A Sacred unravelling: Coddiwomple Diaries part 2: Letting go of security

“Security’s mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature” - Helen Keller

“We can’t find security by trying to hold on to the things we’re afraid of losing” - Pema Chodron

One of the greatest unknowns when we began this journey wasn’t where we would end up - but what it would feel like to no longer have a fixed place to call home.

Letting go of our possessions was one thing.

Letting go of our home - our physical shelter, our so-called security - was quite another. It brought up fears and discomfort, not just in us, but in the people around us.

Especially here, in an affluent town in one of the UK’S more well-off counties, the idea of giving up a rented home by choice can sound unthinkable. Radical. Even reckless.

But here’s the thing: for many, there is no longer a choice.

The housing system in this county is deeply broken. Rents are unaffordable, even for working people. Home ownership is out of reach for many, and social housing is vanishing. The financial strain touches even those who have “made it” onto the property ladder.

I was facing the reality that my work was no longer sustainable. A significant portion of my income was going straight to ever increasing rent - a rent that would never lead to ownership, and never truly offer security.

I’ve never been in a position to buy, having spent many years earlier as a single parent working in service-based roles. And at 44, is it really viable to commit to a mortgage that would tie me down for the rest of my life even if I could get one?

So, we chose to step outside the system. Not because we had a perfect alternative, but because the current way was no longer working.

There is no plan, no gap year adventure, no trust fund or financial cushion.

This is not a spiritual sabbatical; this is a spiritual survival.

We are not nomads chasing exotic horizons. We are seekers, carving a quieter, truer path away from systems that do not serve us.

Some people look at us and see backpackers.

But this is not a lifestyle trend. It is a liberation.

And yet, it hasn’t been without grief, and certainly not without fear.

Because when we gave up our home, we also gave up the illusion of permanence. Of control.

Of knowing where we will lay our heads next month. It brought up a profound vulnerability - and also a profound surrender.

Renting never gave us true security. A landlord can reclaim their property at any time and rents will continue to rise (unless we do anything about it). The future for renters in this country currently looks very bleak.

But in the process of letting go, we have found something unexpected: Community. Support.

Small and large acts of kindness from people we knew, and people we didn’t expect.

A reminder that connection and care are still alive and well- and that maybe, just maybe, we are more held than we thought.

Security, it turns out, was never in the bricks and mortar. It lives now in our trust, our faith, and the ground beneath our feet - even as it shifts.

Home, too has changed shape. It lives in the sacred space within us. In the people we love. In the quiet strength we are leaning into.

And while this path is uncertain, it is also deeply alive.

It is teaching us what no fixed home ever did.