From Debt to Digital Nomad: How 30 Years of Healing My Wounds Gave Me Wings to Freedom
From cashing my last保单 for a gambler to becoming a free digital nomad: my 30-year true story of healing. I combine raw experience with neuroscience to guide you from scarcity to lasting abundance.
Before you get to know the version of me who can calmly share about manifestation, know that my life used to be a long, unvarnished reality show of “scarcity.”
My ex-husband was addicted to gambling. My family paid off his debts time and again, and I was deceived by him over and over. I will always remember the moment—financially strapped myself—when I wavered under his desperate pleas. He claimed loan sharks had him trapped in an endless cycle, saying, “If I just pay off this one, I can start saving slowly.” I have to say, gamblers are the best actors; he always found a way to make me feel that not helping him was my fault. By then, I had no money left. Finally, I had to cash out an insurance policy with an 8% annual yield—the only future I had saved for myself and my child, like a tiny seed. I withdrew it all. It was only much later that I understood this was a clear imprint of my “rescuer personality.” I naively believed that clearing this high-interest debt would allow him to “start fresh.”
The day the money left my hands, I put the insurance documents in the deepest drawer. The sound of the drawer closing was soft, yet it felt like the lid closing on a tiny coffin.
Yes, he started fresh—fresh at gambling. Long after, I was told that on the very day I helped him repay the debt, he immediately borrowed again. The whole thing was just a ploy to get money out of me.
When I unexpectedly became pregnant, I hadn’t intended to marry, but I couldn’t say “no” to his family’s expectations (a symptom of my “inability to refuse” character). He took my ID card and registered the marriage. Soon, I understood: I could stay in this endless rescue drama, but my daughter could not. So, when my child was just over a year old, I became a single mother, raising her alone.
During those long years, I deeply experienced the anxiety of scrambling to make ends meet and tasted the loneliness of facing every problem alone in the dead of night. That loneliness had a sound—the hum of the refrigerator, a car occasionally passing outside, and the hollow echo in my heart constantly asking, “What now?” with no answer.
My body also faithfully mirrored my inner scarcity. From childhood onward, I underwent more than twenty surgeries. Those cold operating tables and countless pain-ridden nights made me crave the gift of “health” with an almost stubborn longing. Each time I was wheeled into the OR, watching the ceiling lights pass one by one, I would silently say to my body, “We’re going to get through this one too, okay?”
In relationships, I was a devoted believer in “lack.” I had many relationships but often chose poorly. I gave desperately and tried hard to please, attempting to exchange the performance of a “perfect girlfriend” for a scrap of validation. I remember keeping my hair long for years because he once said he liked it, enduring the annoyance; I’d run blocks to buy something he casually mentioned craving. I thought this was proof of love, but failed to see that all I proved was, “Look how hard I’m trying to make you like me.” What I sought was never love itself, but a temporary filling of the void, a way to not feel alone. I even experienced deep alienation and pain from not being understood by my family, standing once more on the edge of depression.
The me back then, from any angle, was the very definition of a “person of lack.”
However, “There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in.” Precisely because I lived through all this, I embarked on a path of inward exploration and healing. I began to learn how to heal my money wounds, my sense of unworthiness, and the recurring patterns in my relationships, right at their root.
Now, in my fifties, I can finally say with ease: I live in a state of “abundance” unlike ever before.
I am no longer trapped by money and live freely as a digital nomad. When I sit in some corner of the world working on my laptop, the memory of that 8% policy is still there, but it’s no longer a wound. It has become a gentle tattoo, reminding me where my freedom came from. My body bears the marks of history, but my heart is filled with peaceful energy. I no longer seek love from the outside but have learned to give myself the deepest nourishment from within. Now, I brew the tea I truly want to drink, not what someone else likes. It’s a small thing, but important.
Most importantly, I’ve finally found a vocation that brings my heart immense satisfaction: “Altruism.” I want to share the wisdom and courage refined from the ore of my life with anyone who might be experiencing similar confusion. And this satisfaction from “giving” actually has a scientific basis.
Psychology research finds that when we sincerely help others, the brain releases oxytocin and serotonin. These “helper hormones” bring a deep sense of satisfaction and connection, perhaps explaining why giving itself is the best form of healing.
For me, this satisfaction goes a layer deeper. Because I walked too long a path being chased by money, health, and relationship issues, I know better than anyone that when a person’s basic survival is shaky, there’s no extra mental space for quiet reflection or gentle change. So, when I could finally say, “I’m no longer trapped by money,” my first thought wasn’t to enjoy it, but: “Great, now I can focus.”
I no longer have to think about helping people while being anxious about next month’s bills. I can—purely because a story moved me, or because a question reminded me of my past self—sit down and respond carefully, wholeheartedly. This “purity” is a hard-earned luxury for me, and the original intention I want to protect.
I spent thirty years groping for a way out in the dark. Now, how I wish I could light a few small lanterns on this path for those who come after, so your walk might be a little easier, without having to use your own life to trial-and-error the same mistakes.
This isn’t a comparison, but a cherishing that only those who have walked the path can understand. If you are also experiencing lack, anxiety, or confusion right now, I want to tell you:
You are not alone. You deserve a better life. Change is possible.
I’ve proven this path exists with my life. And I believe you, reading this now, can do the same.
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