I’ve been really struggling for motivation lately. To make visual content for social media, to write, to work my business. I feel like I hit roadblocks because selling travel is completely new to me. I have a hard time motivating myself when I feel stuck. And admittedly, I probably spend a little too much time daydreaming. I’m often thinking about, researching, or watching videos about various places around the world. I have a few travel guides on my bookshelves for Spain, Portugal, Ireland, Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, Thailand, and for the National Parks in the United States. I also have the essential 1000 Places to See Before You Die. All of them are riddled with notes in the margins or sticky notes poking out of various places. And all of them take me to a new place, just flipping through the pages.
I also remember the places I’ve been, and while I will forever be thankful for my experiences I’ve had so far, I do sometimes think about things I’d wish I had done while I was still there. My last month-long excursion to Spain, the Netherlands, and France (Paris) was a trip of a lifetime, though it made me realize that I want to take things slower. I think I could do a trip with multiple destinations again, but if I do I want to give myself more time in between travel days. I want to explore a town or city more, take day trips to temples or castles and come back to my hostel or hotel, able to rest knowing I don’t have to jetset the next morning at 6am. I think most trips I plan in the foreseeable future will be a week to ten days and in one to two locations, though the next time I can take a longer trip I want to save for an excursion I’ll be on for months.
Anyway…
I often think of the places I’ve been, and the places I haven’t, and I wonder what place is meant for me. I never really questioned belonging somewhere other than where I grew up until I studied abroad the summer after my freshman year of high school. It was more of a student ambassador program that took me and the group I was with to England, the Republic of Ireland, and Wales. Those weeks spent in an entirely new place, with new customs and culture and language (though they primarily spoke English, I was also exposed to Welsh and Gaelic), were eye opening. The idea of seeing a whole world outside of my own never left my mind after that. I was hooked.
Since then, I’ve been daydreaming of what life would be like elsewhere. The idea of traveling to faraway lands and places, seeing where my heart feels settled. Because since that trip, I haven’t felt that way. Home felt stagnant, small, and sometimes shaded gray. Even pictures of other places screamed in color. And most of my connections were vapid – while I’ve maintained connection with a few people from growing up, most of my ties to my childhood and teen years are gone. I think this is a natural thing that happens with most people, but I think it depends on a person if they see it as a bad thing, a good thing, or a necessary step to moving on with their life. I fall into the last category.
My daydreaming ran especially rampant during my dad’s illness. In the last years of his life, my family and I were bound to home, being his caregivers until he went into a nursing facility, and then visiting him every day. Consumed by the grief of losing him, of losing time, of losing opportunities, I often dreamed of going elsewhere. Anywhere. Then a few years after he died, I went to four different countries in one year: Honduras, Spain, the Netherlands, and France. It was one of the most healing years of my life. I traveled to Honduras for service work, entrenched in a rural and mountainous part of the country helping to bring medical care to remote communities. It was an eye opening experience that I’ve written about before on an old blog (I’ll likely bring that post onto this one). Then the trip to Europe was part solo travel, part visiting a friend and family I had not seen in a very long time. It was beautiful, vibrant, and healing for me in its own right – visiting my friend in Spain was a special time, and visiting my cousin in the Netherlands was a time of reflection and bonding. I will cherish those visits until I lose my memory or my life.
But to say I felt a sense of belonging?
“Do I belong here?”
I don’t know. I would say the place that came the closest to that feeling was Madrid. The city was walkable, the people were kind, the food and atmosphere were incredible. Maybe the context of it being the first few days of my trip and I was alone and able to take my time plays into this, but I felt calm and content. Then traveling to Valencia and Gandia were wonderful as well. The architecture and food were amazing. I did at one point think “I could live here,” and sometimes the thought crosses my mind still. Spain will always hold a special place in my heart, and sometimes I do make flimsy future plans that involve me living there. But I wonder…
Can I just move somewhere and I’ll acclimate and be fine? Will I come across a place in my travels that I fall in love with instantly, or meet the right people while there and decide “this is it” and begin making plans? I can’t say for certain. Nobody could. But I I know I’m not supposed to stay here. I grew up in Virginia in the United States, and have moved to West Virginia a few years ago, which isn’t much of a change. Since dad’s death, since old connections have fallen away and my closest friends have moved on with their lives, I don’t feel a tie to this place. Which leaves me feeling restless. I want to find community elsewhere. I want to experience life elsewhere. I want to see beauty elsewhere. I won’t move until after my mom passes, but where I’ll go, I haven’t decided yet.
For now, I’ll plan some future trips and enjoy those. I’ll be headed back to Honduras this fall, but I’ll be with my sister for leisure this time in Roatán. Then, I think my next goal is Copenhagen. I’ve come across a lot of things online about it and it all has me excited!
Until next time 🙂
Whimzy Travels 