desiree

The first half of my 32nd year saw me the happiest I’ve been in my adult life. After moving to Melbourne in 2016 and starting over from scratch, years of hard work finally paid off and I felt as though all the pieces of my life were in place. My career, relationships, home and finances were all where I wanted them to be. For the first time in my life, I had a strong sense of purpose and confidence in myself, and the part I play in this world. On top of that, I had two amazing holidays: first to Bali on one of the most relaxing, indulgent and rejuvenating trips I’ve ever been on, then home to Canada for the first time in two years to spend Christmas with family and childhood friends. I entered 2020 feeling balanced and optimistic for the year ahead, oozing with gratitude for the life I was living.

Then in a flash, life as we knew it was thrown upside down when COVID-19 hit.

It’s now been a blurry five months of constantly living and working from home, while trying to adjust to this restrictive way of existing. After successfully flattening the curve during Melbourne's first lockdown, we were given a brief taste of freedom before going back into a second, harsher lockdown last month. We are again bound to our homes and cut off from our friends and loved ones until September, at least.

My husband often tries to put a positive spin on all of this, saying “at least we’re not living through a world war!” - and I agree, the sacrifice of staying home seems pale in comparison to what other generations had to endure.

But I believe what makes ongoing lockdown so difficult - so emotionally taxing - is that we are deprived of the human connections which make us uniquely “human”. The moments and memories we create together give us purpose and feed our souls. Take this away from us, throw in a curfew, mandatory face masks and add in the stress of a global pandemic, it’s no wonder people are struggling.

As an extrovert, I know these in-person connections are what fuel me. They energize me so I can thrive and be my best productive self, enabling me to go back out into the world and pass on energy and light to others. I’m not sure I have a lot of tangible skills to brag about, but I’ve always considered myself a “people person” and truly believe this has not only helped me grow my career into a leadership role, it has also led me to curate a really fulfilling life with deep and meaningful relationships.

So...what does an extroverted, people-person do in lockdown? How do I accept the fact that it’s impossible to know when I’ll be able to see my family and friends across the globe? How do I energize myself without the social connections that I was sure to keep up on weekends to refuel myself for the work week ahead? How do I reignite my passion for life when so much of what brought me joy is out of reach?

Lockdown has been hard on everyone for different reasons, devastating people’s livelihoods, incomes, and even personal safety. Mental health is at an all time low, and as I sit here with my privilege of never having experienced debilitation due to my mental state, the past month since going back into lockdown has challenged me like never before. I’m grappling with constant mood swings, a victim of the “coronacoaster” of emotions that so many of us are trapped on. Some days, I feel great and productive and energized; others, I feel so far from my “normal” self - or, at least what I had grown to recognize as “normal”. My glass has become more empty than full, while uninvited negative thoughts creep their way into my typically cheerful mind. 

I am still learning to be OK with not being OK, while also still mourning the loss of my life that once was. At least a silver lining of all this is that these circumstances have forced us to really talk about our mental health, normalizing anxiety and depression and ultimately providing space for others to feel less alone in their struggles. The conversations I’ve been having with close friends have been more open and honest than ever, as we find solidarity in experiencing the same challenging emotions which this wild year has forced to the surface.

You've been working extremely hard, and it's paid off as you've found success in your job.  Although in the past you've been one to get bored with routines, you now find comfort in seeing familiar faces at the office, taking the lifts to the same floor each morning and after 3+ years with the same company, you feel as though you belong.

Although it wasn't an easy habit to create, for the first time in your life you're a morning workout person. You found a gym where the trainers know everyone by name, and they connect in regularly to keep you motivated and accountable. You're the fittest you've been since moving from Canada, and you feel happy and energized and strong.  

You're still trying to find the balance of spending your money wisely, and sometimes feel guilty after a big night out with friends, buying drink after drink as the nights turn long, the discussions more amusing and the music grows louder. But you love the freedom this lifestyle offers, so you make the most of living in this vibrant city.

In fact, you've been living in Melbourne for nearly 4 years. You can't imagine living anywhere else. You've become accustomed to the city's constant pulse - it's a colourful place, a truly special mix of restaurants, music, shops, events and spaces. Everything is within reach and you're constantly discovering something new - and with that, life feels full and interesting. Just as easily, you can take a short weekend drive out of the city to amazing beaches and wineries and small towns where city dwellers are welcome to explore local shops and farm to table cafes.

