“Travel far enough, you meet yourself.”
I decided a little while ago that it was time to pack up and go away for a while. It’s something I had always planned to do, but the last seven years has shot past in a blur of not enough money, not an impressive enough resume and feeling like I would be putting too many people out or letting them down by choosing that particular time to leave.
I also briefly put the plan aside in favour of buying property about 18 months ago. For a myriad of reasons the value of my savings has barely moved in that time. I’ve gone to Thailand for a wedding, had to move, there are a dozen things I have allowed to happen to ensure I’m not getting anywhere.
In the time since I’ve made my decision I’ve come ahead in leaps and bounds (not massive bounds, it’s only been a month).
The indefinite travel thing has always bubbled away at the back of my mind as something that is probably financially irresponsible to do, as something I ‘should do with a partner’, as something ‘I should have done in my early 20’s.’
Bugger it. I’m going to do it anyway.
Though it was only a few weeks ago, I’ve already forgotten the moment I moved from should to will. I talk a lot about doing things in the unspecified future (see: buying a house), so there was a considerable shift four or five weeks ago.
I’d had it. I was time for a plan. Something to work towards. Something to make me feel nervous.
What has been stopping me?
The major factor in deciding to go was actually putting my finger on why I hadn’t already left.
The vague answer was ‘money’. But it’s amazing how you can breakdown road blocks that exist in your own head once you get a little real with them.
Last time I did a decent stint overseas (more than three weeks) was 2009. Almost a month in China and then three in India. The trip to China was booked as a holiday with a friend. India was booked after being made redundant and writing off my car.
While traveling around India I met amazing people and was intoxicated with the idea of visiting them all in their home countries (Canada, England, Germany, France). I had the travel bug bad (as you do) and was never going home. I did go home. I got a job, a lease and a car (as you do again) and saving enough for another decent length adventure quickly slipped down the priority list.
I’ve had two full time jobs since then, the second of which finally feels like a proper listing on my CV. I’m no longer petrified about getting a decent job when I get home. I’m employable, I have contacts, I’ve learned where my strengths lie. Vastly different to leaving for India at 25 in the middle of the GFC after being made redundant.
Money, CV and buying a house are the three major sticking points. I’m saving like a mad woman. My resume and contacts are in order. I’ve had to have a good hard look at myself and admit that I’m just not prepared to go into $300k debt by myself. I just don’t think I could enjoy life with that hanging over my head, for what would be a pretty shitty apartment.
Once I said ‘I don’t want to buy a house’ out loud I was straight on the UK Government website looking up working Visa requirements. I’m eligible. I’m going.
In order to make damn sure I follow through I’ve done two things; I’ve started telling people (and apparently publishing it on the internet) and I’ve set a date.
May 1, 2015. I’m outta here