The Itch

I don't know if I've ever mentioned it here, but I know it's that tiny little author bio on one side of the website, (which is really nothing more than a blip and usually overlooked) but last spring, I took five weeks out of my daily life and backpacked through Europe. I started in Rome, Italy, and made my way up through France, Ireland, and England, finally taking my departure from London. This trip had been something I always wanted to do. When the full reality of it started becoming more than an ideal or dream and started turning into an actuality, it took me two years of careful planning, saving, and research in order to make it happen. Being the first trip I ever took alone and ever being out of the country, I needed to make sure I knew what the hell I was doing (in theory) because I knew the reality of what was going to face me when I got there was going to be completely chaotic and disorienting.

About half way through my trip I started feeling as though this was going to be enough. Five weeks backpacking on my own, completely starting over in every city with the people I met, unpacking my bag, re-packing my bag, only ever really communicating with my friends and family electronically and from thousands of miles away, I honestly believed I was ready for the next part of my life. I figured whatever had been that driving force, the drum that constantly beat in the background of my life urging me to take this trip had been silenced. On my arrival home I felt content. The familiarity of my family and friends, even my job that I don't particularly care for, was welcoming. It felt right. I lacked the desire to leave and the need to stay was stronger than ever.

Make no mistake, my trip was amazing! I had a great time. The things I got to do and see, the people I met, the things I learned, and especially the things I learned about myself, were completely worth it. But for as fun as it was too, I had a lot of ups and downs. There were days I had full blown panic attacks from being scared out of my mind. Or days I simply was struggling with the distance and the loneliness.

It has been almost exactly eleven months since I left for Europe. I suppose I'm thinking about it more now since this was the time last year I was really getting everything ready to go. It was all the last minute supply shopping, reservation confirmationing, planning, ticket checking, packing, repacking, it was absolutely everything. And now, I realize, my drum is back in full cadence, urging me to do something. To go somewhere.

The itch to be out seeing and experiencing is back and the compelling urge to simply leave is so strong. I think this time it may be even stronger than before because I know what there is to experience. I've done it once and even with the 'bad' stuff I went through on my last trip I think I'm more motivated to do it again because of it. It may be the time to start planning and saving.

It's cliche, but being young is really the time of a person's life, and if it's not now it's never.