What happens after travelling extensively? Three months later this is how things are

I’m almost scared to touch this subject here because I’m afraid that if some potential travellers are depending on bloggers opinions to take the big jump and leave behind the securities of an ordinary life, they surely expect us to tell them not to hesitate and do it and hell, I’ve been saying that myself since before I left, during my trip and once I ended it.

 But while I have written endless posts about taking that decision and just go (and I will always tell you so) I have not written that much about the post trip and how life looks like for me almost three months later since I returned and got back to normal (or trying to).

I feel an obligation to be honest and transmit how I feel and how normal life is treating me for showing her the middle finger and left her for more exciting experiences.

 

 I think that us, as bloggers, if we feel we have the right to make you  consider your own life and incline it towards adventure instead of routine, we must also use this right to write that each action has a consequence and leave everything to travel the world comes with a few of them, too. This said, my experience can’t and won’t be similar to anyone else’s and every word that is written about this subject must be taken as just someone’s opinion.

 If some of you have read some of my posts before, then you may also know that my personal circumstances were ideal for me to make big changes in my life.

To break free from things, stuff, people and familiar places was a big deal for me. With the insecurity that leaving all the familiarity behind, came the realisation that I was about to do something big and mentally challenging.

 And it was. For the next seven months I pushed myself until I became a person I liked again and I went to experience life as if no one was watching.

 

 

 Before and during my trip I searched and read inspiring blogs from random people with all sort of life backgrounds. I was often in awe reading some posts, in which these travellers/adventurers would tell how, through their trips, managed to build online businesses becoming successful entrepreneurs or would get paid by writing and other amazing antics to get some sort of income while travelling.    

 I badly wanted to be one of them but maybe because I was not focused on those days and I was most of the times wandering instead of wondering, I kept travelling and when the money started to run low, then that also meant that it was time to return.

 

 

What I mean is, that some of us we are mean to return and re attached with the life that we ran away from and others, are meant to wander indefinitely.

The last few months of my trip were full of ups and downs. My downs were quite remarkable because being a person that worries senseless about things that they haven’t even happened yet, I became sick with concern about going back home, all the worse scenarios crossing my mind creating a state of high anxiety.

Now sitting in my tiny London room while I’m writing this, I look behind to those moments and I can see why I felt like that.  I now understand that I left without being prepared to returned, that it didn’t occur to me that the journey would eventually bring me back  where I was, therefore meaning that I would have to confront building my life once again.

 

 

The end of my trip brought me back first, to my home country and then, back to my adopted one to start building my life. People say that for the first two weeks or so you feel happy to be back and rightly so, that was how I felt.

 Three months later I’m still unemployed and some days I feel sick with nostalgia. I can’t help to think that I could have done things differently while I was there, that with some effort and creativity; I could have become one of these creative bright people that, through their blogs, they make you feel so inadequate because they write about unique ways of living that some of us we can only dream of.

 I visit book shops, look at my pictures and leave my mind to wander to those days in far away lands and I feel almost physical pain that I’m not longer there. I also feel inadequate going to interviews and pretend that I want to become part again of this rat race and be promoted and earn lots shit of money by working twelve hours per day.

 

 I wish I could tell you that it is wonderful to be back and I’m looking forward to everything that it has yet to come but I can’t. I’m sure time will put things into perspective and a job will again bring me my happiest moments that will come in the shape of amazing trips.

 

 

 But three months later I miss the person I was. Some days I want to unfollow all the travellers groups that I have been joining through the months, in a variety of social media websites, because I struggle to be the one reading from home, when not so long ago I was the one offering advice from the lands that I’m now too far from.

 I guess I’m not different from the rest of the world and I often wished I could be someone else somewhere else. But the reality is right this moment, I am not that entrepreneur.

But this is today. Tomorrow anything can happen.