How travel is taking over my life: Balancing wanderlust with everyday life.

Each time I step onto a plane, it feels like my life shifts a little more. With every flight, my soul seems to know that this is where I’m meant to be. It’s almost an addiction—I can’t seem to stop. I imagine it’s like what a drug addict feels, needing that next dose once the high fades. For me, as soon as I’m back home from one trip, I immediately need the prospect of another journey on the horizon just to feel that sense of happiness. Or maybe it’s just the anticipation that keeps me going?

I’ve flown so many times I’ve lost count (I’ll try to calculate it for my next post—I’m curious too!), but not once have I regretted boarding a plane, whether big or small. Each one has carried me toward countless adventures and memories. Even when I had what I’d call my worst holiday—Mallorca, 2006—it still didn’t matter because it took me away from Belgium. Not that I dislike my country, but there’s a sense of disconnect there. But that’s a story for another time.

My wanderlust can be overwhelming, and during my most recent trip just two weeks ago, I was so hooked on the thrill that I applied for a week off in January and even booked another getaway! Once I start planning, it’s hard to stop, which comes with its upsides and downsides. This year, I’ve spent so much on flights and stays that my bank account is practically pleading with me for mercy in my dreams! But at the same time, I live for the memories. As a single woman, those connections with new people, the meaningful conversations, and the depth of experience are what I crave. Each interaction helps me grow, and to me, that’s what life is all about. It’s not about wealth, fancy cars, or luxury items. It’s about discovering the world, meeting people, and making genuine connections.

Just two days after returning from this last trip, the idea of traveling for three whole months hit me like lightning. What if I spent that time exploring Spain or Portugal? But then, I know what the outcome would be—coming back would feel like a crash. My day-to-day life means working in a supermarket, helping customers find their items, and I know that’s not where my dreams lie. My boss knows it too.

Since turning 40, I’ve felt an even stronger pull to find true happiness and purpose. After a spiritual reset in Bali this year, something clicked, and I realized I need to let go of the person I think I’m supposed to be and let my true self emerge. Can anyone else relate? Do others feel this deep pull toward something more? If so, please share in the comments so I know I’m not alone.

Oh, and if you’d like to hear more about the “worst holiday ever,” let me know. Thanks for reading. Namasté. Photo: Tirta Empul, Bali, Indonesia 2024