We retired early from our jobs in oil and gas to travel. Starting over again in new places has been terrifying.
She found the idea of starting over again in new places terrifying.
Learning how to manage fear made it doable.
Last year, at 53, my husband and I quit our jobs in oil and gas and retired early to travel the world. Many friends assumed we were fearless — that anyone who leaves behind home, routines, and everything familiar must be chasing adventure
The truth? I'm not fearless. I'm a total scaredy-cat.
I didn't grow up traveling. We didn't hop on planes or dream about faraway places. Our family vacations were road trips to Ohio to visit relatives — reliable, predictable, safe. Most of my family still doesn't have a passport.
If you'd asked me in my 20s whether I'd ever sell everything and move from country to country, I would've shaken my head no, probably while breaking out in a cold sweat. It sounded terrifying.
Turns out, it is terrifying sometimes. And I do it anyway.
Managing retirement risk
For years, I built my life around managing risk. Raising kids, climbing the corporate ladder, and running my own consulting business all required careful planning and staying one step ahead.
But nothing prepared me for the emotional risk of walking away from that life.
The moment my husband, Nigel, and I got serious about early retirement, the what-ifs flooded in: What if we ran out of money? What if something happened to our kids or grandkids while we're gone? What if we hated it?
I've spent my life tuned in to everyone else: clients, kids, even my husband. Somewhere along the way, my empathy turned into a constant state of alert. I was always scanning for what might go wrong.
The idea of giving up control, dropping into unfamiliar places, and starting over again felt like a nightmare wrapped in an Instagram filter.
Learning that I didn't have to be fearless and just needed a plan for the fear changed everything.
Putting the tool to work
I discovered fear-setting in 2022, and it's the single most useful tool I've carried into this chapter of life. Instead of setting goals, you define the nightmare. Then you ask three questions:
How could I prevent it?
What would I do if it happened?
What's the cost of doing nothing?
That last one stopped me cold: What would it cost us to stay stuck, too scared to try?
It turns out I'd been using versions of fear-setting long before I even knew what to call them. I used them to calm my son after watching Hurricane Katrina coverage, walking him through every worst-case scenario. Later, I relied on them to manage my own spirals over work deadlines, breaking fear into manageable pieces.
Fear-setting works at any age — and for almost anything.
It's simpler than it sounds. You don't need a course or a coach. You just need a pen, a few quiet minutes, and the willingness to name what's scaring you out loud.
I start by writing the absolute worst-case scenario at the top of the page, even if it feels dramatic. Then, I answer the three questions honestly. I learned that getting honest about the worst case doesn't make it more likely, it makes it less terrifying.
Even now, after a year of traveling, every time we step off a plane into a new place, I still get anxious: Will I find my way back? Will I belong here?
It's rarely the big things. It's the tiny moments of unfamiliarity. It's the ones no amount of planning or money can solve. Where's the grocery store? Did we pick the wrong Airbnb? Will I meet anyone here, or will I feel completely alone?
Never feeling ready
I'm not fearless. I'm not naturally adventurous. I'm just someone who finally got tired of letting fear drive every decision.
Fear-setting gave me a way to name the scary stuff, stare it down, and ask: Is this really going to stop me?
If there's one thing I wish people understood, it's this: You're not supposed to feel ready. You don't need to wait until the fear goes away.
You just need to know that fear is part of the deal — and that you're capable of walking through it.
It has been through managing fear — instead of waiting for it to disappear — that I've changed everything.