You're spending the end of 2019 with your family and childhood friends back in Canada, feeling loved and grateful to be on the other side of the world with these people who mean so much to you.

Des,

2020 will bring forth change like you could have never anticipated.

Little do you know, in what will feel like overnight, your entire way of life will drastically change.

First the skies will close and planes will lie still. You'll cancel your travel plans for the remainder of the year - it's unclear when you will see your family again.

Next, events will be cancelled and parties put on hold, as the city begins to fall uncomfortably quiet. Your office will shut its doors, along with the restaurants and bars and shops you used daily. Your gym will close, and beaches, parks and playgrounds will be roped off from use.

Then, you'll be told to stay home, and not to leave unless you absolutely must.

For nearly 2 months, you'll work and live at home without any separation. Days will blur together, you'll lose sense of time and purpose and find yourself reminiscing on the days when you laughed deeply without a true care.

You'll try to push away feelings of anxiety and self-pity, telling yourself you're one of the "lucky ones", privileged with a stable job and a home where you feel safe and loved and never alone. You aren't easily willing to give yourself any space to feel low; however, this will backfire as you'll occasionally wake at 3am feeling overwhelmed by the uncertainty of the world around you.

Des,

Practice patience. This has never been your forte, but during your 2 months of isolation, you'll find you start to slow down. There is no longer a rush to get anywhere or meet anyone or make it to a show or a booking on time. So move slowly. The world, for the first time ever, is encouraging you to do so.

Limit your media and news intake. Staying constantly in the know will not bring solutions forward more quickly; rather, it will simply increase your anxiety as you worry for others all over the globe who are facing much more challenging times than you.

Go outside. Often.

Remember, that although you are indeed a "lucky one", life has changed beyond recognition and with that will inevitably come feelings of anxiety and anger and hopelessness and grief. That's OK. Mental health is unpredictable and complex, constantly shifting without warning. Ride the waves and remove any guilt of experiencing these glimmers of struggle.

You will find gratitude in the smallest things, which before you simply saw as givens. Your first takeout coffee after 30 days of home brew will taste like the finest coffee you've ever had. The lake across the street will feel like a sanctuary, which you rarely made time to visit before. The sun on your skin will feel warm and energizing, and the sky will suddenly appear more vividly blue. Local walks will feel like special field trips as you discover your neighbourhood and find joy in small interactions with friendly faces in your community.

What's more, as the world around you becomes increasingly uncertain, on the other hand you'll grow increasingly clear on what matters most in your life.

You'll feel deep gratitude for your health and movement and the ability to run, stretch and occasionally dance in your living room.

Despite being physically isolated, you'll think often of the people who matter most in your life, and find you actually connect with them more often than you did before.

You'll recognize your home as a safe, comfortable space which you share with a strong and loving partner. This in itself is an invaluable privilege in these times.

Remember, it's OK to grieve your pre-COVID self. She was really happy and ignorantly blissful of what 2020 would bring with it.

If you know me at all, I’m sure you’d agree that I’m a generally bubbly, outgoing, optimistic and “glass half full” kind of person. When I first started experiencing my bursts of homesickness about 4 or 5 months after moving to Melbourne, I had a really hard time accepting that it was happening to me at all; I couldn’t even bring myself to say the word aloud (hence the “h word”). You’re too strong for this, I thought, this isn’t you. Homesickness isn’t a real thing, it’s for college kids who move away from mommy and daddy for the first time and can’t handle it. Australia isn’t that different to Canada, everyone speaks English here, it’s not like you moved somewhere with a vastly different culture… the excuses (and denial) went on and on.

