I'm (not) Done

Exactly a year ago today, two words passed my lips that I could have never imagined myself saying, I'm done.

I was done meeting new, amazing, inspiring people to only say goodbye a few short days later.

I was done falling in love with a city, done being heartbroken when I left too soon, and done silently crying on planes (or trains, or taxis).

I was done packing and repacking my life into a 40 liter backpack every third day and trying to figure out how to do laundry in foreign languages.

I was done feeling entirely alone in a crowded city surrounded by millions of people. I was done eating meals alone in a cafe and making awkward eye contact with the waitress as she took the second place setting away.

I was just done with the whole traveling thing and everything about it.

I truly enjoyed the independence and self confidence that solo traveling gave me, but I was exhausted.

I couldn't fathom the thought of continuing to put myself out there to just continue to get my heart broken. Not in the romantic sense, but because I was leaving a city I fell in love with or amazing people I met or the food or the park I picnicked in with new friends or just simply because I fell in love with who I was when I was there. I just couldn't do it anymore.

I was done.

These two words came out of my mouth quicker than I realized what was happening, but it was true, I was done.

But it turns out I wasn't done. It wasn't even four months later when I was applying to Remote Year that I realized this. I was done going alone, but I wasn't done.

Just because I was done, didn't mean my passion for travel had gone. As cliche as it is, I have the travel bug and Remote Year has offered me the travel community I didn't realize I was missing the whole time.

I'm two weeks into Remote Year and I can say the following with full confidence:

I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be, doing the things I'm supposed to be doing, with the people I'm supposed to be doing them with.

And this is just the beginning, I'm not done.