14 May 2019

It was my mum’s 50th. I had been home one day from backpacking for a month around Vietnam, and the post-travel slump had already begun to take over me. 

I was talking to one of my mum’s close friends about how I really wanted to move out but because I’d just been travelling, I felt as though if I left home now, I would never have the money to see the world in the way I wanted.

She said to me, “why don’t you just move overseas?”

I was stunned. I had always kept the thought of moving out of the country in the back of my mind, as an escape route of sorts, but I had never thought about it seriously. For some reason when she brought up the idea, nothing else had made more sense.

I told my mum immediately, she was shocked (a lil drunk from her birthday drinks) but super supportive, and that was it; I had decided to haphazardly leave the country in the 24 hours since I had re-entered it. On paper, it seems like something that I decided on a whim, but deep down, I know it’s something that I’ve been thinking about for a while; I just needed someone to prompt it.

 

I’ve lived in my hometown all my life, in the same house, with the same family, and mostly the same friends. I have loved and loathed every aspect of these things throughout it all, (the love far outweighing the loathing), but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want something new.

There’s something about living in your hometown that gets claustrophobic. The familiarity of it all is no longer comforting, it's suffocating. I feel as though I’m living a life of routine, one I want to get out of as soon as possible. I’m extremely lucky enough to have the freedom to just go and leave without fear or responsibility.

So I booked my flight. I booked a music festival ticket in Barcelona. I have three weeks of hostel work planned in Italy. I have a month staying with a friend in Germany. I’m working on a boat in the Greek Islands for a week. And then? Great question! I have absolutely no idea, but I am so unapologetically unafraid of the unknown – it excites me like nothing before in my life.

I leave in three days, and honestly, I’m only just now beginning to feel nervous. Not because of travelling, but because I’m leaving everything behind. This week has been a week of goodbyes, and I only have more to go through. I have no idea how long I’ll be gone for and the uncertainty is upsetting but worth it.

This time next year, I could still be in Europe. I could be back at home. I could be in another city or country or continent entirely. But, despite everything, I’m happy with whatever path life takes me, and I hope I can be gone long enough where I find the joy and comfort in familiarity again.