The funny thing about homesickness is that it comes and goes as it pleases, often with little or no warning. It wasn’t the big triggers that surprised me, like missing weddings and funerals back home or feeling sad at Christmas and Easter. It was all the little, mundane things that threw me off. I could be having a perfectly normal day, catching the train to work, grabbing a coffee, chatting with colleagues, and then all of a sudden a comment or occurrence would send me tumbling down. A coworker would mention she was going shopping with her sister, or someone would say they were catching up with their best friend for lunch. The connection on my skype call with a friend back home would cut out mid-conversation, or I’d miscalculate timezones and realize it was too late to call my family. I’d log onto Facebook and see a photo of my friends in Vancouver having a casual beach barbeque together. And then the next thing I’d know, I’d go from being a regular, functioning human being to planting myself face down into the couch, ugly crying, stuffing my face with kettle chips while cursing myself for ever deciding to leave my glorious, perfect, happy, comfortable life back home.

Homesickness brought out a side of me that I hadn’t been familiar with before. Emotions which I’d rarely experienced were now consuming me on a daily basis:

Guilt. This was a massive one for me, which I have now started to get under control but still struggle with to this day. Guilt of leaving my family, guilt of moving to the furthest end of the globe, guilt of not being in touch with my friends often enough, guilt of missing out on important events which I would have absolutely made a priority if I were back home (weddings, babies being born, funerals, birthdays, break-ups etc.), and just generally feeling like a “shit person” all the time for not being there for my loved ones.

Envy. I didn’t have much to be envious about when I lived in Vancouver. Having grown up there my whole life, I was surrounded by loving family and friends, I had a great set-up in my favourite neighbourhood, I had my hobbies and local spots, I always had events on and I was building my career. Apparently, when you leave that all behind and show up in a new city with a suitcase and a few boxes to your name, you suffer a loss of identity and therefore start comparing yourself to others around you who seem to “have it all”. I was envious of people who could spend face time with their friends and families; who had jobs they loved; and who appeared to have everything together while I felt as though I was starting from scratch.

Insecurity. This really feeds off my last point: with the loss of identity came a wave of insecurity. As someone who had always prided myself on my confidence and knowing “who I was”, I suddenly felt like a hot mess who was floating along with very little stability or certainty of how things were going to play out. I started questioning myself, my worth, and my ability. I had lost all my routines and felt so far removed from the places and people who defined me back home.

I hit my “low point” of homesickness towards the end of November last year (around my 9-month mark). My parents had just left after a 2-week visit, and as I saw them off in their Uber heading to the airport I suddenly broke out into intense crying, like a kid who’s just been told that Christmas has been canceled. As I came back into the house, Trent told me I should stay home from work because I was too fragile, but since I had been out of the office so much with my parents in town I decided to head in. I had an especially bad day, and after an altercation with a colleague pushed me over the edge, I found myself at my lowest point: quietly crying through the face hole of a massage bed on my lunch break, then trying to play it off as “allergies” when the therapist asked me if I was OK.

That was the day I decided things needed to change. Which leads me to the 3 most positive things that have gotten me to where I am today:

Environment. After I realized I was in a toxic work environment, I quit my job and accepted a new role last January which seemed to actually align with my core values. Thank god I did, as this was the best career move I’ve made to date. Now that I am working alongside a team who basically act as my daily cheerleaders, I am more secure than ever in my abilities and am constantly surrounded by positivity. Also, after an (especially long) Melbourne winter came to an end, I found myself really embracing the city and everything it has to offer (it’s pretty freakin awesome, by the way).

Network. Trent, the veteran of living abroad, gave me a really simple yet true piece of advice during those early homesick days: Remember that new friends will become good friends. This has absolutely been the case. Over time, the new people I’ve met have slowly become some of my closest friends who I now can’t imagine living without. I know we’ve crossed this line because they can come over in their trakkies (sweatpants), order UberEats, drink wine and talk shit with me. These are the best kind of people. They are also the kind who spoil me on my birthday, plan hen’s (bachlorette) nights for me, check in on me when they know I’m going through something, celebrate my wins and are overall “legends” as the Aussies would say. Thanks guys - you know who you are.

Gratitude. Now that the craziness of the move has subsided and I have both feet planted firmly on the ground, I am actively trying to practice gratitude for all of the amazing things in my life. The opportunity to immigrate across the globe with my favourite human in the world, to build a new life together and start our next chapter here is a pretty awesome thing. Despite the bouts of homesickness and the discomfort I initially experienced, I’m so glad we made the move as it’s been the toughest yet most fulfilling decision I’ve ever made. The ability to re-invent myself and curate my life with people who bring value; to build my career in a bigger city which offers more opportunities for growth; to discover a new country and culture; and to learn more about myself, for better and for worse, with every passing day.

