Hey there readers. Sorry it’s been a while. I’ve been moving and things have been crazy from trying to pack to almost getting evicted because of my ex, times have been too nuts to write. So I’m trying to get back to it again. Here we go…
I’ve recently come to terms with the fact that I have the heart of an adventurer, but the mind of an anxiety ridden, young adult. I have never found solice in staying in one place, my heart constantly yearns for another, but when it actually comes time to move, I’m an anxious mess. I think that may come from the fact that my mother and I were constantly moving after my parents split and when we did move, it almost always seemed rushed or inconvenient. At the same time, I loved it. I loved starting fresh, being able to reinvent myself if I had never been to that place. Going to places where no one knew my baggage, my past. It was hard too though, as I got older my social anxiety became worse and it was harder and harder to make friends in new places. The friends I did make almost always placed themselves right in my lap. So, my mom created a gypsy… and I’m okay with that.
Ive decided that I won’t be pleased until I travel everywhere, even the places my family has begged me for years not to go. The problems being, money and another adventurous soul. I need money to travel and, because of my most recent breakup and medical expenses, that is not something I have available to me currently. As for the other adventurous soul, it’s simply safer. That part of my anxiety is very clear to me. Besides, I want to experience traveling with someone else, to be able to discuss what we saw and re-live it later in life.
I don’t know. This post is kind of a ramble at this point. I’m realizing I’m not in the right space physically or mentally for writing, but I’m determined to keep this constant so I guess the best way to start is just to write, even if it’s crappy. Thanks for putting up with my shenanigans readers. Please be patient with me