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Travel + Leisure
4 hours ago
- Travel + Leisure
I Retired Early and Now Travel the World Staying in Airbnbs
For Travel + Leisure's column Traveling As, we're talking to travelers about what it's like to explore the world through their unique perspectives. Burnt out from corporate America, Kelly Benthall got her finances in order and gave up her Texas lifestyle to retire at 53 and live around the world in Airbnbs with her husband, Nigel. Here's her story… I was living in Texas and working in oil and gas. As time went on, and the kids left, my job became extraordinarily stressful—to the point that I had to be wheeled out on a gurney through the lobby, hooked up to an EKG. After all those years of feeling like I needed to overachieve, my doctor said my job was trying to kill me. Once I realized that, my husband, Nigel, and I got a financial advisor who gave us some sound projections and advice. I always thought I would retire at 65 and play golf. Nigel didn't have a retirement plan. He was going to work forever, and it took me a couple of years to get him to turn the corner. But at 53 years old, I decided to retire. Once the job went away, all my stress dissipated and my levels returned to normal. I wasn't raised traveling. Our family would take our modified van from Texas to Ohio every year to see my grandmother—that was our big trip. I didn't even have a passport until I got married the first time in my 20s, and we just went to Mexico. Eventually, at work, I said yes to every single trip that came up because I was interested in seeing the world. I love foreign languages and talking to people from different countries. One time, one of my contractors was pregnant and couldn't go to Kalimantan, Indonesia. I knew nothing about what she was doing, but I went anyway. I find travel quieter and calmer [than being at home]. I'm attuned to every little thing because it's new and different, so I relax and take it in. I am not a playground tourist—I don't go to all the major tour sites. I might walk by and walk in, but I like just hanging out at a cafe and chatting with people. While I have lots of friends and family in Houston, it's not ultimately where I wanted to be, sof when Nigel and I both retired, we got the idea to travel the world, living for a month at a time in Airbnbs. Kelly and her husband while in Provence, France. We started with a trial run in 2023, spending a month in Mexico to make sure we could actually live with just each other. At the time, we had been married for about seven years. We stayed in the middle of the jungle in Tulum in a very intimate space—the door between the bedroom and kitchen was glass, so there was no privacy at all. But we did Pilates on the roof together every morning and cooked dinners. We bought a Christmas tree and decorated it. And we did a great job—I was very proud of us. So we came back and started planning our global travels. I watched all the YouTube videos I could find and listened to people's advice. Initially, I went to some local real estate agencies, but I like places that have local flair. What I found is that Airbnb, more than other platforms, is good with that because we can connect with local hosts. Plus, we can search easily for things that are important to us, like outdoor space. We've had some nice places with rooftop pools that weren't expensive. Being able to see all the ratings and not having to sign a lease makes it easy. It's also been affordable. We're now staying in this place in Aix-en-Provence, where we've been for eight weeks, and got a 70 percent discount for a long stay. So we could stay for a week somewhere, or we could stay for six weeks for the same price. I thought, how did no one ever tell me about this? That really is the thing that's made this all possible, and I'm grateful for it. Kelly and her husband while lounging in the pool at their Airbnb. We started in Dubrovnik, and took Nigel's 87-year-old mom with us. It was interesting because the language is so different. We did a walking tour with someone who spoke English so we could get the lay of the land. The city was amazing, like a movie set. We learned to walk up and down its hills. We stayed in a neighborhood that had these local bodega-type shops. The older guys would play buće (bocce) in the evenings, and we would go out and sit with them. We asked our Airbnb host what we could do for the community even though we don't speak the language, and ended up helping harvest grapes at this small winery. They can't hire too many people because of tax issues, so they rely on volunteers. It was hot and difficult work, but a fun way to learn about the culture. Since then, we've also picked up trash on beaches in Mauritius. When you're a tourist, you might not think about it, but when you're visiting for longer, it's different. That's one of the things that helps us connect with the locals. They know we're not just using and leaving. We hope to get more involved with our community work. We would eventually like to work with kids, but we'll have to stay longer to earn that trust and get the language down. When we get to a new place, we'll usually start by finding a local market. We'll explore and find the things locals do. In Seville, for example, we were across the street from a community center, so we'd go and see all the classes people were taking. It was