This Is Not a Waiting Room

This might be the most vulnerable thing I’ve ever written and shared. But here it is.

Sometimes while I’m pedaling—legs spinning, wind on my face—I feel overcome with gratitude. I think about how lucky I am. I was born into a family that’s been nothing but loving, supportive, and steady. My parents are my foundation. People often ask how I’ve cycled across the U.S. solo and unsupported—twice. Part of it is because I love bikes, love seeing the world up close, love the magic of strangers and the rhythm of the road. But honestly? I believe my resilience and courage come from growing up in a home without fear.

My parents never projected fear into our lives. Ever. Not when we left the house, not when we took risks. While others were saying “Be safe,” mine always said, “Have fun!” “Enjoy!” That mindset gave me permission to live wide, to welcome the unknown, to trust the world more than I feared it.

I feel fear, of course—I’m human. But I don’t let it keep me small. I believe in curiosity over comfort. Independence over expectation. And yes, I feel powerful when I do things alone. Many of my Warm Showers hosts tell me I’m one of the few women traveling solo they’ve ever hosted.

I read a quote today by Rainer Wylde that stopped me in my tracks:

“Don’t act your age. Act your magic. Act your hunger. Age has no idea who you are. Act the life you still have left in you.”

That line hit me hard. Act the life you still have left in you.

Why slow down when you don’t have to? Why stop dreaming?

So here it is: I want to talk about two of the most personal choices I’ve made in my life—being single and being childfree by choice.

Wylde also wrote:

 “Society asks us to settle down. To build stockades out of fear and call them homes. To guard against the ones who refuse to conform… The wild ones are labeled unstable. The passionate ones, irresponsible.”

And it made me think: some people see me—single, childfree—and assume something’s wrong. That I’m lonely. That I must have been hurt. That I’m avoidant, afraid of intimacy, damaged in some way.

But that’s not my truth.

I have loved deeply. I’ve had two decade-long relationships with men I loved and respected. I chose to end both. I’m not proud or ashamed of that—just honest. They were loving, and still are. Both men are still in my life as close friends.

I’ve also chosen, with complete clarity, not to have children. Access to birth control gave me that freedom. I’m grateful every day for that choice. #ThanksBirthControl

It’s not because I don’t love kids—I’ve spent over two decades helping raise other people’s children. As a mentor, godparent, stepmom, and bonus-mom. I love these six humans, and many are now adults who still bring meaning to my life. But for me, having children of my own did not feel like the path. I’ve known that. I’ve honored it.

And I’ve built a life I love. It’s rich. It’s full. I’ve worked with and for youth across the country. I’ve created impact.

There’s research out there that says childfree adults are often just as happy, if not happier, than those with children—especially during the early parenting years. I’m not here to say everyone should make my choice. I’m here to say the pressure to have kids, partner up, “settle down”—it’s heavy. And it’s not always right.

Let’s talk about being single, too.

This idea that you meet someone and they’re supposed to grow with you for every decade of your life? I question that. Not out of cynicism—but out of reality. Maybe we’re perfect for each other in our 30s, but misaligned in our 60s. What if love is seasonal? What if commitment isn’t forever or nothing? What if I’m meant to have these amazing interludes (as a friend calls my single moments in time) that are fun and intimate?

Maybe I just love differently. I love deeply. Sometimes wildly. I have no shame about being intimate with multiple people over the course of my life. It’s beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. I have no shame about loving people even when we’re not “building a future” in the traditional sense.

And I’m not in a waiting room.

While single…

I’ve cycled solo across the U.S.—twice.

I’ve hiked through Tuscany.

I’ve spent a month in Brazil, over two trips.

I’ve traveled to Mexico City.

I’ve loved. I’ve been loved. I’ve had incredible intimacy, and unforgettable connection.

I’ve grown.

There’s a quote by Stefanos Sifandos that says:

“What if being single is where you find everything?” 

Yes. Yes, and.

Being single is where I’ve found freedom, clarity, strength. It’s not lesser. It’s not a pause. It’s a place where I thrive.

Would I love a partner to share all this with? Sure. But I don’t need one to validate the joy I already feel. If someone joins me for my adventures in 2026, amazing. If not, I’ll go with family, with friends, or alone—and love every damn minute of it.

One last quote from Wylde, because… it’s everything:

“Let life surprise you. Be illogical. Ungovernable. Untamed. Feral. Free. Stop being so damned realistic. Dream. Imagine. Want what they told you was too much. Speak in the voice you buried in order to be loved… Let joy ruin your schedule. Fall in love without asking if it’s wise… Be radiant. Be real.”

Even if that means that’s not what society, culture, religion, your family, and your friends expect from you.

This is the life I’m living.

Radiant. Real. Unapologetically mine.

Thanks for reading. xoxo Jess.