The Things We Carry

A simple moment cleaning out a drawer led Becs Gold back to one of the most transformative seasons of her life—the ninety days before she sold nearly everything she owned and left to travel.

In this deeply personal episode of The Courage Code, Becs reflects on what she learned while letting go of possessions, routines, and the familiar comforts of everyday life. What began as preparation for a year of travel became something much bigger: an opportunity to look at life differently and question what was truly worth carrying forward.

This isn't an episode about minimalism or travel. It's a conversation about the things we hold onto long after they've stopped serving us, the dreams we quietly dismiss, and the moments when curiosity becomes impossible to ignore.

Through stories and reflection, Becs explores what happens when we stop automatically choosing the familiar and begin paying attention to the things that genuinely excite us. Sometimes the biggest changes in life don't begin with a dramatic event. Sometimes they begin with a question that won't leave us alone.

If you've ever felt a pull toward something more—more adventure, more freedom, more possibility—this episode will leave you thinking about what you're carrying, what you're holding onto, and what might be waiting if you're willing to make room for something new.

Listen now and discover why fear and excitement often arrive together—and why that might be exactly where your next chapter begins.

Transcript

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Welcome back to the Courage Code. I'm Bex Gold. The other day I found myself thinking about the months before I left to travel. It wasn't because I saw a photo or because someone asked me about it. It was something much smaller than that. I was cleaning out a drawer and came across something that I hadn't looked at in years. It wasn't valuable. It wasn't sentimental. In fact, if you ask me why I kept it, I couldn't even tell you. I had no good answer for that. What struck me wasn't the object itself. It was realizing how easy it is to carry things long after they've stopped serving a purpose. And these aren't just real things, these are in your head too. The thought stayed with me for the rest of the day. When I decided to leave and travel, everything happened really quickly. People sometimes assumed there was a long period of debating. Is this good? Is this bad? What's it going to take? Blah blah blah. There wasn't. Once I decided I was going, I was going. That was it, like in a moment. I started acting like someone who was leaving. I started selling things immediately. I started giving things away. I started looking at my home differently. I remember opening closets and cabinets and finding things I had completely forgotten about. There were items that had survived multiple moves. Boxes that somehow followed me from one chapter of life into the next without me even questioning why. You just keep moving it. They were still there. One afternoon, I found a box tucked away in a corner and sat down on the floor to go through it. Half of it was inside. Just half of what was inside of it made me laugh because I generally couldn't remember the last time I'd seen any of it. Why? Why are you keeping this stuff? Why do we keep this stuff? Apparently, at some point, I had decided every item in the box was important enough to save. And apparently it wasn't. Years later, I couldn't even remember owning most of it. I think that's part of being human. We collect stuff, we collect possessions, we collect stories, we collect beliefs and opinions about who we are and what we're capable of doing. Then one day we take a look around and realize we're carrying things that haven't belonged to us for a very long time. What I remember most about those 90 days wasn't planning. It wasn't booking flights or researching places, which I actually didn't do that much of. I just kind of found the first place I was going and figured the rest out later, once I was gone. What I remember was how differently I started looking at everything around me. The chair in the corner wasn't just a chair anymore. The bookshelf wasn't a bookshelf. Everything became part of a question I hadn't asked myself before. Is this coming with me? Well, the answer is no, you can't take that around with you traveling. The funny thing is, that question started showing up in other places too. I wasn't just looking at my belongings differently, I was looking at habits differently, I was looking at routines differently. I was paying attention to things I had stopped even noticing because they had become normal. There's something interesting that happens when you know a chapter of your life is ending. You start seeing it more clearly. Things that felt permanent suddenly look temporary. Things that seemed important don't always feel so important anymore. I remember standing in the house after another day of selling things and noticing how empty the rooms had become. It wasn't sad. It wasn't even emotional. It was just different. It felt bigger. The house felt lighter. It was like my home could breathe. I don't know why that stuck with me, but it did. Maybe because I realized how easy it is to fill every available space in our lives with stuff we don't need. We fill our schedules, we fill our homes, we fill our minds, we get used to the weight of carrying everything. And after a while we stop noticing how heavy it all is. Then something changes. Maybe it's a dream you can't stop thinking about. Maybe it's a conversation. Maybe it's an opportunity. Maybe it's a moment when you suddenly realize that you have been living the same day over and over like groundhog day, and you're calling it a year. Whatever it is, it wakes you up. Not in a dramatic way, just enough that you start paying attention again. That's what happened to me. I became curious. Not about travel, although I was certainly excited about that for sure. I became curious about white life what life would look like if I stopped automatically choosing the familiar. I think about that now because I meet so many people who have something pulling at them. Maybe you. Sometimes it's a business they want to start sometimes it's a place they want to visit. Sometimes it's a relationship they know they need to leave, or one they know that they need to pursue. That's more fun for sure. What stands out to me isn't the dream itself, it's how often people dismiss it. Almost if wanting something isn't a good enough reason to move towards it. I have really never understood that. Some of the best decisions I've made in my life started with curiosity. They started with a feeling that there was something worth exploring. They started with a question I couldn't stop asking myself or something I just felt in my gut. I didn't know exactly what that year of travel was going to look like. If someone had shown me everything that would happen before I left, I probably wouldn't have believed them anyway. And I would have left faster. Life has a way of surprising us like that. What I didn't know was that every time I imagined not going, I felt disappointed. That feeling never went away. Thank goodness. No matter how practical I tried to be, or how many reasons I came up with to stay where I was, the excitement was still there. There was a passion in me waiting for the next morning. Eventually, I stopped treating that excitement like something that needed to be justified. I simply listened to it. 90 days after making that decision, I was gone, babe. Just on a plane out of here. Looking back, I don't spend much time thinking about whether it was the right decision because it was the best decision, one of the better decisions in my life. Maybe not the best, but top. Life isn't a math, life isn't a math equation where you get to compare every possible outcome and determine which one would have had to be best for you. What I know is that year gave me experiences I never would have had if I had stayed home wondering about them. It gave me stories, it gave me friendships, and it gave me a lesson that I'll never forget. Take the leap, babe. It gave me confidence that only comes from navigating unfamiliar places and discovering you're more capable than you thought. Most of all, it reminded me that fear and excitement often show up together. The presence of one doesn't cancel out the other. Sometimes the most interesting things in life arrive carrying both. I'm Bex Gold, and this is the Courage Code. Until next time, break fear, live true, and be absolutely limitless.