Queen of Nothing

Fair warning, this post does not include any adventure stories.  Quite the opposite, in fact.  This is probably only a good read if you’re really bored and you’ve been up all night wondering what has been going through my head for the past few months.

This Saturday, I’ll  be heading off on another adventure.  Bryce & I are flying into Nicaragua at 2am on Sunday morning and, to be honest, I’m not entirely sure how to feel.  That’s not to discount my excitement, but it feels like it’s been a million years since I was on a plane headed anywhere even remotely scary (no offense to Colorado) and I’m frankly a little worried that I forgot how to travel.  That might sound stupid to some people, but after spending 1 year visiting almost 20 countries, I felt like you could blindfold me and drop me anywhere on the planet and I’d figure it out.  Now, the idea that I have now been on a travel hiatus for almost 2 years makes me feel like I’m about to ride a bike again for the first time in ages and it will be really embarrassing if I crash into the realization that perhaps I need training wheels again.

So, to overcompensate and try to calm myself down, I made an Excel spreadsheet to keep track of my short little jaunt back to Central America and while making that sheet, I started to worry that I was doing it wrong.  When you’re traveling, particularly in off-the-beaten-path locations, you meet all of these amazing, brave, independent people who have no real destination and forever to get there.  Then you have me, on the other hand, trying to shove 2 years worth of travel into 2 weeks and now I’m struggling to remind myself that just because I like having a plan doesn’t make me any less of a “traveler.”  It’s not like I’m going to get kicked out of our hostel because I kept track of my spending on a color-coded document or wrote down my packing list.  No one is going to deny me surf lessons just for doing my research prior to leaving.  I won’t see upturned noses if I let it slip that I’m using precious few vacation days for this trip rather than up and quitting my desk job to pursue traveling freely.  That’s not how this works- no one is going to judge me harder than I judge myself.

Perhaps that’s the root of my “quarter-life crisis” that I’m experiencing- I placed, and still place, a little too much pressure on myself.  4 years ago, I set myself a goal to see 25 countries by the time I turned 25.  4 years ago, 25 countries sounded impossible.  It sounded like the entire world could be seen in 25 countries.  It sounded like I would be the Queen of Traveling if I had seen 25 countries.  I’d be cultured and experienced and, more importantly, unstoppable.  But now, having met people who have seen 100+ countries, traveled to exotic corners of the earth, and spent years on the road, 25 seems like chump change.  And yet, here I am, not even at 25.  Not even remotely close to feeling cultured or experienced.  My two year hiatus proved that I am, in fact, very stoppable. In this instance, I am Queen of Nothing.

I made the mistake of rereading this blog near my birthday and while much of it brought me so much joy and reminded me of so many forgotten memories, the “About Me” section stung.  I wrote that years ago, with big dreams of changing the world.  Pipe dreams of grad school and volunteer work and hundreds of plane tickets.   Now, here I am, loving my job and loving the people I work with and the experience that I’m getting, but feeling like I would have disappointed 20 year old me.  Granted, there were a lot of things about the world that 20 year old me didn’t fully realize (i.e. the impact of student debt), but still.  Today, the “About Me” section would read a bit differently.  Maybe it’s time for an update, but for some reason, I feel like erasing that “About Me”, where I explained who I thought I was and who I thought I’d be, would erase a lot more than just text.  This blog served as a journal during my travels, and I hope that it continues to do that, but in order to serve that purpose I think it should be a record of my changes and my growth as a person.  Deleting entire sections would go against that idea.

Regardless, 20 year old me wouldn’t be too disappointed.  My life is full of absolutely amazing people and opportunities.  Just because I’m not living out of a suitcase doesn’t make me any less “successful.”  Hell, I don’t even like the idea of living out of a suitcase! I love traveling and seeing new things, but I also know that I love my apartment, and my dog, and my boyfriend, and my friends and I’m not ready to give that all up for an extended period of time.  Now more than ever, I have to actively work at reminding myself that people are different.  I see travel bloggers on Instagram in unique and wondrous environments and I feel immediate jealousy for their current situation.  But then I feel guilty for not actually wanting to live their life, just that particular moment.  I love exploring new places and meeting new people and being exposed to new ideas, so why wouldn’t I want to do it every second of every day?  How can I say that I love traveling if I don’t actually want to live the life of a nomad?  How can I give any travel advice when I know that I have hardly scratched the surface?  How can I say that traveling is my favorite pastime if I wouldn’t actually drop everything and leave right now to live in a foreign country.  I want to be this fun, carefree, super chill person who can pack a bag 20 minutes before a flight with absolutely no plan and no return date.  But at this point of my life- I. Am. Not. That. Person.

So maybe that’s my big realization.  I need to chill out on telling myself to chill out.  I need to let go of whatever skewed criteria I have in my mind that defines a “traveler.”  Some people are born to travel the world freely and independently, with no real plan or budget or bucket list.  Some people, on the other hand, are built for spreadsheets and at least a semblance of a plan, even if it never works out; traveling whenever they can, wherever works at that time, with people who mean the world to them.  No type of person is better or worse.  Neither is more interesting than the other.  And, most importantly, there is absolutely no reason I should be trying to force myself to change the way I think about things in order to fit into a label that I’ve created in my head.

Maybe this resonated with someone.  Maybe you see girls on Instagram doing yoga all day every day and feel like you too should be 110 pounds and standing on your hands in order to say that you enjoy yoga.  Or maybe you see your childhood friend getting married or having kids and you feel like you are somehow less of an adult because you are still spending Saturdays at the bars and Sundays watching Netflix.  Or maybe you see an old classmate graduate their Master’s program and you’re now somehow convinced that they are more successful than you are.  So here’s your reminder that just because someone else seems to embody “success” or “perfection” or “happiness” by doing certain things (and you only see the highlight reel on social media), that doesn’t mean that you need to follow their exact path in order to be “accomplished.”

And just like that, this blog has turned back into a journal of sorts.  So welcome, readers, to an inside look at a 24 year old who has almost nothing figured out, but you can bet your ass that whatever it is, I’ve probably got an Excel sheet for it.

Hopefully, starting at the end of this week, this blog will have more fun, exotic travel stories full of sunburns and muddy shoes and language barriers and less sad ramblings of a quarter life crisis.

Here’s to hoping!