Itchy feet

Saturday morning. Thinking about the past week and I'm finally starting the feel settled again. Isn't it strange for someone who loves travel so much, to be so happy being in familiar surroundings? Nothing new, nothing different, nothing exciting, no hussle, no bustle. Nothing of the sort. But being fine with it. I would usually never have to think twice about sleeping in a different bed or being out of my comfort-zone.. That's what I usually would love best and it would get my adrenaline pumping and make me feel alive.

Unfamiliar surroundings and a different bed every night, isn't that what travel is all about? Shouldn't that be the best? At this moment in time? no way. It sounds like torture. Feeling so strongly about it, makes me feel like a failure, and like I'm going against everything I believed my life should revolve around. Even though I know that it's only temporary, it still feels bad admitting that I need security, food and a feeling of safety right now.

This strong feeling aside, I still manage to feel so envious at the thoughts of everyone jetsetting across this globe. It's so much more than getting on a plane and being able to say I've been here, there and everywhere. It's what happens once you set foot on the unfamiliar soil. Just like last weekend, the journey it's self wasn't great, but at the end of the day, it was all about what happened and how I felt once I was in Holland. I never imagined something so small could have such a huge impact. It makes me envious that most people can carry a weekend like that through without it turning into a drama. It remains exactly what it was meant to be.. a few days seeing the family. Something so small that doesn't suck the life out you.

2 years ago, I didn't think twice about jumping on a plane. It was normal and I maybe didn't even appreciate properly what I was doing and the once in a life-time experiences I was about to have. Seeing and doing things some people only dream of doing. To me, it was normal, it was what I had to do so I just got on with it. I worked me ass off to get there so in that sense I did appreciate it. But the fact that it takes guts and courage to fly to the other side of the world, alone, for a year, never occured to me. It was easy. Effortless. Normal.

Now that I can't do it yet, I can see how much it takes. The energy, the strength, the independence, the balls, the organisation, the confidence. A clear mind in a strong body and so much more. Everything that a person needs in order to travel and fully embrace every little thing along the way, was taken away from me. At one stage there was nothing left. Physically and mentally everything had gone, except for my strength and determination.

Now, seeing how much I had lost, and how much I've been gaining, and still need to gain, shows me how important this waiting game is. I need every bone in my body to be strong again and every muscle to be fed. It shows me that things don't always "go without saying". Nothing should be taken for granted and nothing is certain. And it especially shows me that nothing is normal.

I hear about so many people leaving and coming and going. I have to force myself to not dwell on the fact that I can't leave and to not be resentful. I have to sit tight and wait and wait and wait. I have to stop the frustrations and I have to let go of my fear of what lies ahead and I have to forget about time. As I continue to repeat myself over and over again, until it sticks, properly and until it feels right.. These things I can do on good days but I can't on bad days. But, then again, who says what's a good day and what's a bad day? I determine what's what. It's all in my hands and it's up to me to see it and to do what's best.