Hey everyone, I have some bad news I'm afraid, and it sort of involves me talking from the heart a bit, so I really hope you don't judge me too harshly and hear what I have to say.
Firstly, I'm back home in Wiltshire.
Yes, crazy I know, but I'm afraid my brief stint abroad has born witness to what can only be described as a minor breakdown.
I've been lying to you all for the past 2 weeks, in that mine and Hannah's breakup hit me a lot harder than I let on. It was probably the single most unpleasant and depressing time of my life, (and anyone who knows anything about my past will realise the magnitude of that statement). I tried convincing myself that it was all for the best and that yes, I did indeed deserve better. Everyone told me the same thing, stating that it was for the best and that I'd have a great time travelling on my own. I believed that if I just buried my feelings and got on with it then I'd be able to get over it without the unpleasant task of actually mourning.
And so after I left the Hop Pole I busied myself, trying to distract myself from the fact that I was thoroughly depressed and missing the only real girlfriend I've ever had, (this lack of experience is probably what led me to react to everything so badly).
I'm not gonna get into details because this isn't very easy for me to state publically, but when I was abroad everything came to the surface. The weeks of burying my true feelings finally ended and in a hostel room on my own, I had repeated panic attacks, feelings of isolation and I must admit, the overwhelming sadness and depression that came with the fact that I was travelling on my own, during a journey that was always intended for myself and the woman I loved.
Before I continue I would like to state that it wasn't simply being alone and travelling that caused my return. I honestly think that in a better frame of mind I would still be there, and having the time of my life. Anyone who knows me will testify that I am a sociable person that loves having a good time.
Alas however, I could have been anywhere in the world, with the best weather and the best surroundings, and I would still have suffered the same feelings.
I am of course highly embarrassed at how this all panned out. I realise now that I should have waited before I went travelling, and I should have confronted my feelings head on, rather than bury my head in the sand and try and travel to escape my problems.
This ties in to my last blog post, why did I got travelling? In all honesty, to run away. To escape from the ex, depression, and the closure that was so sorely needed back in Bath.
I can state now for the record that these problems are impossible to escape.
I'm back home now with my Mum and Brother, and admit I should've come here straight away.
I plan on going travelling again, either on my own when I've finally gotten over feeling the way I do. Or with someone else, (any beautiful, rich, and caring young ladies can e-mail me for an application form).
Please don't think too badly of me, I tried my very hardest to make the best of it and concentrate on having fun. But this time it wasn't to be.
The only comparison I can think of is this; imagine being on your honeymoon, but no matter where you go or what you see, your other half is never there.
This is what I faced.
Most of you will think I'm a dopey sensitive sod who should've bought some hookers and got on with it. Some of you might even feel sorry for me.
No matter what you think however, I know in my heart I made the right choice. And I'm saving my money to do it again when the time is right, and my heart isn't quite so shattered.
Thanks for taking the time to read this far. I hope you all understand how difficult/embarrassing, writing something like this is.
C'est la vie.
When I first decided that I wanted to travel across Europe it must be said that perhaps I wasn't entirely sure of what I wanted to accomplish. When one doesn't know what they want to accomplish it makes it awfully hard to actually guage any sense of achivement, and so for weeks and weeks I have been trying to decide what it is I'm trying to do...
First and foremost I'm not trying to "find myself" or any other such clichés. If anything I think it would be more accurate to surmise that I'm trying to lose myself. And trying to lose something this bulky is far from easy, I'm far from a set of car keys down the back of the sofa that's for sure. My life in the UK has so far been fairly predictable, I have pretty much known months or at least weeks in advance what the future holds. For many this sense of routine and predictability is a comfort blanket, but for myself it's been a constant reminder of that huge thing niggling at the back of my mind. That being of course, the rest of the world.
I have never travelled a great deal, I've merely dabbled with school trips and boozy weekends. I always imagined I'd travel when the mysteries of life had become clear to me, and when I did I'd travel in the luxurious style of an Agatha Christie character. Of course I now realize that this was merely young naievity, and if you really want to travel and experience other cultures, you're as ready now as you'll ever be.
So here I am, currently sat on Britain's most uncomfortable train travelling at 90mph towards London. This will be my diary, probably just as much for my benefit as it is yours. In a few hours Ill be in Belgium, and fingers crossed, their trains aren't as shit.
From here on out nothing is predictable, and I love it.
I've made a 'Flickr' account to upload my photos to whilst away, I'll link the best one's on here of course.....
T
