried to do the same. However, to cut a very long (and potentially unlawful story short, I was asked when my resignation date would be rather than my return date… So I had no choice but to quit.

Deep down I was hoping that through my travel content or some other delusional way I would have figured it out so I wouldn’t have needed to go back anyway. Like many others in their mid-twenties, I had ended up feeling felt stuck. I had a career that I’d been building, a decent job, a decently salary coming in every month, a pension pot. However it was a flat routine, and I had a quiet but persistent sense that life was slipping past me in calendar invites and office small talk. I would scroll on TravelTok (the travel side of TikTok) and long to have the experience that other 20-somethings were having. I wanted more than weekends and annual leave. I wanted freedom to go anywhere, collect stories from far away places and gain a perspective I’ve never had before. I wanted to feel alive.

So anyway, I quit. I booked the flights. And together with my boyfriend we backpacked across Southeast Asia. With nothing but a backpack and the kind of chaotic excitement that only comes from doing something that makes no logical sense. It did feel completely right, however.

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Why Going TRAVELLing Was the Best Decision I’ve Ever Made

Looking back now and even as I was travelling, I know and knew, without question that those months were some of the best of my life.

•  I felt more alive than I ever had before — from watching sunsets over ancient temples, going on hot air balloon rides at sunrise over the Lao mountains and taking sleeper trains into the unknown.
•  I met people from every walk of life — solo backpackers, expats, locals who became friends, digital nomads who redefined “work.”
•  I learnt more about the world and myself in a few months than I had in years sitting at a desk.
•  I proved to myself I could handle it: the culture shock, the language barriers, the wrong turns, the homesickness and all the other illness, plus the joy. All of it.

Travelling gave me clarity, confidence, and courage. It made me feel like the truest version of myself — curious, connected, capable. I laughed harder. I moved slower. I saw beauty in places and people I’d never have crossed paths with if I’d stayed where I was.

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Why It Was Also the Hardest Decision I’ve Ever Made

But what happens after the dream?

I came home, and instead of feeling refreshed and inspired, I felt like I was grieving.

Grieving the freedom.
Grieving the friendships that only make sense on the road.
Grieving the version of me who didn’t know what the next day was going to look like.

I’ve now been home for four months, and I still haven’t got a job. Not because I haven’t tried. I really have. I’ve submitted so many applications I’ve lost count. I’ve even been ghosted after interviews. To be truthful, the longer this has gone on I’m not sure I want to go back to that life. The office. The 9-5. The same four walls. It all feels… off.

And worse? I have too many options. Should I go back into marketing? Start freelancing? Write a book? Launch a business? Leave again? Go backpacking again? Move to Australia?

The freedom I craved so deeply before now feels like its own kind of prison — an overwhelming number of doors with no clear one to walk through.

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The Reality of Post-Travel Blues

What no one talks about enough is the emotional comedown after long-term travelling. When you’re away, every day is new. Your senses are on fire. Your brain is constantly learning. And when you come home? Everything is the same — except you.

I scroll job listings and feel like I’m forcing myself to shrink again. Like I’m trying to stuff this new version of me back into a box I no longer fit in. It’s paralysing. And lonely.

Because how do you explain to people that you’re homesick for a lifestyle that doesn’t really exist here?

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What I’ve Learned (So Far)

If you’re thinking about quitting your job to go travelling: do it.
But also know this: it won’t magically solve everything.

It will teach you more than any career move ever could, but it might also leave you more confused than when you left.

Still, I wouldn’t take it back. Because in the chaos, I found clarity:
I don’t want to live on autopilot.
I want a life that allows room for adventure — not just on holiday.
I want to create. To write. To share stories.
I want to travel far and wide. For football matches, for sunsets, for people.

Even though I don’t know what the next step is yet, I trust that something will come from all of this — and that the feeling of being alive is something I can keep chasing, even in new ways.

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Quitting my job to go travelling was the best and worst decision I’ve made — because it gave me everything, and then took it all away in one plane ride home.

But maybe that’s the point. Maybe the goal was never to have it all figured out, but to just start asking the right questions.

To live a little louder. To risk regret less. To chase what lights you up — even if you’re not sure how it ends.

If any of you are in the same boat my dm’s are always open.

And as always enjoy your Travels

Em x

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