I immediately felt my face flush, and like the naughty kid who hasn’t finished their homework I awkwardly stumbled to find an acceptable answer. She followed this by saying: “You write to connect with others, and you like to share your thoughts on the world and topics like gratitude. You feel fulfilled when you are making an impact through your writing, so make sure you find the time to write again.”

Maybe this was the kick I needed, as it’s got me thinking about why I haven’t written on this blog since I moved to Australia last March (can you believe it’s been over a year?!). To be honest, there were several times when I really, really wanted to. But although the intention was there, I couldn’t quite sort through my thoughts with enough clarity to share them publicly. All my energy was focused on putting one foot in front of the other, trying not to trip during a period of extreme change and adaptation like I’d never experienced before.

In order to keep sane, I have been writing privately off and on over the past 15 months. Here is a snippet I wrote on March 8th of this year (marking my first year anniversary in Melbourne):

“Funny how life hits you, just sweeps you along, your toes barely grazing the ground as you are catapulted forward.

Sometimes we manage to grab hold of the rails and slow ourselves down long enough to take a full look around and let it all sink in.

This has not been the case for me. 

At all.

2016 was definitely a year of reinvention; a somewhat tumultuous ride, with change after change smacking me in the face at an unforgiving rate.

To think that in one year, I:

- Packed up my entire life back home - Moved to one of the furthest places possible - Started 2 new jobs - Found an apartment and filled it from scratch - Adapted to a new city and culture - Made a new network of friends - Joined a netball team (WTF is netball?) - Planned a wedding and went to Bali twice to scope out venues - Somehow fit in trips to Japan and Europe (UK, France, Croatia and Ireland) - Hosted my parents in my new home after not seeing them for 8 months - Experienced “homesickness” for the first time

...the list goes on and on, but you get it.”

I am now finally in a place where I feel as though I have both feet (somewhat firmly) planted on the ground. Melbourne is not 100% home yet, but Vancouver is certainly feeling further and further away. New friends have become good friends; I’m in a job I absolutely love; my apartment is complete and the location couldn’t get any better; and Trent and I are stronger than ever, on track for our wedding less than 4 months away.

So, now that the dust has started to settle, it’s time to make space again for the activities I’ve been neglecting. I’m scheming up themes I’d like to cover here, so watch this space over the coming months.

Lately I’ve felt as though I have been going through a “break up” with Vancouver. You know all the mixed emotions you go through when you end a relationship with someone? First there is the uncertainty of whether it’s the right decision. You find yourself reminiscing on the good times, drunk with nostalgia as you struggle to let go. Then once you are ready to start moving on, a sense of mourning kicks in as you deal with feelings of sadness, frustration, and the fear of letting go. Eventually, you reach acceptance. And then suddenly, you’re just done, and you want it to be over. Like, stop calling me and texting me and messaging me on Facebook. We MUST part ways, so don’t make this harder than it needs to be. And ironically, your social media begins to flood with posts like THIS and THIS and you realize that you’ve been missing the signs all along, and that maybe you’re living in an unhealthy relationship and Vancouver doesn’t want me, anyways.

This breakup is especially unique, as I have been involved in the relationship for 28 years. The entirety of my life. Despite my travels throughout the globe, there was always a ticket home. Yes, I had a 3 month affair with Europe, a 2 month fling with Asia and the South Pacific, as well as other shorter trips along the way; but at the end of the day, my commitment to Vancouver was always strong. 

The funny thing is that 5 years ago, I was really excited to break up with Vancouver. I was at the stage where I found myself looking at one-way flights, bookmarking apartments and scheduling job board notifications to my e-mail. And I didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty about it.

Circumstances changed, and I didn’t pull the trigger. Fast forward to today, where I have really started building a life for myself; an adult life with the things, people, and activities I’ve chosen to fill it with. Somehow, 5 years later, it has been much, much harder for me to say goodbye.

Thankfully, I have survived the various stages of my “break up” with Vancouver. With mere days left until I’m on my one-way flight, I am finally truly excited for the adventures that lay ahead. My fears have subsided and have been replaced with optimism and gratitude for the opportunity to reinvent myself; which, let’s be honest, doesn’t happen every day. 

