I Left the Life Everyone Told Me I Should Want—And Found Myself on the Water
I didn’t grow up on the ocean. I didn’t come from a sailing family or dream of living on a boat. What I did grow up with was a deep knowing that something about “normal life” didn’t feel quite right for me.
From a young age, I was navigating hard things on my own. I placed myself into foster care at 12 and fought in court to stay there. Not because I was rebellious, but because I trusted my gut even then. I knew I had to choose a different path, even if no one understood it.
That decision changed my life.
My foster mom gave me a stable home, but more than that—she gave me love, discipline, self-worth, and a sense of belonging I had never felt before. We’re still close to this day. She showed me what it meant to be seen, supported, and held to a higher standard because someone believes in you. And maybe hardest to admit—she showed me what it felt like to not be constantly hungry. Ekk. Even writing that still brings tears to my eyes. It’s a part of my story that shaped me in ways I’m still unpacking.
By 22, I was a young mom and a homeowner. I was going to college, managing on social assistance, and building something from scratch. Everyone around me thought I was doing amazing—and in many ways, I was. But beneath the surface, I felt disconnected. Like I was living a version of life I never really chose, just inherited.
In between jobs, I dabbled in everything from marketing to car sales. I was even fired from a dealership after topping the sales chart in my first three months. That was a wake-up call. It was a reminder that the “old boys club” still exists, and that no matter how well you perform, corporate systems are built to protect the status quo. That experience helped confirm what I already knew deep down—the way we’re told to live is broken, and I needed to find a way out.
Then in 2013, the universe handed me something different.
I was in between jobs with some savings tucked away, and for once, my kids were spending time with their dad. Someone asked me if I wanted to help sail a boat from Kingston, Ontario to the Bahamas and back.
I had zero sailing experience. I didn’t have a plan. But something inside me said yes before I could talk myself out of it.
That one yes cracked open everything.
We spent ten months at sea. I learned how to read the wind, how to trust my instincts, and how to be okay with stillness and discomfort. Life on a sailboat isn’t always glamorous. It’s cramped, raw, unpredictable. But it was the first time I had felt truly free.
I have so many stories from that trip—sunrises in silence, storms that tested me, moments that changed how I see everything. But I’ll save those for another blog post.
That trip became a compass for everything that followed.
When I got back to Canada, I started racing 30-foot sailboats every Thursday in the summers. At one point, I was gifted my first sailboat. There was one condition: I could never sell it. I had to give it away when I was done and pay it forward. That rule stuck with me. It wasn’t just about a boat—it was about how freedom should move. Not be hoarded. Not be owned. Just passed on to the next person ready to receive it.
I kept managing Airbnb properties, raising my kids, and working, but something in me had shifted. I no longer believed in the version of success I used to chase.
Then the pandemic hit.
Like many people, I was forced to reassess everything. I realized I could manage all my properties remotely from my sailboat. And that was the moment it all clicked.
I could live anywhere. So I did.
In 2021, I bought a one-way ticket to Mexico. No plan. Just trust. I began crewing on boats through the Sea of Cortez, Chiapas, and up to Puerto Vallarta. I now live aboard my own boat full-time in Isla Mujeres. I ride my scooter through town. I rollerblade by the sea. I still manage properties and work with travelers, but now I do it on my terms.
This isn’t about running away. It’s about returning to something real.
In my time at sea and on this path, I’ve met people from every walk of life—wealthy, spiritual, lost, found. And I’ve learned that being rich has nothing to do with money. Happiness has nothing to do with stuff. It has everything to do with connection, presence, and living a life that reflects your heart’s atlas, not someone else’s map.
So if you’re feeling stuck, if something inside you is whispering for more, listen.
It doesn’t have to be a boat or a one-way ticket. It starts with one honest question.
What do I want to feel more of in my life, and what am I willing to let go of to get there?
You don’t need to be fearless. You just need to be willing.
I’m still figuring it out. I still doubt myself. But every single day I wake up, breathe ocean air, and remember that this life—this messy, magical, non-traditional life—is mine.
And if you're reading this, it might be yours too.
Writing the map as I go,
Your girl, Chanty
“Your heart already knows the way. All that’s left is to listen.”
