Thursday, 4 August 2016

The Heartbreak Travelling Brings


On my final night in Sri Lanka, myself and all of the other volunteers and nationals attended a 'goodbye' party, and the final song that was played was 'I've had the time of my life'. It's safe to say I was an emotional wreck.

This song came on, on my commute to work yesterday morning and I shed a tear. It's weird, because before this year I'd never consider myself as an emotional person. There's absolutely nothing wrong with showing emotion, but I've always been someone who has seen crying, showing panic and anxiety as a weakness - only in myself though; I am a big advocate of allowing yourself to actually feel your feelings, but of course I am world's biggest hypocrite.

The three months in Sri Lanka really have had a huge impact on who I am, and unfortunately, nothing can really prepare you for shock of returning home. 4 months on and the excitement of being home has most definitely worn off; I'm still not over the post travel blues that come with setting foot back onto home turf.

And what makes it harder, is that it's the most difficult thing to explain to someone - that you are heartbroken because you've returned home to your home comforts, to the people you love most and the prospects of doing something exciting with your independent life in the western world? It makes no sense to someone who has never been travelling.

We don't acknowledge that actually, coming home is harder than going because we a grieving what we once had. We've lost that home away from home, the excitement that everyday brings because you're making new discoveries, new friendships and exploring the unknown. The purpose that I had when I'd be going into hospitals, the beach I could walk across to watch the sun go down, the mountain I could climb just because.

Travelling breaks your heart because you're chucked into the deep end and you're left to tread water. You learn to float, and then swim, and once you're getting good at it, it's time to return to the shallow end. You'll never really know how good you could have been but you do wonder and you remember.

You wonder about the people you left behind, if they remember you? You try and relive your morning commute on a hot, rocky bus and the freezing cold shower you had every morning. The tastes of the food and the beauty the came from every. single. damn. thing.

But would I change it? No. Absolutely not. Because one day, I'll move on and and more than likely do it all again. I'd rather experience the world and heart break than compromise on a safe life, half lived.
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