After losing my dream job in New York, I sold everything and moved into an RV. It’s helped me redefine success.

• My husband and I sold our things and moved into an RV after I lost my dream job in New York City.
• Our new lifestyle has had challenges, but I’ve been able to breathe and reflect on my priorities.
• I’m still on the road now, and the experience has helped me build a new life on my own terms.

When I packed up my New York apartment for the last time, it wasn’t just a physical move. I was going through a profound emotional shift, a decision to rethink what success meant to me.

A year prior, I had moved from Dallas to chase a dream editorial role, believing that life in the city would be the ultimate marker of success. But after a sudden layoff, the skyline that once inspired me started to feel like a cage.

I was grieving not just my career but also my soul dog, who had passed away while we were living in the city. Without family nearby, I felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness and an urge to make a change. I craved a sense of freedom, without subway stops or deadlines.

So, my husband and I made a bold decision: We sold nearly everything we owned, bought an RV, and embarked on a journey of a lifetime.

Trading city life for the open road came with a learning curve

My husband was working remotely, and I had some savings from my job, which made it relatively easy for us to move quickly.

One day, we were at an RV show, and the next, we were the owners of a Class C motorhome. We had no plan beyond “go.”

At first, it felt thrilling. There’s something intoxicating about knowing your home can move whenever you want it to. I loved the feeling of swapping noise for stillness, skyscrapers for wide horizons.

Along with that freedom, however, came uncertainty. There was no more career ladder; no more predictable paycheck. Just two people, a handful of belongings, and a 32-foot home on wheels.

I’d always been a planner who thrived on control and achievement. Suddenly, I had to learn how to live without both.

The first night in the RV, we slept in a Cracker Barrel parking lot, a foreign concept to many but a natural rite of passage to the RV community.

Life on the road wasn’t the constant adventure I imagined

It was beautiful, yes, but also brutally quiet and at times incredibly stressful.

The long drives left room for reflection and forced me to face everything I’d been avoiding: grief, burnout, and a deep sense of disconnection.

Losing my dog while living in New York had gutted me, but I hadn’t truly allowed myself to process my feelings until we were parked in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by silence and nature.

The freedom I’d craved suddenly felt heavy. I’d run away from the noise, but I hadn’t quite been able to escape the weight of my own thoughts.

Still, somewhere between the empty roads and campfire nights, I started to feel myself changing. Without the constant push to “do more,” I learned how to just be.

RV life taught us to rethink what ‘home’ means and gave me a new definition of success

Eventually, we found rhythm in the unpredictability. We renovated our RV with new flooring, a fresh coat of paint, and subtle touches that made it feel more like a home than a vehicle.

I started taking on freelance work and writing again, and felt creativity flow like never before.

What once felt like an impulsive escape began to feel like a reclamation. I wasn’t chasing a title anymore — I was creating something that mattered to me, from a desk in a moving home.

RV life taught me a valuable lesson to find stability in motion and meaning in simplicity. I no longer needed square footage to feel grounded; I just needed space for myself.

This newfound understanding brought a sense of peace and reassurance that I carry with me every day.

A few years later, and we are still on the road. We’ve hit some bumps along the way — a hurricane in Galveston nearly set us back completely — but we’ve remained resilient. We even rescued a couple of pups along the way.

If you asked me years ago what success looked like, I would’ve said something about a corner office, a Central Park view, and a packed calendar. Now, it looks like this: morning coffee with my pups, a quiet sense of peace, and the knowledge that I’m living life on my own terms.

Losing my job in New York forced me to start over, but it also gave me the space to rebuild a life that feels like mine.