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Published: August 26th 2009
London - 19°c
Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean in between one nap and another, and remembering to move my watch forward 5 hours, day 36 became day 37. As not really much of a sleeper anywhere other than a comfortable bed and even then sometimes struggling, I thankfully managed to sleep a fair bit on the flight home thanks in large part to the complete exhaustion that’s caught up with me after such an epic trip in so many ways. Mentally, physically, emotionally and psychologically, I’ve been on one of the largest journeys of my entire life both inside and out. And I guess when a person has been affected in so many ways like that, it’s only inevitable that extreme tiredness will occur, and sleep is soon to follow.
I’m pretty sure I didn’t make much good company for Danielle during our flight, but I think she understood that for one reason or another, it wasn’t going to be one big chat-fest from take off to landing, with neither of us particularly energetic or wanting to do anything other than chill-out, rest, relax and sleep. - Four of the biggest elements missing from our trip.
The flight back was both quick and smooth, coming in at just under 6 hours and with no turbulence the entire time. I think the only two times the seatbelt sign came on was for the take off and landing. - However since I slept most of the flight (with my seatbelt on just incase), I’m not the best person to take the word of when it comes to how disruptive or not our flight home was!
Landing was pretty uncomfortable. Owing to my severe cold, my ears popped so hard and painfully on the descent that at one stage I wondered if I’d ever hear properly again. Never in my life have I ever had such a painful experience when coming in to land, and it was hard not to weep from the excruciating pain from within my ears, and it wasn’t until later on in the day that my ears finally ‘popped’ clear again.
Once off of the plane and shivering in the baggage reclaim hall owing to the unfamiliarity of such a cool temperature after 5 and a half weeks of heat and humidity, Danielle and I picked up our cases and walked through customs (where there was thankfully nobody around to add up our spending and tax us on it!) and through the arrival gate. As I walked through, I spotted the beaming faces of my Mum, my sister, and her boyfriend, and as I saw them after 38 days apart, I felt a bit of a lump in my throat through the emotion of it all.
Danielle and I said our goodbyes and hugged each other, promising to remain in touch, before I went down the walkway and over to hug my family. Even at the age of 26, it still felt great to get a hug from my Mum. In 26 years we’ve never spent more than a fortnight apart, and seeing my family again reminded me once again of how whenever life’s ups and downs occur, family is the one remaining constant, and through good times and bad, it’s always a great feeling to come home to your family.
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Epilogue
It’s been several days now since I got home. Not only has it taken me this long to find the time to sit down and write my final entry owing to the massive list of things to catch up on after so long away (not least of all, sleep!), but I also wanted to have some time to reflect back on and think about the ways in which the trip has affected me and changed me as a person. Whilst so much of the trip was about seeing sights, meeting new and amazing people and discovering the delights of a different country, equally as much was about discovering things inside, evolving, changing, growing, developing as a person.
As someone who is often guilty of over-thinking, analysing and introspecting over things (and sometimes enjoying it too), over the 37 days I was away, because of the extremely hectic schedule, there really wasn’t the time for me to think too much about the things that were going on, the ways in which I was so radically different to what I could ever expect of myself, and how the excess baggage that I’ve been carrying around for so long was slowly and invisibly being left behind at each stop as the tour progressed.
When I left my life back home and headed out on my trip, so much was up in the air, and so much clung to me like heavy weights too. - Scars of the past, upsetting memories of a relationship gone wrong, lies that had been dealt to me like cards of supposed truths, self confidence that had become paper thin, anxiety that over-ruled, massive changes in my life that needed to occur but couldn’t because of psychological blocks, and most of all a broken heart that after a year still hadn’t mended even the first piece of itself.
Through rough and dark times I’d become a broken man, and as those closest to me would testify, I’d become someone barely recognisable from my former glory. Something as beautiful as ‘love’, had somehow turned into the cause of my inner demise, and the remnants of something once so euphoric and so pure, were poisoning me and causing me to self-destruct not only physically, but emotionally and mentally too.