I plan to take all the advice others have given me, to truly “dive in” to my new city and not let the memory of home stunt my ability to settle in and make a new life for myself. I am no longer nervous about making friends, finding an apartment, or securing a good job.

My biggest fear now is that Vancouver won’t really ever feel like home again. I mean, it will always be my hometown, and I will sing its praises from the top of the mountains and speak with great pride when people ask me where I’m from. But once I get a taste of a vibrant, buzzing city which will hopefully embrace me as its own while providing me with new adventures every day - will Vancouver ever feel the same? 

So, Vancouver, it’s time to say goodbye. Thank you for providing me with a safe, beautiful, diverse home to grow up in. I would not be who I am today if it hadn’t been for you.

But, the time has come for me to go.

Let me start by saying that I am grateful to have people in my life that care enough to even bother asking the questions at all. I realize that there are exciting events happening in my life, and my family and friends simply want to share their enthusiasm and support. I don’t mean to sound like an asshole by complaining when people are curious to know more; it’s just that it’s already hard enough for me to put one foot in front of the other right now without stumbling into a frenzy, let alone answer the questions being flung at me every day. If it were just one or two big changes happening, I might be more composed; however, the next few months will involve moving countries, finding a new home, changing jobs in an unknown market, adapting to a different culture, creating a network of friends, and trying to make a new, big city feel like home; while, somehow in between, I’ll have to start planning a wedding which can logistically include family and friends that live on opposite ends of the globe (surprise, surprise - there aren’t exactly a multitude of “halfway” points between Canada and Australia).

The truth is: I don’t have the answers yet. This is both wonderfully exciting and terribly frightening, leading me to feel a mixture of blind-eyed enthusiasm coupled with bouts of anxiety. So often society instructs us to strive for answers and organize our lives into boxes, trying to convince ourselves that we are in full control of our futures. We write up 5 year plans, create goals and vision boards, and even curate pinterest accounts with all the places we plan to visit, dishes we’ll learn to cook, homes we hope to own and goods we are saving up to acquire. But what happens when we stop planning, and trust that everything will come together? Isn’t there less room for disappointment when the expectations aren’t set in stone?

For now, I have to be okay with the “I don’t know’s”. I’d like to believe that this doesn’t make me a flaky hippy or a poorly planned dreamer. I am simply doing my best to take life step by step, one moment at a time, day by day and task by task. The moment I try to answer all the questions at once, I risk spontaneously combusting into a billion pieces of uncertainty.

Amidst all of this change, I must say that as much as I am nervous about the unknown, one thing is for certain: I am far more fearful of complacency, which is obviously not in the works for my 2016. And when the thought of all the changes becomes too overwhelming, I refer to this simple yet powerful quote:

“If the future seems overwhelming, remember that it comes one moment at a time.”

As my life comes together more solidly and I am slowly checking off the traditional to-do list (get a good job; find a steady boyfriend; start saving up so I can “own stuff”), I find myself thinking about my friend and her exotic life and all the experiences I am probably missing out on. Because, you know...carpe diem...YOLO and stuff (are the kids still saying that?). 

Of course in your early 20′s, these feelings are absolutely normal and are commonly dealt with by getting the mandatory backpack-around-europe-or-south-east-asia trip out of the way. But as I sit here, just a few years shy of 30, the thought of buying a home and having a mortgage doesn't appeal to me in the slightest. The notion of having a baby and starting a family absolutely terrifies me. To be honest, I can’t even justify owning a dog; it’s enough of a challenge keeping my plants alive (the struggle is real). Basically, anything that “ties me down” is out the window; though, I suppose I should mention here that my boyfriend is exempt from this list. Lucky for me, I am with a partner that’s on the same page as me when it comes to travel, spending and overall lifestyle choices.

Now, this is where I begin to wonder: Am I eventually going to outgrow this anxiety around adulthood and settling down? If so, when? I’m doubtful I’ll get there by 30, but maybe 35, or 40? Will my ovaries suddenly yearn for offspring? Will owning a home become more enticing than spending my extra cash on traveling?

So, here is my attempt to explain myself:

Our generation prefers to spend money on experiences over possessions. There is even science to back this up. We can’t afford the same things our parents could; the American Dream is dying, so we’re finding happiness elsewhere. 

