I was completely in two minds about whether I continued to write my reflections or not but thinking on it for a while I believe that, at the moment, they still serve a purpose even if it is just for me. The last time I wrote was sat in sydney airport waiting to catch my flight back to England after 11 months away from my family. I was a bit of a mess. A ball of nerves and expectations.
My expectations were met and in some cases exceeded but in the end predictions of change, or lack there-of, were spot on. It was a whirlwind two weeks and immediately after landing wondered why I was even worried about heading home in the first place. After only a few days finding myself sinking back into life pre-adventure and struggling to remember my last years worth of adventures. Struggling to remember the city in the southern hemisphere i had come to call home. It is bewildering how that happens.
My trip to Stockholm was possibly one of the best things i could have done for myself during my visit as not only did it give me the opportunity to spend it with my East Coast Family, it reminded me why I need to travel, explore and adventure. Travelling has become so much more to me than it was before, it has become my companion and friend. Satisfying the deepest parts of my being and making me completely at home in my own skin. There have always been a lot of years, and influences, that have made me feel less than myself but I have also always been a very sensitive soul.
Family were my top priority and as the days sped away and it become time to look at travelling back to my life on the other side of the planet. Emotions ran amock. Attempting to once again pack belongings into my suitcase and make sure everything relevant for the future was safely stored in that big blue friend with wheels. I cant even being to tell you how many hours were spent worrying I had forgotten something. Putting things in only to remove them to make way for something more important but that’s another story. One I promise to tell soon.