In anticipation of my favorite holiday, I began to look over 2019 and what it meant to me: Attitudes, experiences, and disappointments. New Year's Eve approached bringing with it the promise of a long-awaited social opportunity as well as the sense of a new beginning. Keep in mind that I'm not one to wait for a new decade, year, month, or moment to pursue my dreams or to make a change. I'm very much a "here-and-now" kind of girl, but something about the concept of a reset is enticing.
My attitude toward change was demonstrated this summer with the decision to move to Rome after a few weeks spent in India. Walking ten to fifteen miles each day lends plenty of time for photos and reflection. While living in Spain in 2016, a very important question formed in my mind. I chose to leave that question, unanswered, in the streets of Sevilla, exactly where it found me. Nearly three years later, across the sea, it returned to me, and I knew there was no running away this time.
Spending my last week in Rome with a beloved stranger named Lizzie, our conversation turned to deliberations between pursuing family or succumbing to the wandering life. I rehearsed my philosophy on the paradox: "Do what you love and the right one will present himself there." Lizzie and I both agreed that we can't be happy with men who are too firmly rooted in one place, though the very act of traveling is non-conducive to the formation of lasting relationships. I thought, at that time, that I had reached an agreeable middle ground. I concluded that travel and family are both necessary and there will be a way to have both. Someday. My dilemma with travel was neutralized: In time I could have both of my deepest desires.
This is probably the point where I should mention that I am in no way a travel expert. I don't randomly go to Paris on a whim with friends. In fact, before Italy, I've never really traveled very far from home with anyone. When many people think of my life, I imagine they see it as free-and-easy and somewhat glamorous. I assure you, it isn't. I travel because I'm curious. I need to know how much I can learn/absorb and how quickly. Tourist traps generally don't appeal to me; I prefer wandering side-streets and talking with locals. So if you ask me what the Taj Mahal is like, I'll tell you I haven't been (although I've been in the neighboring city twice), but I can tell you how to dress, eat, and cross the street like a local. I can tell you about complexities and issues with India's social/family structures, but I've never seen the Ganges. But I digress.
At the beginning of 2019, my biggest issue regarding travel was the question of whether or not it was a practical lifestyle for the pursuit of a family. I wish that was the biggest problem travel ever presented me. No, the real effects of Rome didn't hit me until I had returned home to Logan. I became very depressed. This may be due in part to the dramatic decline in vitamin D and exercise, but I think its main cause is something more long-term.
In 2017, when I returned from my first trip to India (which was about 4 weeks), I was very careful not to get reverse culture shock and become depressed, as I heard that was common. I eased back into the solitude and silence that is life in the US. I did not take such precautions when returning from Rome. In Italy, I had many friends who were always willing to have an adventure. In Logan, in Utah, there aren't many opportunities to meet new people, much less new people with similar interests to mine. That being said, Utah does, in general, have the religion I prefer, but being 30-something and single in Logan is a severe hindrance to social growth. It's totally normal to be my age and single in Rome, but not so much here.
Social/romantic opportunities aside, the real way travel ruined my life is that I'm itchy. I feel...stuck when I sit still. I've seen enough to know that I don't belong here. I don't belong there either (wherever "there" is), but my clinging to a geographical region is diminished. I met some amazing people in 2019 and had some amazing experiences, and the more I do this, the more I feel I belong. These are MY people. And while the romantic dream remains unfulfilled, I'm blessed with very different individuals from very different walks of life who share one common passion. My passion.
2019 wrecked my life. I will never be the same. I can't go back, even if I wanted to. I can't decide if my habits are purely self-destructive like a tornado, or growth-inducing like a muscle that is torn. I know that I will never stop exploring. I'll never stop questioning. Traveling alone on my budget is a distinct degree of constant failure, which gives me access to constant growth. In 2019, I spent many days staring in the face of defeat. Much of my time was spent toeing the line between "can" and "can't", that is, until I determined the word "can't" is nothing more than a copout to me. If I was strong before, now I'm unstoppable. If I was brave, 2019 made me fearless.
And that's a scary thought.