easy to get involved with the neighborhood because they would all gather outside in the evening, so we joined them. That's usually how we acclimate ourselves. We also like to walk around and get lost. Since we're in places for so long, we have time to ask around. A few times a week, we'll do day trips. The other day, we took the train to Avignon and went wine tasting in Châteauneuf-du-Pape. Kelly and her husband while traveling together. In Mauritius, we got really close with our Airbnb host. They lived across the street and invited us over to use their property. We spent New Year's Eve with them. It was just lovely. We stayed in Lecce for a month and would drive to the different coasts. We spent a few days south of there, and I met a woman who took my photograph from behind while I was watching a sunset and drinking a glass of wine. She invited us to a dinner party the next night, so we extended our stay. No one spoke English, except for one kid. We sat in the middle of the table with the hosts, and everyone sat as far away as possible because they knew we didn't speak the same language. But by the end, we were able to communicate using Google Translate and through the child. That was memorable, and I still keep in touch with them. I find comfort in spreadsheets, so we use one to plan our travels. It's color-coded following the sun by region. Then, I have the cost of living compared to the U.S. We also don't want to spend a ton of money on flights, so we pick a general area. Right now, we're doing Europe, and we do a bit of the Schengen shuffle if we need to because we can't stay too long. Nigel's family is in England, so it's been our jumping-off point. We have six kids, and one daughter, two grandkids, and Nigel's mom are all there. Our other kids are in California, Utah, and Texas, so we do a U.S. round for about three months. We stay in each place for at least a month to get the discount. We wanted to spend some more time in Provence because neither of us had been, so we've been in the region for three months now. Next, we're going to go back to England since I've never seen my husband's home country. Then, we're going on a road trip and will spend a month in Ireland. Airbnbs there are about $65 a night, pretty cheap. You can't even get some hostels for that amount. We could stay in bed-and-breakfasts on this road trip, but I don't want to be put together and mingle all the time. I need my own space and a kitchen. We cook all the time with ingredients from the local markets. It saves us money, and it gives us a lot of privacy, which we don't get in hotels. In Mauritius, we did go to a hotel for a nice meal on Christmas Eve, and I was like, 'Oh, I forgot how nice hotels are because everyone is serving you rather than serving yourself.' But I don't think I could live in a hotel. After that, we'll go back to the spreadsheet and feel it out. I know we want to go to Asia, then New Zealand. We also want to go to Bali and South America. We've got all of these big-picture plans. Panoramic jungle views from an Airbnb rooftop. There are definitely challenges. I miss our friends and family, and being able to drop in on people. We always book a place with an extra room so we can have people visit. But it can also be a bit isolating if we don't make an effort. It's not just being in another country. Being retired is weird at this age. At first, I felt a little guilty doing nothing. Now, I realize it's OK to be bored. I enjoy it. I've gotten a lot more creative in this chapter, a lot more introspective. Nigel always wants to go and do things, and I have to remind him, we're here for a long time. You don't need to see everything right away. We're not here as tourists. We're here as kind of locals, while also doing a bit of touring. People will ask where we're from, and that's a complicated answer. They also ask what we do—not so much overseas as they do in the U.S. We're fortunate to have this lifestyle, but it's difficult to explain to people in a way that doesn't sound braggadocious. I tell people we're looking for places where we belong in the world and are exploring and looking for adventure. My background is in behavioral psychology, so I like that I get to walk in the shoes of other people and understand their perspectives. It's been eye-opening. In Texas, we say hello to everyone. In places like France, people are super-friendly, but they'll say bonjour and that's it. They don't automatically become friends with you. It depends on where we are in the world. Once we spend a month in a place, it feels like home. We always feel like we should spend more time there because just when we're getting to the point where we know where everything is, it's time to go. We have our local wine bar and fishmonger, and it's time to leave again. We can't stay during the high season because it's expensive and I don't like crowds. I've found observing and absorbing cultures to be very unifying. The world is giant, but also so small, and traveling really teaches us respect. I have so many friends and family members who just don't understand what we're doing. But if everyone would just go and explore, it would break down these perceived barriers we all have. You realize people have stereotypes about you that may not be true. I can't force my interests on other people, but I do feel strongly about it and think it's something everyone should do.
