Twenty Years Ago, I Stopped Saying “One Day”

October always makes me reflective. Two of the biggest decisions of my life happened this month: on 19 October 2006, I moved to London; on 15 October 2013, I left to travel the world. Both involved packing my bags, saying goodbye and stepping into a life I had wanted for years.

Today marks twenty years since I moved to London—the beginning of my life as a wanderer. Four days ago, I celebrated thirteen years since leaving to travel the world. Twenty years. That is a slightly ridiculous number to write when I can still remember how much I wanted to get on that plane.

Usually, these anniversaries find their way onto my travel blog. Last year, I also wrote here about how London and travelling shaped my coaching—the ability to adapt, connect with different people and be a chameleon while remaining myself. This year, I keep coming back to something else: how those dreams became things I actually did.

Because recently, I had a conversation with someone about what they were working towards. There were things they wanted to change, things they were frustrated with and ideas about what might be nice. But when we got to the goal, there wasn’t a clear answer.

And honestly? That happens a lot.

London was a goal long before it was my home

I had wanted to live in London for years. My parents had one condition: university first. So I completed a five-year degree, knowing throughout those years where I wanted to go afterwards.

London already influenced my decisions. I flew over for interviews several times. I asked a friend whether I could bring luggage for her to keep, moving my belongings in advance. I was preparing for the move while I was still finishing the life I would be leaving.

That October, I had one university subject left to complete. I finished it, and three days later, I moved to London.

Three days. I wasn’t hanging around.

But those three days were the end of a much longer process. I had spent years wanting it, preparing for it and taking steps towards it. By the time I could leave, I had already done much of the work that made leaving possible.

That is the part people don’t always see when they look at someone else’s big life change. They see the departure, the photographs, the exciting new chapter. Behind it are decisions, research, interviews, arrangements and a lot of ordinary actions that eventually add up to something extraordinary.

I was already behaving like someone who was moving to London. Eventually, I got on the plane.

The world trip needed more than enthusiasm

Travelling the world was another dream I had carried for years. And yes, I talked about it. But at some point, I had to get specific enough to do something about it.

How much money would I need? How long did I want to travel? Where did I want to go? What kind of experience did I want? When would I leave, and what needed to happen before that date?

These were practical questions with consequences. The answers affected how I saved, what I prioritised and how I prepared. Giving myself a timeline meant I could work backwards and understand what I needed to do.

“One day” became a date. Travelling became a plan I could execute.

On 15 October 2013, I packed my bags, said goodbye and left. I returned in May 2016, having spent years doing something that had once existed only as an idea in my head.

I am proud of that. I’m proud of both departures. They took courage, and they took commitment long before anyone saw me leave.

Wanting change and working towards it are different things

This is where that recent conversation comes back to me. I coach intelligent, capable people who are doing a huge amount, yet sometimes struggle to identify what all that effort is supposed to lead to.

They want a better job, more money, less stress, more balance or more freedom. Fair enough. But what does “better” actually mean? What would more freedom allow you to do? How would you recognise the life you say you want if you haven’t described it?

A vague desire is a starting point. You still have to give it direction.

You can work incredibly hard without moving towards something that matters to you. You can spend years being responsible, productive and available to everyone, while your own ambitions remain somewhere at the bottom of the list.

There is always something urgent. Someone needs an answer. Work gets busy. Family needs you. Something breaks. Another week disappears. Then you look up and think: how the hell is it October again?

I understand that life is demanding. Plans also need to change, and having a goal doesn’t give you control over every circumstance. But it gives you something to make decisions against. It helps you recognise opportunities, decide what deserves your attention and notice when you are repeatedly postponing something important.

If you never choose a direction, your time will still get filled. Other people are very good at finding things for you to do.

Your goal doesn’t need a boarding pass

Moving to London and travelling the world were my goals. Yours don’t have to look anything like them.

You might want to change jobs, complete a qualification, build savings, start a business or finally make room for something you enjoy. You might want to work out what comes next after years of meeting everyone else’s needs. A goal can be quiet, personal and completely uninteresting to anyone looking at your Instagram.

It still matters.

The point is to know what you are working towards and why it deserves a place in your life. “I want less stress” might lead you to address your workload, set a boundary or plan a career change. “I want to travel” might lead you to choose a destination, calculate a budget and start saving. Specificity gives you something you can act on.

This is a conversation I have constantly in coaching. What do you want? What would achieving it look like? What is getting in the way? What can you do next?

Sometimes people need support. Sometimes they need structure. Sometimes they need someone to challenge the explanation they have been giving themselves for the last five years.

And sometimes they need to admit that the thing they keep calling a dream has never been given any actual space in their diary.

October is a good time to get honest

We are in the final quarter of the year. There is still time to make progress, and there is no requirement to wait until January before taking yourself seriously.

Give yourself an hour this week. Put your phone away and open a blank page. Paper, Notes, Notion—I don’t care. The point is to pay attention long enough to answer honestly.

• Where am I right now? Describe the reality, including what you usually gloss over.

• What do I want by the end of this year? Choose one to three things that genuinely matter to you.

• What is working, and what isn’t?

• What am I avoiding?

• What are the next five actions that would move me towards what I want?

Then put the first action in your calendar. Give it time, give it a place and follow through. If something needs to be researched, research it. If a conversation needs to happen, arrange it. If the goal needs money, work out the numbers.

You don’t need to solve your entire future this week. But you can stop leaving everything in the vague, comfortable territory of “eventually”.

Twenty years later

When I think about the woman who moved to London twenty years ago, I remember how clear she was about wanting to go. I remember the interviews, the luggage at my friend’s and the determination to finish university so I could finally leave.

Seven years later, I gave another dream that same attention. A timeline, a budget, a plan—and then a departure.

Those decisions changed my life. They also gave me experiences and perspective that I bring into my coaching every day. I know the work involved in making a change because I have done it myself, and I know how much can begin with getting honest about what you want.

So this October, I am celebrating. Twenty years since London. Thirteen years since leaving to travel the world. Two dreams I took seriously enough to act on.

And I’m asking you to take yours seriously, too.

What do you keep saying you want—and what are you actually doing to make it happen?

Love and truth,
Emma