A lot of people have had opinions about my Gap Year.
Some think it sounded amazing, others didn’t. Some commented ‘I’m so jealous’, while others told me I was ‘travelling wrong’ because I didn’t consume enough alcohol.
That is fine. Everyone is entitled to their opinion.
But a common belief seems to be that it was bad that I wanted to come home.
Don’t get me wrong, my Gap Year was one of the most incredible experiences of my life, and I am thankful for every moment. Every lesson, every laugh, every location. I look back over my photos and I have tears in my eyes and a smile on my lips, remembering each moment with wistful bliss.
When travelling, I had a lot of time to think, to reflect, to have OMG moments where I saw my life with complete and utter clarity.
I realized I wanted to go home not because I was having a bad time overseas, but because home is just so awesome.
Comfort, familiarity, friends, routine, delicious food, Manly bloody Beach! I missed things that I didn’t realize I even valued, like having drawers and an oven.
I don’t want to go back overseas (now anyway), nor do I have ‘Post Gap-Year depression’.
I love my life. I love my family. I love my bedroom. I love normality and progression.
The feeling of getting a new job, making money, going shopping, beautiful dinners out, dancing (OMG I cant believe I am saying this) at Shark Bar. The feeling of moving on with your life, heading forward.
Travelling allows you to be free, detached, void of responsibility. You become child again, taking each day at a time, the purpose of living just for pleasure.
Which is fantastic for a while, but without purpose and progression I get sad. I feel worthless. I feel like I am not valued because I am not giving anything back.
So yeah, I was ready to come home.
But that’s not a bad thing.