On Being an Ungrateful Sod

I think it’s called “not seeing the wood for the trees”. That feeling you get when you should be totally immersing yourself in something and yet something less significant is distracting you from it.

That’s pretty much how I feel all the time when I’m travelling.

People back home don’t want to hear you say that travel is stressful. They would snort and laugh and say how ridiculous a notion that is, whilst they are stuck facing real stress every day in an office situation. And yet, in its own way, travel can be just as stressful as a demanding boss. Except unfortunately the demanding boss is now you.

Where should I go tomorrow? Or next week? Or next month? Should I stay here, which costs less but looks like it would leave me rocking myself to sleep in a corner with the shame of it, or there which at least has free breakfast? Why is money running out so quickly? Should I be travelling differently? Am I travelling too quickly, or too slowly? Am I doing enough “travelly” type things? Am I having enough authentic experiences? What happens if the money runs out and I have to go home? Yeah, it just goes on and on.

Unfortunately for me, I have never been very good about not worrying about money. Especially the lack of it. And as I have no regular pay packet being deposited into my bank account each month anymore, it scares me. And so I worry. I worry far too much. And then I feel ungrateful because I’m in some wonderful place looking at some wonderful scenery and all I can do is worry. And I know there are thousands of people out there who would kill to be in my shoes right now. My friend even messaged me the other day to tell me “how proud she was of me”. I almost cried thinking of her at home, dreaming about my adventures, adventures that she too should be having. But unfortunately, worry is still hard-grained into me.

A big part of it is that at the moment I CAN’T stop travelling. Not because I won’t, or don’t want to go home. I actually can’t. If I stop travelling and go home, my boyfriend and I have to be apart. Because for now, as boyfriend and girlfriend from across the Atlantic, we can’t legally live together in the same country, or not for any extended period of time. So if the trip ends, effectively so could our time together. And I can’t risk that. Which means that I pile even more pressure upon myself than I would if I were travelling solo.

I know eventually, everything will be alright in the end. It always is. Whether that’s on the road or elsewhere. But sometimes it’s hard to see the wood for the trees.

So for now, I guess I’ll have to be an ungrateful sod who is having the time of her life, but worrying about it ending at any moment.