On Connections & Building Community When We Cannot Be Everywhere at Once

It’s a work in progress, but I’m learning creative ways to be connected and supportive without running myself ragged.

One of the things about traveling in such a way that you live your everyday life in different places is that you can end up feeling a little (or a lot) disjointed. Disconnected. Discombobulated.

You want to show up and be yourself in each of these places; to have a social life and make real connections. When I’m working remotely in a place for a month or more, I’m not on vacation. It’s not an escape from real life. This is my life, wherever that happens to be.

There’s still work stress to blow off, ideally with friends. There are neighbours to get along with. Places to explore with others. Hobbies and activities outside of work to enjoy, many of which inevitably involve other people.

Community and connection are part of the human experience, whether you spend your life in one home or many. And oftentimes, you end up truly caring about the people you meet along your journey.

I guess that’s how I ended up with little pieces of my heart just wandering around out there all over the place.

I’m thankful for every one of the connections I’ve made traveling, and keep up with many of those people to this day. Some are you are reading this blog!

There are connections that leave me feeling a bit torn, though. People I wish I could be there for more often. Communities I want to be more a part of.

The school I volunteer with in Nicaragua is one of those places. It brings me great happiness to be there, and I miss it when I’m not. I wish I could do more. But I don’t see myself physically being in that place for great stretches of time in the near future. Regret and its friends disappointment and guilt lurk around the edges of this understanding.

There’s always a trade-off, isn’t there? I miss my sons and Trevor when I’m not with them. I miss my brunch coven in Ontario, big city girl life with my friend in São Paulo, and communal breakfast space at my favourite coliving/coworking in Tallinn when I’m not in these places.

First-world problems, right?

Well, I’m not apologizing for that. I fully appreciate how very damn lucky I am to have so many people and places to miss. This isn’t a life I could have imagined for myself as a wounded girl, the daughter of an alcoholic growing up in poverty in a village of 800 in rural Canada. Or even as a 20-something navigating the inevitable fallout of that trauma pretty poorly.

I’ve known a much better life since those days, thank the goddesses. And now I’m just trying to find ways to stay more connected without feeling spread thin or that I’m letting people down by not being there when a more traditional friend would be.

COVID actually made that quite a bit easier in a lot of ways, primarily by making so many others comfortable with video calls and other remote ways of keeping in touch. I’ve been working remote for 20 years, and as a result, I’ve never even met some close connections in real life. That seemed super weird to many until just recently.

I’m working on finding ways to “be there” for people I care about when I cannot physically manifest on their doorstep at the right moments. And so it felt fan-freaking-tastic today to bring to life a way myself and others can be there for that Granada school community I care deeply about.

I’ve puzzled over this for a year now. The school had a dedicated Canadian benefactor, but that person unfortunately passed away three years ago. They’ve struggled to cover the operating costs since then. We’ve held a couple of fundraisers for them but as we well know, the ability for those in our local area to give is becoming more and more limited.

And with one boy in post-secondary and another headed there next year, Trevor and I are not in any position to sponsor a school to the extent needed.

But we can give a bit. And I finally figured out a way to put my skills and publishing knowledge to work for them by creating an online community-based publication. This way, anyone who volunteers at the school or is passionate about giving Nicaraguan youth a leg up can pitch in $10 a month and not only get updates from the school but share stories and messages back to the school, too.

Will it be enough? Time will tell. I’m willing to work at it, wherever I happen to be. And I’m feeling pretty good about having found a way to stay connected and supportive in a way that’s manageable and realistic for me.

That’s about all we can do, isn’t it? I have to learn to manage and exist alongside these feelings, as we’re just ramping up for serious nomad life in a few years. We’re talking six months in Asia (fingers crossed), RVing across Canada, maybe building that Nicaraguan casita we’ve been dreaming about.

We cannot be everywhere at once. We cannot be everything to everyone. But we cannot let the guilt or fear of missing out overwhelm, either. I’m going to keep looking for creative ways to stay connected in ways that feel right and good.

How about you? What do you do to quell the FOMO and have healthy boundaries while showing up for the people in your life? Full subscribers can share your tips or stories in the comments (or just respond to this email if you’re shy!).