Business Insider
3 days ago
- Business Insider
We retired early to see the world — but fast travel made life feel stressful again
Kelly Benthall, 54, and her husband retired early and have now been slow traveling for a year. This summer, they spent five fast-paced weeks moving through seven stops across the UK and Ireland. The experience left her exhausted — and reminded the couple why they'd chosen a slower, more intentional life. Plain and simple — hold the tomatoes — fast travel is exhausting. My husband Nigel and I retired early last year to slow travel the world. We've made it a habit to stay in one place for a month. It feels long enough to unpack, exhale, and feel like we live there. But this summer, we broke our own rules. We planned a five-week sprint through the UK and Ireland — seven stops in quick succession, most just five days long. We started in Dorset with a brief, emotionally heavy family visit, then made our way through Cornwall, the Cotswolds, the Lake District, Edinburgh, North Wales, and finally ended with a three-day finale in Dublin. It was part memory lane, part reunion tour, and a whole lot of intentional sightseeing. Some stops held memories for Nigel, others were entirely new. It was a chance for both of us to explore his home country with fresh eyes. We packed in everything from castles and sea cliffs to wild ponies, old friends, long walks, and short pub chats. It felt like an affair, not with a person, but with a different kind of travel. A thrilling, nostalgic, completely unsustainable fling with speed. By the numbers: 5 weeks 7 stops 4 home-cooked reunions 2,000+ miles driven in a tiny car on even tinier roads 178 mapped stops Countless pints and pies It was a whirlwind of firsts — and then the crash. Burning through cash and energy By the end of the trip, my legs were stronger than ever, thanks to all the walking and staircases — many of which felt too narrow for a modern human with luggage. But the rest of me shut down. After Dublin, when we finally arrived at our more long-term monthlong Airbnb in Killaloe, Ireland, I slept for a full day. Even after that, I felt drained. Four days in, my mind was still on high alert — scanning for surprises, wrong turns, or a crowd around the corner. That internal alarm system — so helpful while navigating new terrain — didn't know how to switch off. We had also spent more money than usual. Without monthlong Airbnb discounts or home-cooked meals, the costs added up. We indulged in well-regarded restaurants nearly every day, and we felt it in both our budget and our waistlines. There were a couple of late nights too — 2 a.m. pub closings and dance floors I used to keep up with, but that now leave us wrecked the next day. That's not our rhythm anymore. During the trip, we pushed hard to do each region justice — hiking to hidden waterfalls, exploring caves, storm-watching over valleys, and wandering historic streets. And then it hit me, we were those tourists. Respectful, yes. Grateful, always. But always on the move, like playground visitors: admiring the beauty, but never staying long enough to earn trust. It was the opposite of what slow travel makes possible — the chance to return to the same café twice, to learn names, to show up not just as a guest but as a quiet part of the scenery. That tension wore on me. We were seeing everything, but belonging nowhere. Retired, but still racing The pace wasn't just a physical strain, but mental as well. Fast travel began to mimic the stress patterns of the life we left behind. Before we retired, I spent decades in a high-pressure career, always scanning, solving, planning the next thing. It took me a lot of work to untangle myself from that rhythm. Yet here I was again, dreaming of logistics, overloading my senses, and feeling that familiar hum of burnout. I'd also taken up writing in retirement, but somewhere between documenting it all and trying to feel it, I lost the thread. We had no buffer. No pause. Just momentum. The return to slow And yet, the moments still shone. We found awe on many occasions: sea shanties in a Cornish pub that left us teary, storm clouds that rolled over the lakes like theater curtains, and yes — sharing a pint while standing in line for a castle. We watched sheep graze near medieval stone circles. We wandered through St. Giles as sunlight streamed through stained glass. Nigel even got pulled onstage to dance in Dublin — whiskey in hand, the crowd cheering. We were wrecked. But we were alive. Now we're in a quiet town in Ireland, finally staying put for a full month. One Airbnb. One grocery shop. No checkouts to plan. We didn't retire early to rush life, we did it to be present. Fast travel showed us what we could cram in. Slow travel reminds us why we left the rush behind.
