‘If your dreams don’t scare you, they are not big enough’
My story of my first solo travel experience for a unknown period.
After leaving the place I called home for ten years, my partner, my dear dog and cats, our friends, my house and the car, I went to live on my own in a small apartment in a nearby city. I needed this, I needed to be on my own to learn more about myself and grow in different ways.
I have had the urge to travel for years, repeating itself over and over. Somehow we couldn’t make it happen together. So there I was, on my own in my new house, no animals or partner waiting for me to come home. I wanted to go and travel but I knew that the process of letting go all that you have loved for so long, needed time and attention. In my opinion it would be better to process everything, go through the hard part of letting go and get comfortable on my own, at home in the Netherlands before I went traveling.
So I ate that big bucket of shit. It took me about six months before the pain reduced enough to be able to start building my new life. In this year things changed at my job, it went from my dreamjob to a job where I was fighting against the system and the changes all the time, really quickly. So after a year I made the choice to quit. I studied for 7 years to do this job because I wanted a job I loved, this was not the case anymore so I stayed true to myself, got my priorities straight and left. This was also the point where I decided to go traveling as soon as possible.
I started doing my homework about traveling in February, looked for jobs in other nations, tried to get a second job. I didn’t care how I was going to manage, I was determined I would go and travel. Then, lucky as I was, I took a good deal with the company I worked for. I was going to leave in July with enough money for my travels because of this deal and the money I could save in that period.
On the day I signed the contract to quit, I booked a one way ticket to Bali.
The weird part was, I was not that excited as I expected, I think that the main feeling I was experiencing was fear, fear for the unknown. During the months between booking and leaving I went through an emotional roller coaster. Sometimes I was excited but never that much because of fear spoiling it every time. So I made it a practical process, just get shit done. I got all the stuff I needed, I took care of arranging everything well enough to be able to leave for an unknown period of time. In the last two months I visited almost all of my friends to say goodbye and enjoy my time with them. A month before I left I moved out of my apartment. That was pretty hard because I really came to love that place. But after I moved out and moved in at my dad’s place it felt good to break free from the material attachment. It also took a bit of the stress away, because being without my own house felt really good. I realized home was not the house you live in, home is where your friends and family are. And maybe home is in your heart.. I felt comfortable with myself, no matter where I was, so maybe I am my own home.
A week before I left, the stress suddenly rose up very high, I even had a migraine on a festival, a festival I had been looking forward to a whole year! And I, believe it or not, got the first fucking hemorrhoid in my life haha! I could not really enjoy things like I usual do, I slept bad because every time I woke up the tension in my body stopped me from falling asleep again. At one point, when I was with my two very best friends, I broke down and cried. A thing I did not really allow myself to do because what I was about to do should be fun, right? But of course it helped me to get rid of some tension in my body and with those loving people around me, who said just the right things, it was good to let it be and accept my emotions.
D-day, the day I took the flight. I really had to drag myself to the airport. My dear friends and amazing mother were with me. We all had a hard time saying goodbye but I am so thankful they were with me on that big life-changing and extremely terrifying moment.
I got on my first flight to London Heathrow and I had a hard time not getting too emotional. On Heathrow Airport I could not hold it anymore and had to stop at all the restrooms I passed during my way to the gate, to let go some of the tears that I was trying to keep inside. In the plane to Kuala Lumpur, I broke down. It was dark so I could let it all go (no I don’t cry in public, yes that is stupid but that is another topic, let’s talk about that later). My doubts reached their peak, I was even a bit disappointed in myself for thinking I was up for this. All these months I believed that once in the plane, the fear would make room for excitement, but it didn’t. I was scared as fuck and didn’t know what to do. I was sitting in an airplane, left my whole life behind, flying to the other side of the world without knowing I could do this.. I must be insane.
When I arrived in Singapore, after a transfer in KL, my luggage was not there. They promised they would send it to Bali if they located it. So I took my next flight and went to my homestay in Kuta. It took them 5 days to get me my backpack, so the start was pretty shitty. But it turned out to actually be good for me. I learned to accept things the way they are and after a couple of days I started to enjoy being abroad, although Kuta was shit. When I came to the point where I really accepted the fact that my bag was lost, they called me they found it. That evening, while watching the sunset on the beach, I that it would take me a long time before I would go back home because I loved this life already!
‘Happiness is on the other side of fear’