The grass is always greener. It’s normal to want what you don’t have. In this case, it’s easy to forget that even the most exotic lifestyles have their downsides. The truth is, my friend envies the fact that I don’t have to live out of a suitcase. She tells me stories of her colleagues who feel so empty inside without stability or loved ones around that they end up blowing all their cash on partying to try and fill the void. The familiar offers us effortless comfort, and there is something quietly beautiful about coming home to our own little worlds.

The damn internet. If I had to go to the library every time I wanted to research something new and find out what my options were, I doubt I’d be so restless. Ignorance truly is bliss, isn’t it? Plus, I wouldn’t have to be bombarded with drool-worthy photos clogging up my social media feeds.

My personality. I need to take some ownership for this. The desire to try new things and see new places has been a recurring theme throughout my entire life, so I doubt it’s going away anytime soon. I have no intentions of muffling my curiosity - I’m just learning to control it. 

Since my last post in 2012, I had somehow managed to suck myself into careers where I was feeling constantly stressed by the expectations I had set out for myself. I felt so heavy that even the thought of trying to form words about it felt like an exhausting endeavour that I couldn’t possibly take on. I’d often come home from work and want nothing other than to turn on the TV and zone out on the couch. I had become one of those zombies I feared; a workaholic that went through the motions from Monday to Friday while waiting for the weekend so that I could feel like somewhat of a human being again before going back to the grind.

So, why am I back? Since making a shift in my career last September, I’ve been given an opportunity to really embrace a true work-life balance and get back to focusing on other parts of life which I neglected in my past jobs. I’m feeling re-energized and am once again craving the creative outlets that I used to embrace during my student years. Writing of course was a big one - others included music and dance, which as of lately I’ve started to re-immerse myself in.

Looking back on what triggered these changes, I have to admit there were 2 main factors that enabled me to grow for the better.

The first factor was the 6 weeks I took to travel to Indonesia and the South Pacific.  I know we often look at our peers who go off traveling and think, “oh look, there they go, running away from life again”. We assume they’re just putting off their careers, refusing to face reality and the fact that responsibility awaits them upon their return home. I have to say that making the decision to put my life on hold was the best thing I could have done for myself at that point in time.

Before I left for my trip, I kept jumping from idea to idea, boy to boy and job to job. I was so overwhelmed with all the noise in my head about what I wanted to do and who I wanted to be. I was getting so frustrated because I didn’t feel as though I was making progress towards where I should be, and it was driving me into a numbness that I couldn’t seem to shake. My travels allowed me to disconnect completely from my life at home. Everyday I would wake up and by biggest concern was what I was going to eat for breakfast, or whether the ocean waves would be decent enough to surf in. I wasn’t defined by my job or my life back home; no one around me cared, so why should I?

While I was in Bali and living alone in my jungalow, there were a few days where I didn’t even bother to leave the property. I would lie in my 4-post bed for hours, stroll down to the river, explore nearby offering sites, write in my journal and sit and meditate in my own little hut. I had nowhere to be, no commitments whatsoever and no one to tell me otherwise. This was the first time I truly slowed down to this degree, and it brought with it the harsh awakening of realizing that all the noise in my head was self-induced. I had created so much unnecessary stress, resulting in endless pressure upon myself. Becoming aware of my actions was the first step to learning how to control them.

I believe this opportunity to remove myself from regular life and truly examine myself from “outside the box” was the main reason I came to terms with this reality; who knows how long it would have taken me if I had chosen to stay in the comforts of home? This is exemplified on the very last page of my journal from my travels: written in bold, black ink are the words "STOP SEARCHING. START LIVING.” The ability to truly live in the moment and not look ahead for greener pastures is a difficult skill to master, however I do believe it’s one worth working for.

The second factor that led to my grown-up life change was – yes, you guessed it - a boy. But not just any boy, my friends; this one’s different. Trust me.

Although the romantic part of our relationship is certainly a nice bonus, if you were to strip it all away and look at what he contributes to my life, it would be immeasurable. I’ve never met someone who understood me so quickly, and knew what to say and how to act to help make me a better person. He challenges me to really look at myself (whether I want to or not), and somehow manages to give me the space I need while still ensuring I never feel alone.

