I’m really starting to hit my stride on this trip.  Gone are the fears and homesickness.

I went out for dinner the other night and didn’t feel weird about sitting at the bar with my book.  In the past, I’d been that girl, alone on a weekend night, wanting to go out but worried about people feeling sorry for me even though I wasn’t lonely at all.  I always had friends who could join me but sometimes after a day of meetings and talking to people, all I wanted was a good meal I hadn’t cooked myself and to enjoy my book and my solitude.  I’d been the girl who’d chosen to stay at home instead of doing what I’d really craved just because of how I thought a stranger might perceive my actions.

That girl was gone.

I was alone, completely alone for the first time of this trip and it was glorious.  I could walk around the house I’d rented completely naked if I wanted to.  I could go out wherever I wanted, whenever I wanted.  I could be a tourist or a local.  I could be anyone.  There’s nobody here to contradict whatever story I concoct.  I’m nobody.  And somehow that gives me the freedom to be anybody.

I imagine even being anybody would get boring eventually.

I’ve always had this struggle between wanting to go and also wanting to stay; in places, in moments, with people.  I’ve struggled to let go and also to hold on.  I’ve always felt more free in the spaces between.  That has somehow made me feel more at home in movement.  Perhaps that’s why I travel so much.  Perhaps that’s why I struggle to commit.

Or perhaps that struggle simply comes from the experiences of the past.  I had a moment of panic in my 20’s when I thought to myself, “Oh my God, this is the rest of my life and I’m miserable.”  And so I left.  And I haven’t committed in that way since.

My boyfriend and I have been broaching the subject of moving in together and while that’s less scary than marriage, it’s still scary.  I’m trying to make decisions based on love and not fear but I never want to have that feeling of being trapped again.  He seems to understand this because he’s never held on to me too tightly.  Perhaps that’s why he feels like home.

About The Author

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>