Associated Press
4 days ago
- Associated Press
$15K Grant from FHLB Dallas and Gulf Coast Bank & Trust Will Help New Orleans Resident Weather Future Storms
NEW ORLEANS--(BUSINESS WIRE)--Aug 13, 2025-- A longtime New Orleans, Louisiana, resident is rebuilding nearly two decades after Hurricane Katrina damaged her home, thanks in part to a $15,000 Disaster Rebuilding Assistance (DRA) grant from the Federal Home Loan Bank of Dallas (FHLB Dallas). The DRA grant was awarded through FHLB Dallas member Gulf Coast Bank & Trust to provide a new storm-resistant roof for Gail Micken. This press release features multimedia. View the full release here: A $15,000 Disaster Rebuilding Assistance grant from FHLB Dallas and Gulf Coast Bank & Trust helped New Orleans, Louisiana, resident Gail Micken repair her storm-battered roof and reclaim her peace of mind. Ms. Micken, a retiree, moved into her home in April 2005. Just a few months later, Hurricane Katrina swept through Louisiana, leaving widespread destruction in its wake. Fortunately, her home, situated on higher ground, was spared from severe flooding. However, the roof sustained significant damage that worsened with time. 'After Katrina and all the smaller storms since, my roof just kept getting worse, and it's a big house, so I had to fix it in pieces,' Ms. Micken said. 'With prices going up and insurance getting harder to afford, this grant was a blessing. It gave me the help I needed to make my home safe again. This program is making a difference for people like me on a fixed income.' Administered through FHLB Dallas member institutions, DRA provides grants for the repair, rehabilitation and reconstruction of owner-occupied housing affected by disaster events in federally declared disaster areas within FHLB Dallas's five-state District of Arkansas, Louisiana, Mississippi, New Mexico and Texas. Ms. Micken's new roof meets FORTIFIED standards by the Insurance Institute for Business & Home Safety (IBHS), designed to withstand hurricanes, high winds, hail and severe thunderstorms. 'We're proud to play a role in helping lifelong New Orleans residents like Ms. Micken repair their homes after a natural disaster,' said Brittainy Fields, CRA officer at Gulf Coast Bank & Trust. 'Through these grants, we're not only preserving housing but also strengthening safety and storm preparedness for the future.' Since 2024, Gulf Coast Bank & Trust has awarded $347,000 in FHLB Dallas DRA grants. 'A FORTIFIED roof is a proactive investment in the quality and longevity of our housing stock,' said Greg Hettrick, senior vice president and Director of Community Investment at FHLB Dallas. 'By helping homeowners improve and maintain their properties, we're supporting community stability and giving residents the security and comfort they deserve.' For 2025, FHLB Dallas set aside $4 million for the DRA program. Learn more about DRA. About Gulf Coast Bank & Trust Gulf Coast Bank & Trust Company was founded in 1883, offering several personal and business banking services to the communities in Baton Rouge, New Orleans, surrounding the Southeast Louisiana areas and Florida. Banking services include checking and savings accounts with online and mobile banking options as well as personal loans, home loans, business loans and trust and brokerage services. Its mission is to strengthen its relationship with customers by combining the values of old-fashioned community banking that focus on individualized customer service with innovative, competitive banking products and trust and brokerage services. About the Federal Home Loan Bank of Dallas The Federal Home Loan Bank of Dallas is one of 11 district banks in the FHLBank System created by Congress in 1932. FHLB Dallas, with total assets of $116.1 billion as of June 30, 2025, is a member-owned cooperative that supports housing and community development by providing competitively priced loans and other credit products to approximately 800 members and associated institutions in Arkansas, Louisiana, Mississippi, New Mexico and Texas. For more information, visit View source version on CONTACT: Corporate Communications Federal Home Loan Bank of Dallas (214) 441-8445 KEYWORD: UNITED STATES NORTH AMERICA TEXAS LOUISIANA INDUSTRY KEYWORD: PROFESSIONAL SERVICES PHILANTHROPY RESIDENTIAL BUILDING & REAL ESTATE OTHER PHILANTHROPY FINANCE CONSTRUCTION & PROPERTY BANKING SOURCE: Federal Home Loan Bank of Dallas Copyright Business Wire 2025. PUB: 08/13/2025 11:42 AM/DISC: 08/13/2025 11:41 AM