His sheer, genuine belief that “everything is going to be fine” has rubbed off on me, and I’ve suddenly found myself looking at the world though a brighter, more optimistic lens. His immunity to negative energy inspires me to let go of the little things, and his heart of gold reassures me that life should be about the relationships we build, not the objects we gather. Overall, he's helping me cross over from "kid" to "adult" while making sure I'm having fun along the way.

I have to admit, I really didn't know what to expect when I stepped on that plane at YVR. I've done a fair bit of traveling before, but this was the first time I'd be completely alone without any friends or family within reach if I needed them. I felt as though my trip would be a true test to prove whether all the traveling I'd done had paid off: Was I street smart enough to get around on my own? Could I problem solve if need be? Would I be able to meet people and avoid feeling lonely? Could I trust in my gut and brain to keep me out of trouble?

The one thing I promised myself before I left was that no matter what, I'd keep an open mind and avoid saying "no" to opportunities that arose (within reason, of course). I managed to stay true to this method throughout all of my travels, and I believe it was the main reason I experienced the most fulfilling trip of my life. When you're open to anyone and anything, you can never look back thinking "maybe I should have tried that", or "I wonder what would have happened if I had said yes?". Sure, there were a few situations which halfway through I decided to get out of - but ultimately, I believe I would have missed out on so many incredible experiences had I not established this goal in my mind.

Traveling by myself obviously led me to feel more inclined to meet people along the way. At first, I thought I'd want to make friends as more of a comfort in knowing I wasn't fully alone. After a few weeks, I realized that it wasn't so much the loneliness that scared me, but the fact that I was experiencing some of the most awe-inspiring moments of my life without anyone around. For the first time, I truly understood the notion of "what's the point of living if you have no one to share your life with?".  Part of me felt high off the thrill of my independence, while the other part of me felt empty with the thought of not having anyone by my side.

Despite having all my loved ones on the opposite end of the world, I was truly blessed to have met some amazing people along the way who helped fill that void. Although I've come to terms with the reality that I'm at home while they're scattered around the world, there is a sort of comfort in knowing I could simply call them up and say, "Hey, remember when we did this...?" I can honestly say that the locals and fellow tourists I met served as a reminder of how good humanity can be: even though we started as complete strangers, I have never experienced so much warmth and genuine good from others. Unlike home where I'm often too caught up in my day to really open up to new people around me, during my travels I quickly found myself feeling connected again and truly immersing myself in my environment. It was exhilarating to experience the differences between my life and those of the locals I met abroad who allowed me into their world; I felt so humbled and inspired to learn about their lives while reflecting upon my own and all the blessings I take for granted.

I could go on and on about all the reasons I firmly believe everyone should travel alone at least once in their lives, but seeing as this is a blog post and not a novel, I'll leave you with an excerpt from a journal entry I wrote. If you've been toying with the idea of traveling alone, I encourage you to work up the courage and go for it - you never know what you'll learn along the way.

May 16, 2012 - 3:04pm - Sydney - "Harmony Park" 

A few weeks ago, I was updating a friend on my uncertainty in life: what do I want to do? Where do I want to go? And most importantly, who do I want to be? I explained how it's the first time in life I felt so uncertain about my next step, and how I so badly just wanted to "figure my shit out" and "get the ball rolling". 

He smiled and simply told me, "Desiree, you need to be patient. Patience is a great thing." Hmmm. Somehow, in my frenzy of self discovery and soul searching, I hadn't once thought to myself that maybe, just maybe, my main problem was that I was expecting all the pieces to seamlessly fall into place upon command. 

I've come to accept that we all have our own paths in life which happen at their own speed. As I browse through Facebook and see my friends from high school bragging about their wedding engagements, discussing new home renovations or posting photos of their babies (and ultrasounds?!), I realize that although at one point in our lives we were all at the same place, we've now adapted to our own paths. Our once parallel lives have become so different - we're all learning to grow individually and define our own worlds.

Although I'm still attempting to master the art of patience, I'm finally starting to trust that my path will take me to where I need to be. For now, I'm learning to be happy where I'm at, and to be truly grateful for all the amazing opportunities ahead of me.