The Culture Shock of Coming Home

Why neither escaping nor achieving society's metrics of success is likely to make you happy, but embracing the power of human connection will.

I’m back in Europe after a year of sailing, biking, and travelling for a brief pause before journeying on with Falkor and crew.

Back in Barcelona, with the Barcelona gays, my old tribe, my dysfunctional family, my very human community.

When I decided to leave the big-city life two years ago, I was in a ditch—emotionally and spiritually. I had taken the party lifestyle to its extreme. At least to the point where the pain outweighed the short-term relief of escape.

Being back has made me reflect on how far I’ve come, where I’m still growing, and if I could have gotten the same results without blowing up my old life and sailing into the sunset.

Comfort is the enemy of growth, and not all stress is bad

First conclusion: my nervous system, which has been on alert 24/7 during the last months of sailing, can finally relax. Sleeping through the night without checking if the anchor is holding. Catching the subway without worrying about engine failure. Hiding in a café while it rains instead of riding out a storm at the helm.

All of this more than compensates for the chaos of the city.

Truth is, not even the most influential advocates of the simple life in the outdoors—like Henry Thoreau or Fridtjof Nansen—permanently abandoned the urban. For all their insistence on the healing power of pristine nature, they always returned to the city’s social fabric and comforts.

And so, it seems, do I.

Sailing demands constant attention, energy expenditure, and discipline. It is stressful, but maybe the right kind of stress?

But when I do, I notice something: that pushing past my comfort zone out at sea has changed my baseline. Once the storm is over, mundane problems feel a little less serious and a little more… mundane.

The Stoic thesis that friction builds resilience seems to hold. Our biggest leaps of growth take place outside the comfort zone.

And maybe I’m stating the obvious here. But we need a reminder that when grown-ups with Peter Pan syndrome throw themselves into reckless adventures, it might not be such a stupid idea.

The mean little voice inside our heads

Through this journey, I’ve often fallen prey to the trap of comparison and negative self-talk: while my peers are raising kids, building careers, and paying down mortgages, I’m pouring my energy, life savings, and time into an activity that some might say is just another kind of escapism.

A hedonistic pursuit of some romanticised idea of adventure. The irresponsible, privileged, narcissistic indulgence of a middle-aged guy who wants life to be “fun”.

Have I caved in to hedonistic indulgences, or am I finally living a life of meaning?

That’s the fearful voice that wants to keep me small, speaking, by the way. The voice instilled in us by a society obsessed with material pursuits. The one that tells us that accumulation equals success equals social standing equals safety.

Even if I’m well aware that I’m not the failure this voice wants me to believe that I am, I just haven’t been able to shut it up—especially not out at sea.

Long-distance cruising has felt like a marathon of negative self-talk.

But returning to Europe has shaken me out of excessive identifications with materialist metrics of success. Why? Well, for once, cause being back in an old environment shows me all the areas where I have grown: I’m calmer when finances are tight, I don’t indulge in escapism like I used to, I’m OK with leaving the party early, and I’m OK with leaving the party alone. I’m OK with not having a fancy job to prop up my confidence. And I’m OK with not knowing what the future will hold.

Finally, I’m starting to viscerally feel that success in life might be more related to spiritual growth—to the way we show up for ourselves and others.

Is this what detoxing feels like?

Purse or purpose? We’ve been trained to consume as an antidote to existential anxiety, instead of embracing life as an adventure.

Navigating challenges together

My body is catching up with what my mind already knew, and an important reason is that I’m no longer comparing myself to the fantasy version of other people’s lives.

You see, being far out at sea and imagining life back home is not so different from lying on the couch and imagining life at sea—our projections of others are usually rosy idealisations while we reserve the demanding realities of the human experience to our own immediate, minuscule universe.

But here’s the truth: right now, we’re all in the pressure cooker.

The fantasy of limitless abundance and individual freedom has created expectations that are impossible to fulfill, especially when we try to live them out in a system geared towards profit, not purpose. We’re all chasing some fantasy life that simply does not exist. Or, in the very few cases where it does, lacks the emotional tone we’ve been told that it has.

Right now, the world is full of new home-owners weighed down by debt, newly weds discovering that they married the wrong partner, and successful entrepreneurs on the verge of burnout. The perfect life does not exists.

Realising we’re not alone in our struggles can bring instant relief.

Friendships can’t be lived out through a screen, and the power of human connection is fuelled by sharing vulnerabilities.

The power of community

And that brings me to the second reason why returning to Barcelona has felt like the right medicine at the perfect moment—because of the way the city has welcomed me home.

I’ve been hosted, fed, and cared for by friends who feel like family.

I’ve shared tender moments, received cuddles, and had deep conversations with people I love.

Coming home has shown me that the power of community trumps the weight of broken expectations. When we’re with our friends, when we feel seen, held, and supported, it is the biggest balm for the soul.

There are many forms of love, and friendship is, perhaps, my favorite.

And it can soothe even the most dysregulated nervous system—as long as we can look past what life hasn’t given us, and notice what’s already there.

Perhaps happiness is not about choosing between adventure and belonging. Perhaps it lives somewhere in the tension between the two.

In any case, thank you Barca, for being a home <3