I love travelling. The past 15 years, I’ve taken trips ranging from 3 days to 3 weeks. I’ve seen a long list of cities in Europe and the US, and been to some parts of Asia. I am extremely fortunate to be able to do this — and don’t want to forget that.
But coming home, I have always been hit with various levels of feeling really down and quite lost. Re-evaluating everything, wondering what I am doing with my life. Happy to return to my bed and my shower — but miserable over coming back to everyday life. There was the time I quit my job shortly after a solo trip to Malaysia. But mostly I’d just daydream and mope until it wore off.
I have always thought it was perpetual wanderlust, that I was doomed to feeling blue coming home after an adventure. I braced myself for this last week, but these feelings never appeared. The trip was fabulous, and I really enjoyed having a proper holiday — but it also felt perfectly okay to come back home this time. Perhaps I’m simply more happy with my everyday life now. Still looking forward to my next trip, but present and connected here at home in the meantime. Basically doing what I’m supposed to be doing. 👌