Get Away From Your Hometown: A Plane Ride’s Worth of Distance

Have you ever wondered what life could look like if you stepped away from everything you know? Not just for a quick getaway, but far enough that the familiar feels distant—far enough that you need a plane to go back.

Sometimes, that kind of distance is exactly what you need to figure out who you are and what you really want.

Why You Need Distance

When you’re away—and I mean there’s actual distance between you and the life you know, not just a two-hour drive—you start to see things differently.

I’m talking about needing a plane to go back and someone needing a plane to come see you. That kind of distance changes everything. It gives you the chance to look at your life from the outside, and that’s a whole different perspective. It’s eye-opening.

But you can’t get there unless you get out.

And then, you have to deal with yourself. You have to figure out who you are outside of that environment. You’re putting yourself in new situations, around people who don’t know you or your backstory. It’s a big moment for self-reflection.

You’ll see how people who’ve never met you respond to you. And maybe more importantly, you’ll see how you respond to them.

A lot of people stay where they are, and I don’t think they realize the value of going far away—far enough that you’re completely removed from what you know. It adds so much to your life. You can finally live exactly how you want.

I’m not saying you can’t do that at home, but at home, there are expectations. Obligations.

All this push and pull to follow some kind of “program”—go to school, get a job, buy a house, get married, have kids, blah blah blah. Stay in the same circle of friends, in the same group dynamic, doing the same things. And if you even think about stepping outside of that “norm,” you’re judged.

In my experience, there’s no time to fully develop or shed the programming that doesn’t serve you when you’re stuck in that cycle. I’ve always known I wanted to do things my way, but for the longest time, I didn’t know what “my way” looked like yet.

What I did know was that I wanted freedom and isolation. I wanted to live how I pleased without being obligated to do things I didn’t want to do. I didn’t want to hurt someone’s feelings because I skipped some distant cousin’s kindergarten graduation party. Or cause made-up “drama” because I wasn’t following the unwritten rules of my hometown.

Why is it that a lot of people I know seem to be on the same train, hitting the same stops, following the same sequence of events, in the same place we all grew up in?

I couldn’t do it. I needed to step off that train and take a different route.

Of course, leaving isn’t easy. Getting out is just the first step—what comes next is where the real work begins.

The Growing Pains of Independence

This is going to be a period of growing pains. It ain’t gonna be pretty. You’re going to have a lot of lonely days and nights. I had plenty of feelings of confusion, definitely some fear, and a whole lot of intimidation. And let’s not forget the uncomfortable situations.

It was time for me to put my big girl pants on and see what I was made of—what it’s really like out there when I’m the one calling the shots.

One thing I had to realize quickly was that no matter where I went, I still had to bring myself with me. I had to know how to manage myself before I could manage anybody else.

I needed to figure out how I handled situations where I was the only one responsible. I was my own go-to person.

The first time? You probably won’t handle it too well. I know I didn’t.

I didn’t handle a lot of situations well the first time—honestly, not even the second. I had plenty of meltdowns, crying spells, moments where I thought I sucked, and all that jazz. It was a hit to my confidence.

And it wasn’t just that I’d left my hometown—I left the country. Talk about a crash course in independence. I threw myself into cultural differences I had no idea how to navigate, and that added a whole other layer to my growing pains.

For instance, I had no idea how different social norms could feel—I once accidentally offended someone just by refusing to tell them what I earned. They were also offended by my directness, “None of your business.” 

But I’m telling you when I got the hang of it—when I started understanding that I create my environment and the rules that dictate my life—I felt set free.

Free from my old self. Free from the idea of myself that others had created for me.

That’s when I really started living and figuring out the way I always wanted to live.

I make the rules. I dictate the directions. I’m the one steering the ship.

Finding My Rhythm

Every year feels more refined than the last. Since creating my elaborate plan for this year, I’ve found more enthusiasm to wake up and tackle the things I’ve set out to do.

My mornings feel like a little slice of calm productivity. I give myself grace the first hour I’m physically awake to let my brain catch up. No guilt, no rush—just time to ease into the day.

I have time to scrummage through Instagram, drink my coffee, check my messages, and look at emails. Once that first cup of coffee hits, my brain is on, and it’s so much easier to read.

I spend 30 more minutes in bed doing focused reading, dedicating that time to business-related or personal development books. I notice I’m way more focused on the chapter I’m reading because there are no distractions. It’s like my mind got the chance to wake up at its own pace, so now it’s ready to really engage.

I haven’t even gotten out of bed yet, and already I’ve been productive.

It’s comforting to still be in my room, in my bed—a cue that my workday hasn’t started yet. I know that when I go to my office—yes, 10 feet from my bedroom—and sit down, it’s time to set up shop.

I like how I go about my day. I get everything done: my reading, my work, walking the dogs, cooking my food, doing my dishes. I’ve got a rhythm that works, and I can still fit in social outings, side hustles, and hobbies.

And honestly? I think about how well this wouldn’t work if I had to share my space with someone else—dogs don’t count. I’m talking about humans.

I like the life I’ve built—it’s calm, steady, and productive. I’m moving forward and leaving behind all the distractions—including people. So much noise about nonsense.

And maybe that’s why I’m so big on the idea of getting away. I wouldn’t have figured out this rhythm if I hadn’t stepped away from the life I used to know.

Stepping away gave me the space I needed to figure all this out. Without that plane ride’s worth of distance, I don’t think I’d have found this rhythm—a new version of me—or rather, the real me.