I lay awake at night staring at the ceiling wondering if I am happy. Streetlights flutter on my ceiling every time a car drives past, or more often than not, there is another food delivery truck servicing the grocery store attached to my flat. I hear the men yell and grunt at one another as they unload. All the while, my ceiling flutters with flashing lights.
Is this my life? Why do I want more? When will enough truly be enough?
Everyone has a plan, a way they see their life working out. Successful career, house, married by 26 and kids at 28, join a book club and be happy. That’s what I thought I wanted. Instead I will be 25 this year, and all of those goals, all those years planning for that life just make my stomach churn in knots. How am I supposed to already own a house when I haven’t even finished law school yet? – And Marriage? Why does that sound more like a death sentence than an amazing milestone?
I turn 25 this year, a few weeks after that I graduate with a law degree, and a few weeks after that I am supposed to pack up my life in England, hand over the keys to my flat and move back to Canada to “grow up”.
– But, I don’t want to.
Is that so wrong? I want to live on a beach, and sleep in hammocks, where my only job is making sure everyone has a beer in their hand? I want to rent a bungalow in Cambodia and spend every evening eating at the night markets or watching the rain trickle down my windows in the wet season. I want to learn Spanish in Central America and get lost in the language. I want to get lost.
How can I even do that? Following my dreams would mean putting a law degree on hold or even just throwing it straight into the trash. While my friends talk about contributory negligence, law firms and interviews for summer legal internships, I get so stressed out I go straight on Easy Jet and book a flight to calm my nerves.
Getting lost seems to be the only way to find myself.
Why is everyone in such a rush to “grow up” and to know exactly what they will be doing every day for the rest of their lives? Is it so wrong to want to travel until I loose every toenail, scale every mountain, swim in every ocean and live on every single continent? How can that be so wrong?
“We are citizens of the world. The Tragedy of our times is that we do not know this”
Why is the biggest form of anxiety and stress in life that I cannot choose a country to put roots down? Why does this cause my body to react in skin irritations and mild forms of eczema? The doctor even said my body is holding up a white flag asking for surrender. I don’t want to choose. I want it all.
So for my 25th birthday, I choose all it. I will take my law degree, and not feel guilty for not becoming a lawyer right away, but take all of the skills with me and do what I love most in this world, be who I want to be, and live every day as a traveler.