Recently, I received a message from my son’s grand-aunt who watched one of my YouTube videos. It was thoughtful, reflective, and—if I’m being honest—a little hard to read. She said, in part:

“Romance is sadly an illusion… The void is real. It’s missing that connection with another person like when you found your first close friend. Life is boring—accept that—and the trees around your home will become fascinating. You’re lucky to have enough money to buy new toys and move to new places… But Santa and the tooth fairy are no longer real.”

There’s a lot packed into that message. And at first, it made me pause. Maybe even wince a little. Because she wasn’t entirely wrong. But she also wasn’t entirely right. So here’s my response—not just to her, but to anyone looking at my life from the outside and wondering what it’s all really for.

Romance Isn’t the Answer, But Neither Is Giving Up on It

She said romance is an illusion. I’ve spent enough time trying to find fulfillment through relationships to understand where that belief comes from. I’ve been married. I’ve tried to save a man who didn’t want saving. I’ve compromised my needs to avoid being alone. I’ve tried to be enough for someone who wouldn’t let me close.

And each time, I came face to face with the same truth:
No amount of romance can make you feel whole when you don’t know how to sit with yourself.

But I also don’t believe that romance is an illusion. I think inauthentic romance is an illusion. The kind where people hide their wounds, mask their fears, and pretend to be someone they’re not. The kind where it’s about control, or safety, or distraction—not truth.

Real love—vulnerable, conscious, mutual—is not an illusion. It’s just rare.

The Void Is Real, But It’s Not What You Think

I know the void. I’ve felt it. And I’ve tried to fill it in all the classic ways:

• Through relationships.
• Through productivity.
• Through possessions.
• Through being who I thought others wanted me to be.

But here’s what I’ve learned: the void isn’t a hole that needs filling—it’s a space that needs listening.

It’s the part of you that says:
There’s something more. You’re not aligned. You’re not living fully yet.

And so no, I won’t accept boredom as the end game. I won’t sit quietly with my coffee staring at the trees, telling myself to be content with what doesn’t feel alive. I’m not interested in numbing the ache—I want to walk into it and see what it has to teach me.

This Isn’t About “Buying Toys” — It’s About Choosing Intention

From the outside, I get it. I’m outfitting a vehicle. I’m traveling with my kids. I’m documenting it on social media. To someone who doesn’t know me well, it might look like I’m just trying to entertain myself. Like I’m bored and chasing novelty.

But this life I’m creating isn’t a toy. It’s a reclamation.
It’s me saying, “I am no longer waiting for someone else to give me permission to live fully.”

I’ve done the routine. I’ve played the roles. I’ve smiled through the boredom, and I’ve shrunk myself to fit into lives I didn’t want. And now? I’m done with all that.

Self-Validation Isn’t Loud — It’s Quiet and Steady

For a long time, I looked outside myself for validation. I looked for it in my relationships, in my achievements, in my image. But self-worth built on external approval is like building a house on sand. It doesn’t last.

What I’m learning now—what this trip is helping me embody—is that true self-validation is quiet. It’s the moment you look at your life and say:
“Even if no one else gets it… I do. And that’s enough.”

I’m Not Escaping Life. I’m Choosing to Live It.

Maybe life is boring sometimes. Maybe there’s wisdom in learning to sit still, to notice the trees. But for me, this chapter isn’t about learning to accept boredom—it’s about listening to the voice that’s been telling me for years, “There’s more.”

More freedom.
More connection.
More self-trust.
More life.

And no, I’m not chasing romance anymore. But I am still open to love—the kind that meets me where I am, the kind that’s real and deep and mutual. And I know I’ll recognize it when it comes, because I finally know what it’s not.

So Here’s My Truth:

I’m not trying to escape the void.
I’m trying to understand it.
I’m not running from routine.
I’m seeking a life that lights me up.
And I’m not looking for someone to complete me.
I’m learning how to be complete on my own.

This isn’t about toys.
This is about freedom.
This is about alignment.
This is about choosing to live fully, before it’s too late.