Fear holds so many of us back. In jobs we hate, relationships we’re only luke-warm about, and places we’re used to. But what if you just let go of those fears and take a leap of faith into the unknown? Move to a new country. Take that job offer you’ve been making pros-and-cons lists about. Go on that blind date.

How I got the guts to pick up and move is something I often get asked about. I’ve dared to make that leap and chase my dreams full-force, despite the risks, and I’ve reaped the rewards.

It all started with my first move as a university student, two time zones away from my hometown in Ottawa, to do a 4-month-long summer internship at the Edmonton Journal. Granted, that move was decidedly risk-free, since it was short-term, I would get paid and gain valuable work experience. I did this again the next summer, heading to Toronto for four months. Then came London, England, where I spent a year doing a second Master’s degree.

These are the kinds of moves people make every day. They take guts, but aren’t so risky because we know there is something important to gain, and we’ll come home at the end. It’s the kind of bigger-picture moves that can be a little more daunting.

After returning from England, I was lucky enough to land a great, stable staff job at CBC Television right in the comfort of my hometown and within months of graduating. There I was, a Senior Researcher at the Parliamentary Bureau for Canada’s premiere broadcaster, also doing interviews for reporters across the country who needed a clip from Ottawa, as well as some production work and reporting for the local news during parliamentary recesses. It’s the kind of job many journalism grads would kill for.

The thing is: I was restless. I dreamed of becoming a foreign correspondent, and after two years there, I was getting impatient. So I talked to my boss, and one of the top news directors of CBC at the time, about potential career paths. I was told it would take me about 10 years to work my way up to a foreign posting—maybe 15 since I looked young. That was too long for me! The other option, he said, was to go off into the world and set myself up somewhere where CBC didn’t have a correspondent, and freelance—for CBC and anyone else who would pay me. So that’s what I did!

I was willing to give up the comfort and security I had attained in favour of wanderlust, and in order to chase what I truly desired.

Choosing where to go wasn’t hard. Spanish is actually my mother tongue, my mother was born in Chile, and I’d been travelling there to visit family for extended vacations ever since I could remember. In fact, I’d always wanted to live there. I had cousins, aunts and uncles that I could rely on in case everything went terribly wrong. And I could always come home if things didn’t work out, I reasoned.

But that’s the thing: I knew things would work out. My soul chose this path. And am I ever happy I dared to chase my dreams.

Within weeks of moving to Chile, I had set myself up in a tiny one-bedroom, with my closet as a makeshift sound booth, and I already had my first reporting gig preparing a documentary for the awesome CBC Radio show Dispatches! I’d meticulously built up contact lists for foreign editors around the world, and I started pitching, relentlessly. I got turned down—sure. Or ignored. A lot. But I didn’t let it phase me. I just kept pitching. Eventually I would almost always get a bite, even if the same editor had ignored my first 10 story ideas. Soon, I was reporting for radio, television, newspapers and magazines from around the world, even in Spanish and French. I also got to travel, either by pitching an idea beforehand or just heading somewhere and finding stories on the ground. This was risky sometimes—like when I rode along with a mobile unit that frees slaves in Brazil’s jungles, got tear-gassed during street protests in Chile, or came upon an armed paramilitary in Paraguay.

But I was in my element. I was living with passion, and purpose, doing exactly what I’d always wanted to do! I couldn’t have been happier. I even met my husband while covering some stories in Venezuela—we were both just passing through. He soon moved to Chile, doing his Master’s degree and accompanying me on many reporting adventures.

Then I got a job offer in communications at the UN. It was supposed to be temporary position, which kept getting extended. I must admit, having benefits like maternity and sick leave were enticing when we wanted to start a family. That temporary job turned into a staff job that led me down a 10-year career path that eventually took us and our young kids to New York City.

New York was the first time I’d ever lived somewhere where I had no family and no plans to return home (although ‘home’ is a relative term for me now). The city was huge and exciting, and we found the perfect family-friendly neighbourhood with a 15-minute commute. I landed in an amazing team in my first female-dominated workplace, editing success stories from around the world. It was a welcome change in so many ways. I also handled web production and put together some impressive editorial packages, despite our limited resources. The workload was intense and our organization was underfunded, like so many important international organizations.

Maybe it was also just the New York lifestyle, but we all worked long hours—every day. I was committed to the mandate, the work and my team, but I must admit that with two young kids, the grueling workload, on-call weekends, and not being able to get home in time to put them to bed many days had started getting to me. Then a family health scare led us to reconsider everything.

My husband is from Aruba, a tiny tourist paradise with a population of just over 100,000. I’d never lived in a city of under a million, and had always moved abroad for my career. We’d visited Aruba on vacation, but I never imagined us actually living there, other than as Margarita-sipping retirees. I mean, what would I ever do for work? But after losing my father to cancer a few years earlier, health crises took on a whole new meaning for me. So we decided to move to Aruba—or at least give it a shot for a year. This move was perhaps my riskiest yet. It’s incredibly hard to get into the UN so people seldom leave once they’re on-staff. Plus, we had two young kids, my husband didn’t have a job lined up, and I knew I wouldn’t be allowed to work for at least a year. But I knew in my heart that this was what we had to do… and I had some plans for how to spend my free time.

I’d always dreamed of writing a book, like many journalists who go into the profession after realizing that being an author is often tantamount to a life of poverty. But now that I was taking a sabbatical of sorts, I had the rare luxury of being able to spend my time doing whatever I wanted, without thinking of whether I would get paid. Luckily we had savings and my hubby eventually found a stable job. That year has been amazing. I got to spent precious quality time with my kids and, inspired by my years as a journalist and with UN, I wrote my first fiction novel—a feminist young adult collection of short stories about girls facing different forms of violence around the world. I’m now working on finding an agent or a publisher.

The moral of this long and hopefully-not-too-rambling blog post is… When you desire something, deeply, and you’re prepared to take risks to wholeheartedly pursue it, the universe has a way of conspiring to help you get there. Even if the path is winding. But you’ll never know if you can make it, unless you’re willing to take a chance.

So don’t be afraid to pick up and completely reinvent your life. Every time I’ve done it, I’ve experienced something new and wonderful. Sure, it can be scary at first. What if I don’t like it there? What if I can’t find work? What if I fail? And I won’t lie, the logistics of an international move can be maddening at times. But nothing is insurmountable. The short-term stress will often be rewarded with long-term happiness, or a valuable learning experience. At the very least, you won’t have to live your life with regret, thinking about those what-ifs…

So, what are you waiting for?

 

Author’s note: This may seem like an unusual first blog for my professional website, but I wanted to put it out there because it’s something I get asked about a lot, and it helps to explain my career path—or at least reassure you that I’m not a fugitive.