I found myself immersed in a bubble bath, chest-deep in warm water and surrounded by fragrant foam that popped and fizzed. I had planned this moment meticulously: as the clock struck midnight and I turned 40, I would be relaxing in an opulent bubble bath on the coast of Algeria, setting a picturesque backdrop to reflect on the future ahead.

Indulging in a rare night at a luxurious hilltop estate adorned with intricate arches and vibrant tiles, I cherished the experience. Outside my window, palm trees danced in the gentle breeze, while the twinkling lights of the Bay of Algiers sparkled invitingly. This stunning hotel, built in a Moorish revival style in the late 19th century, was a far cry from the more modest accommodations I had become accustomed to during my years as a freelance journalist.

During the past few years, I had settled into a desk job, maneuvering through life on autopilot. This monotony began during the lifeless days of the pandemic, a time when a sudden loss further deepened my emotional numbness. My father’s unexpected passing in 2020 marked a significant turning point, compelling me to reevaluate my life purpose.

Navigating Grief While Working a Desk Job

In those challenging Covid-19 days, social gatherings were no longer an option, and the idea of comforting grieving individuals felt nearly impossible. We skipped holding a funeral for my father, opting instead for a gathering with my brothers in California. Our attempts at symbolic mourning—stacking stones on the beach or screaming at the surf—were overshadowed by the chaotic sounds of a nearby rally and the ominous glow of wildfires. Ultimately, a shared meal of fish tacos became our only form of solace.

Even before this profound loss, a sense of malaise had begun to take hold. My life had transformed into a predictable routine, much like the creeping waistline of aging. Overworking played a significant role; after years of globetrotting across diverse landscapes—Kyrgyzstan, Lebanon, and India—I had settled into a full-time desk role. My father had derisively termed such work “living death,” a sentiment that resonated deeply with me. Each day felt achingly similar, and although my role was intellectually stimulating, the confines of corporate life left me feeling trapped.

Months into this corporate existence, I faced the harsh reality of grief. Writing a simple “condolences” email felt woefully inadequate, especially after my dad’s passing. Our cold exchange in cubicle decorum left me questioning whether this would be my existence—marking pivotal life moments with sterile, emotionless responses from colleagues. Grief weighed heavily, but productivity demanded a mask of composure. I pushed through joylessly, drowning in a sea of emails as a means to evade deeper feelings—eventually leading to burnout.

Rediscovering Freedom Through Freelance Work

As I approached my 40th birthday, I recognized the urgent need to reclaim my essence, particularly the adventurous writer within me that I had set aside in my quest for stability. When a magazine offered me a freelance assignment in Algeria, the excitement surged. This marked my first solo trip for reporting in four years, stirring a mix of eagerness and anxiety about navigating unfamiliar territories and striking up conversations with strangers.

After several days in Oran and Algiers, my instincts kicked back in; I felt invigorated and alive. To better understand local culture, I ventured into vibrant cabaret clubs, where talented singers enthralled audiences with daring Arabic lyrics against the backdrop of swirling smoke and lively spirits. It was around 2 a.m. one night that I truly realized: this was precisely where I was meant to be.

On the eve of my milestone birthday, gazing at my reflection while soaking in the luxurious hotel tub, I pondered the boldness of Algerian rai singers, who risked their lives for their art. Although my personal journey didn’t compare to their struggles, it highlighted the importance of embracing one’s individuality. In light of the experiences faced by women from past generations, who often felt confined to conventional roles, the act of living authentically became an empowering rebellion.

Ultimately, while there’s nothing inherently wrong with a conventional lifestyle, standing on the brink of midlife, I recognized an undeniable urge for the thrill of a blank page—a yearning to return to the exhilarating freedom that comes with living life on one’s own terms.