"Traveling is a beautiful and highly approved-of way of distracting from myself, but it's never going to solve the problems I think it should."
There are places in the world that I've been to that, when I think of them, I feel a deep sense of yearning for. Places that I allowed myself to relax into myself so completely, in a way I don't allow myself at home, that I crave going back just so I can experience myself that way again.
That's both the allure of, and trouble with traveling, if you ask me. It's so easy to think that going someplace else will make me feel better, make me more cultured, more fulfilled, more at peace, etc. But it's not really true. Maybe it seems like that for a while, but have you ever gone on a trip and upon return felt a post-trip depression? Depression that then gets associated with coming home and being home. And in comparison to the high of being away in a foreign place that faraway place is suddenly seen through extra rose-coloured glasses. And then the highly glorified "travel bug" inserts itself under the skin and makes itself at home. Or, the opposite: having so much excitement for a trip that then fails to deliver on the expectations placed upon it?
The phrase, "Wherever you go, there you are"comes to my mind. I can travel all over the world, move to different countries, get a new home, new partner, new life, everything. But I am still me. I am the common denominator, packing all my baggage, all my beliefs, with me everywhere I go. Traveling is a beautiful and highly approved-of way of distracting from myself, but it's never going to solve the problems I think it should. Which is why it's so easy to look at somebody else who is going on "grand adventures", traveling the world, posting amazing photos with eloquent captures and think that they have a perfect life and are happier than I am. That is the illusion I make up.
I'm the first to admit that I've looked to travel as a means of improving my current state of mind and affairs! One particular trip I took that comes to mind is when I was 19 I was in a highly tumultuous time of my life and took a nanny job in Italy one summer. I absolutely LOADED the opportunity with expectation. I imagined that I would be living with an incredible family, become an important person in these little kids' lives, get to travel Italy and experience the rich culture of wine and food and basically trade my perceived lame existence in Red Deer for a brand new European life. Well, the reality of the trip was the exact opposite. I can't blame the family for everything here, but we just did not jive. I saw them as being spoiled and rich and I didn't understand what they even needed me for. I felt like a glorified servant, carrying heavy Prada beach bags every day down to the sea, being told to "entertain" the kids (who had zero interest in doing anything active), and they also were probably the only family in the entire country who didn't drink any wine. Like, ever.The list of problems I had go on and on. The boy threw fits all the time and he threw things at me, spit at me once (for which he was rewarded with an ice cream and a "that's just what little boys do" -he was 9), he ran away from me once when we were biking around the town. I spent an hour biking around looking for him until I finally gave up and returned to our house to be met with a furious mother who blamed me for "leaving him alone" *eye roll*. I spent hours on Skype, crying my eyes out to my parents who probably felt horrible that they couldn't do anything for me.
Long story short, the romantic bubble idea of being a loved and loving nanny for an Italian family and living in Europe for an indefinite amount of time was burst and there I was, alone with myself and feeling just as lost as I felt at home in Red Deer. I reverted to eating my feelings and feeling horribly guilty. I built up huge resentments towards my employer, and I spent my evenings in my room watching movies. Not so fun. I saw going to Italy as my saviour: it was going to save me from myself and give me direction and clarity and happiness. And because nothing can give me happiness but myself, it failed.
I don't know if my pain threshold got met or what made me take a stand, but after a couple weeks I gathered the courage to let my employer know that if something didn't change then I was going to have to go home early (which was a big deal for me). And from that point on I started to take a bit better care of myself amongst the chaos. I went running every single morning, I wrote in my journal, I requested some healthy foods be bought at our next grocery shop. And I befriended some friends of the family I was staying with and felt a little more supported and less alone. The family didn't change or accommodate me, in fact my rapport with the mother actually got progressively worse, but I changed. And this leads me to the point of the story. A different country or city has no power inherently. It can be a catalyst for change, but on it's own it's no different than where I am right now. I could have taken that trip as an utter failure and hated Italy forever and blamed everyone but myself for the miserable time I had. But there was a lot of learning in it for me, if I was open to it. And I'm thankful that I was because I learned that I am WAY tougher than I thought. I learned to stand up for myself more than I ever had. I learned how to overcome adversity and how to look after myself in tough circumstances. On the outside, it looked like I had everything. I was in Italy, living with a wealthy Italian family in a summer home by the sea. But I brought all my inner turmoil with me and that was for me to look at and learn from.
To bring it back around to where I started with my big travel rant...I don't mean to take away the magical allure of traveling. I love to travel, I have places that are my favourite places I've ever been that I hold very dearly to my heart and, still sometimes, believe that if I lived there I would be happier. When I catch myself longing to be in the Austrian Alps or the Dolomites of Northern Italy, it helps me to ask myself, "what do I let myself be when I'm there that I don't allow myself right now?" Usually the answer is that I feel free when I'm in those places. I feel less burdened by "things to do". And the fact is that I can free myself from those perceived burdens anytime I want. I don't need to go to Europe to do that. And when I release myself from those perceived burdens and imaginary chains at home, when I do get the chance to travel and be in those places, I can love them truly for what they are. The expectations are removed and I can enjoy the shit out of them, without the emotional hangover upon return ;)