If you’ve been following me on Facebook you’ll know that after spending five weeks travelling the East Coast of Australia with mum, we went our separate ways and I headed here to Bali for up to a month with plans to head to the Philippines for a month afterwards before returning home.
Except, for the last week or so, something hasn’t been sitting right with me. I’ve been telling everyone that I’m heading to the Philippines but I haven’t been excited about it. Truthfully I think I even began to dread the thought a little and you know why? Because I realised that I’m done with travelling. I’ve spent the last 7.5 weeks travelling and I’m tired of it.
I’ve been so grateful for the things I’ve seen and done but I just don’t want to do it anymore. I don’t want to keep pushing myself. I want Western comforts around me. To cook. To have a ‘normal’ life again. I need the routine; that is just who I am and I won’t apologise for knowing myself and listening to my gut instinct.
So instead of arriving home at the end of November, I am looking at flights from Bali back to the UK for next week.
But here’s something else, and one of the biggest reasons I knew I was done with travelling? I am excited to go home. Given the heartbreak I went through in Australia knowing my time in Bondi was coming to an end, I find it completely surprising but just as life is fluid, so is my mind and heart and they are allowed to change direction.
I made the decision whilst white water river rafting yesterday. A typhoon is currently hitting the Philippines hard and I had to question whether I was going there because I genuinely wanted to or because it felt ‘logical’ since I had made no effort to make plans. I was holding myself back because I realised that I didn’t want to go and once the realisation hit that I would prefer to go home, I felt a huge surge of relief.
However. Being that I try and be a logical person as much as my depression/anxiety allows, I wanted to get a couple of friends opinions. Was I being stupid to ditch ‘paradise’ for home when just a few weeks ago the thought of going home reduced me to breathless tears? But they both said the same; if my heart wasn’t in it and I felt I was ‘done’ with travelling then I was done and there was no shame in admitting that to myself and everyone else.
The beauty of having amazing friends like these is that they listened, not just to my thoughts but my justifications behind them. They listened openly and without immediate calls of ‘stop being so stupid’ or ‘don’t be so ungrateful’. They allowed me to be me in the most simple yet hardest way possible.
I feel excited to go home. I have a list of things I want to do. Eat. See. And because I’m happy at the thought of going home, I know it is the right decision for me at this point in my life. Who knows what will happen when I get home. Maybe I will hate being home within days. Maybe that depressive episode I fear will finally come for me. Or maybe everything will work out beautifully.
I don’t know.
But for once in my life I’m not terrified of the unknown.
So I’m going home.