Wanderlust

Ever since I was brought into this world, I’ve been a fidgeter. I was born weeks early; couldn't even reach full term in my Mother's womb.A young girl, always chastised for having “ants in her pants”. Sometimes, I am at peace and still, particularly when I have a good book in front of me. But those moments seem fleeting, compared to the moments of discomfort in being in one place, doing one thing… I have a busy mind, and a body which doesn’t like to sit for too long. I get stiff; mentally and physically. I feel uncomfortable, uneasy. I am one to rather switch up between chores or things to do, than sit or stay with a job until it is done. I go from hobby to hobby; read a little bit, write a little bit, chat a little bit. I find myself easily distracted; trying to be in the moment, or focus on something... yet, my mind wanders away. Or mentally I'm ready to buckle down and work through something, and my foot is tap tap tapping away, or my hand is twisting at my hair, or I can't find a comfortable position to stay in. I pace, I sit on the floor, feet up the wall, lying down, legs crossed, legs straight out front... I find being still extremely difficult. I always have.

I was the child that took on too many extra curricular activities. I wanted to do it all: touch football, netball, athletics, ballet, then other dance styles... choir, private singing, private drama, dance troupe, violin, rock band, debating, the school musical, the school play. Plus I was studious and I wanted to get good grades. No, not good grades. Great grades.

This pressure to do it all didn't come from anywhere exterior: my parents, how I pity them now, and all of the effort they must have gone to, rushing from one activity to the next. I really value the dedication they had to me finding my passions in my life, and for them putting up with the crazy experience it must have been. Not everyone is so lucky, to come from a family that is so willing to help you find your joy, that they will bend over backwards to help you.

No, the pressure came all from within. I've always wanted to just be able to do a lot, or as close to everything as possible. I've liked many things, taken interest in many things... and I've wanted to be rather well qualified at all of them. Since then, my passion for some of those has diminished, but (I'm sure you saw this coming) other passions have come up in their places. A friend of my parents said the other day "Wow, Chelsea, you are so accomplished. You're doing this and that and this too, all while living away from home from a young age. You should be SO proud of yourself, and your achievements." I said thank-you, but deep down, I didn't really agree with her. I had nothing to be proud of.

I have always put so much pressure on myself, and I know this to be true. Alas, I can't help it. I never feel accomplished. I never feel talented, or successful, or like I have a reason to be proud of myself. I never feel worthy of praise; I push it away, shrug it off, put it on someone else. I'm not often happy with my achievements.

I'm 23 this year, and like many young people, I have no idea what I'm doing. I've done some things, sure. I've experienced a lot for my age, perhaps. I've grown a bit. But I'm almost entirely as unsure as I was when I was 16. And, when I was that young, I was so looking forward to this part of my life; the part where I knew what I was doing, was sure of doing it and was taking the necessary steps to do it.

I've studied and I've lived independently and those were things I wanted to do. But is that what I'm meant to do? Is this where I am meant to be? What is my purpose? It is absolutely frightening to admit that I have no idea, and I might never ever know.

It is a harsh reality, one we must face day to day, that we are just trying to figure it all out for our whole lives. That there is no concrete answer. Which is somewhat a relief, because that means that there cannot possibly be a right or a wrong. And yet, some things or ideas feel so wrong to me. For instance, I would never want to be a Butcher. I don't think I'd ever like to be a taxidermist. These are things that, when I imagine myself doing them, I feel sad or out of place. Some things feel right, for the most part. But then, if I don't succeed or I fail, even just once, I feel like maybe I'm wasting my time...

So, every now and again, I decide it's time to get out of my own head, out of my own house, out of my own city in my own country. Out of the familiar, and throw myself in the deep end. Go overseas.

I don't much like planes; air conditioning makes me feel somewhat off, the food I can never eat, turbulence churns my stomach and the whole idea of flying through the air actually terrifies me. But, it's the way to see the world, so I do it anyway.

You see, I love travelling. It suits me, as I can't sit still. I love to move around, and that's what travelling is about. I feel like in a past life, I may have been a gypsy; roaming from place to place constantly, running through forests and abandoned roads, with bare feet and long flowing skirts, with lots of bangles and beautiful luscious locks. Singing by firelight, sitting on a log under the stars. I can see myself there. That's what my soul would look like, if it were personified.

I can roam from place to place, country to country. I can see how the other people live in this big, beautiful world. I can step into the past, or the future, depending on where I am. Experience the old and the new. Hear the languages of our little universe. See wonderful sights, dip my toes in new oceans, sit under the same sun with different people surrounding me. I can feel a little lost, and I can be okay with that. Because I'm not in a place I know, doing the same things I always do. I have reason.

It also gives me space to breathe. When you travel, you see the world as it is. Vast. Exquisite. Different. Full of a terrifying amount of possibilities. It opens your heart and your eyes to that, all the reality that there is. All the reality we close ourselves off to every single day we wake up, roll out of bed and go to work. All the chances we don't see, and the lives we don't live. It really shows you what you have been missing.

And there's nothing wrong with working in a job you love, living in a place you love, doing things you love. But when you're a little lost, confused or just lacking inspiration, I find travelling really helps cure that. It brings a new freshness to your life, like a vase of flowers or a plant in your living room would. A dash of colour, life, and joy.

When you don't love what you're doing, and you are stuck, it can feel impossible. You will feel you're stuck forever. I find that is never the case. There is always a chance for change. There is always time to do something different. You do not have to settle for something unsatisfactory. You do not have to just deal with your life. It's a life. You need to feel alive. You need to be truly living it. Not just surviving.

Don't be afraid to explore new horizons, new opportunities and new things. Don't be afraid to jump on that plane and see the world. Don't be afraid to jump into your life and see your world.