Booking my trip was only the first of many crazy leaps of faith I’ve taken since, spurred on by a small flicker from a nearly extinguished candle of hope and belief. Once booked, and with very little time for concern or anxiety about the what’s, when’s and where’s, it almost felt like there became a very clear chain of events that needed to take place. Flights, hotels for before and after the Contiki tour, spending money, transportation, day passes to places to see, research into the stops on the tour. With little more than a month to go there wasn’t the time to panic or consider the possible negative impacts on someone slightly vulnerable embarking on such an adventure. Something inside knew that if I stuck to my eventual aims, it would be the right decision.
Fast forward to a month later and even as I was packing my case with the things I thought I’d need for several weeks away, the reality of the situation still wasn’t really taking shape, and everything I’d done in preparation both on paper and otherwise, all felt as though it was for someone else, not me.
It was only as Dad got my case out of the car as him and Mum dropped me at the airport hotel the night before my flight, that reality actually hit. Saying ‘Goodbye’ to them for several weeks meant saying ‘Hello’ to a new side of me. Admittedly as I tried to sleep in the hotel that night, there was a slight element of panic and fear that I might be pushing myself too far too soon, but once again as I awoke the next morning, schedule and agenda took over from panic and fear, and it became a case of either making sure I was in the right place at the right time, or not.
One of the largest obstacles, and perhaps the single-most one I was most afraid of facing, was meeting new people. Reading back on it, it sounds somewhat ridiculous to be conscious of an underlying confidence issue of meeting new people, and then booking yourself on a coach trip with 49 others! But like I say, after a year of being hurt and made to feel worthless by someone who once loved you, it’s very easy to begin to believe what you’re being told and lose confidence over who you are, and start to accept as true the notion that if one person feels this way about you, others surely will.
In some bizarre way, even though we’d been chatting online and getting to know one another ever since I booked the trip, I found it most hard meeting (Aussie) Michelle for the first time, than I did meeting the rest of the people on the tour bus. I guess because she was the first person I had arranged to meet, the anxiety of doing so was the greatest. But that first day and beyond, Michelle was amazing. We got on straight away and in that first 10-minutes of meeting in Hollywood to head out together to the baseball game, my heartbeat dropped from desperate sheer panic, to calm and collected, as though we’d known each other for years. Meeting everybody else after that was fine, as though I’d proven to myself that if I could do it once, I could do it 49 other times.
Before the Contiki part of my adventure had begun, I was so lucky to have spent my initial first week with the people I know I’ll remain great friends with for many years to come. Michelle, Marnee, Lauren and Joey, each of these girls included me and spent their time with me, and restored not only my faith in myself, but my self confidence too.
As my trip progressed, so too did my independence. I started to feel brave enough to see and do things on my own again. - The feeling that I needed someone, my former love by my side, to guide me and hold my hand, gradually dissipated and began to die. I started to take chances and sign up for things I’d never have dreamt of doing before. - A helicopter flight over the Grand Canyon and white water rafting along the Colorado River. Even nights out in bars and clubs was an achievement for me, having not been out like that since my break-up, not feeling confident enough to do so.
Some of the smaller things that perhaps others either took for granted or weren’t of particular great highlight to them, meant massive things to me. Sitting around the hotel rooms with lots of others from the tour, chatting, crying with laughter, and holding our sides because they ached from all the hilarity. In their way, these things perhaps meant more to me than anything else. Just bonding with people restored my faith, and made me feel good again.
Throughout my time away, amongst everything else I’ve experienced and learnt, seen and enjoyed, shared and conquered, I’ve come home with incredible memories and fantastic friends, who despite the physical distance remain close in my heart until the time arrives when we can hopefully meet up again.
But above all else, I’m back home with myself, a person I found along the way.
I dedicate this blog to Michelle, Marnee and Lauren, who collectively brought me out of the dark, and brought me back to life. I love you so much.
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marnsk
Marnee Krohn
Love you too Carl!!! Way to make me all teary - AGAIN! :') Seriously - Melbourne! NOW!!! =)