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Globetrotting Trepidation

by Millie Clayton (follow)
Life (606)      Happiness (234)      Self (32)      Travel (17)      Journey (10)      Self Indulgence (3)      Pursuits (1)      Voyage (1)     


With making the voyage to any new place comes the expectation of meeting new people, experiencing new cultures, and experiencing new epiphanies with regards to who the hell you are and what the hell you are doing. Through personal experience, an example of a superficial epiphany transpired into my present knowledge that I not only hate city hopping, but my body continues to reject sangria despite one's best intentions.

Here, I reflect upon past travel through the eyes of a present self, awaiting an imminently new adventure in Buenos Aries. Honestly, I am experiencing periods of freaking out, and I am trying to figure out why this is the case.

I reflect back on the travel decisions I've made in the past, with a combination of horror and respect. The stupid little nineteen year old that I was actually thought I would enjoy club hopping from city to city. Despite this, I reminisce with utmost admiration as I booked a flight two days before departing in a frenzied desperation to escape. This act was performed in the absence of any panic attacks. Now, three years later, I am at a complete loss trying to remember how I summoned the strength to do that. It seems to me as being very irresponsible in hindsight. And immature. And stupid. Yet, somehow awesome.

My fair-weathered adolescence pertained multiple instances of claustrophobia. Lucky for me, the leniency of university and hospitality employment allowed me to get out. I left without leaving anything behind. There wasn’t any responsibilities, and there wasn’t any foresight on what the future held. Leaving provided immediate gratification. It fulfilled a desire for independence; a fantasy filled with escapism, and an unrequited craving for inspiration.

Presently, I’m awaiting the arrival of Valentine’s Day where I will fly to Argentina. This impetuous booking left me feeling frazzled amidst invigoration. This was short-lived. This trip will formulate yet another story being the mark of a third trip I embark upon independently. I am somewhat organised when it comes to travel, and have confirmed about fifty times that I am absolutely, definitely staying with a friend of mine located in Buenos Aires. I have half packed and then re-packed, and then made sure I have done to-do lists and ticked off everything on these lists. However something in my stomach continued to persist. It was demanding me to consult myself and second guess the decision to travel.

Fantasies of constant transformation have me excited to continuously make acquaintance with myself. After each learning experience, I emerge as a person that has transcended the person before. For a period there, it seemed that all I was feeling was anguished. I questioned why my nervousness began to overpower my excitement. I was nervous because as much as I wanted to grow, I thought that I had began to become jaded by past torments. We get old but maybe we should never grow up. I suddenly thought that growing up involves the burden of the past bearing its weight on your shoulders. It is so refreshing meeting someone who isn’t tainted by life, and who remains to be consistently curious and inquisitive. I went to Europe three years ago uninhibited and relentless, and now I have waves of the sensation that I am stuffed with trepidation.

Through introspection I had to contrast the differences in my life to unveil the answer to my travel torment. The reason for my anxiety is that this time, I am not taking off as a means to escape my troubles. This time, I have an opportunity. I am not suddenly urging myself to get out and take a break because I am in love with the life I am living. More importantly, I am excited for the future, and have found people to surround myself with. I feel separation anxiety at the prospect of leaving. This wasn’t the case three years ago. There wasn’t anything to miss as I was taking myself with me.

My anxiety has reconstructed into a new pleasure at the knowledge that I am going to miss things. I have never really experienced missing something or someone. It is a sensation that is entirely disparate to my own individual concerns. Finally, I have become rewarded with a life where I no longer have the liberty of being so self-involved.

# Travel
# Self Indulgence
# Self
# Life
# Happiness
# Pursuits
# Voyage
# Journey
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