It’s like a mysterious force is taking over my brain. The force isn’t me; how could it be? It argues with me, screams into my mind, tells me that nothing will ever work out. It whispers there is no hope, nobody cares, you’d be better off dead…
Then there are those times I feel nothing more than despondent. I feel down, lonely, bored, but not like it’s the bloody end of the world. I suppose I should embrace those pathetic times as beautiful in comparison.
My normal impulses pull me in every direction, confused and lost, while my brain fights against an evil dragon who won’t relent. If only I could calm him down! We are so powerful when my dragon is at peace – when he pushes me up instead of down, when he makes me follow my dreams instead of stagnating. Together, we can conquer the world.
Or he can end mine.
On an impulse, in a moment of – what was it? Clarity? Certainly not. Nor was I in a panicked place, yet it had to be done RIGHT THEN. It had to. Otherwise I was trapped, I told myself. I booked a flight to my Mexican paradise, Zipolite. Hell, my visa debit card wouldn’t even work, so I had a friend book it. It had to happen now. There was no way I could wait, sleep on it. Ha – as if I could sleep. A good night has me in bed from midnight to 4am, suddenly awakened by the burden of life (or is it the need to pee?)
The next day, just shy of 24 hours later, a full blown panic attack broke out. How could I go so far away again? Was I just repeating old cycles of running, always searching for that something that can be found nowhere but within the self? And if things got worse, how could I get the necessary care? I couldn’t go to Mexico! How absurd!
A rushed message to my friend who thank god understands that I am a crazy person and was fine with calling the company to cancel immediately, and I got my money back. Panic attack calmed. Phew. Just going to Campbell River. Staying in Canada. Going where friends are. Edmonton is a short-ish ride away (I look very forward to tonight’s 16 hour bus ride to Vancouver, because what’s more fun that the Greyhound?! Everything. Everything is more fun that the Greyhound.)
I should be terribly excited but I’m afraid I’m not (sorry to any friends I’m about to see; I do love you dearly). All I really feel is blankness… a bleak feeling that here, there, it’s all the same. Will I hide in my pyjamas all day, doing nothing, seeing no one, just as I do here? It’s likely. Will my mind ravage my sane thoughts, causing me to bawl, hyperventilate, and lose all hope (whatever hope I have left)? Probably. Will it change anything to move? Undetermined. At least it’s warmer.
Recently I realized what the one thing I’d learned from three and a half years straight on the road was. It was so simple, and there all along. It took looping the world and covering over 30 countries to figure out something so easy. The only thing that matters in the end is who you have around you. For the last year I’ve been as lonely as they come, craving human contact. Yet when I obtain it, I feel distant. Cry around my best friend? Impossible. Confide that I’m not sure I even want to continue to travel? Forget it. And how complicated is that! I’m a nomad who wishes not to travel, yet feels this pull that I can’t resist. I can’t get a lease and a home and a 9 to 5 job. I’d wither and die. Then again, what am I doing but the same now?
So I’m pretty sure we’ve reached the point where this is no longer a travel blog. It’s more a look-inside-Danie’s-frightening-brain blog. If you’re looking to get inspired to hit the road, best hit up a different travel site. But if you’re still with me through all of this, well then you must be half as crazy as I am. I like you.