If you look at my posts on Instagram or on my blog, you might think I’m on vacation. In a way, that is certainly the case. I am in beautiful places outside of Germany. When I talked to my friend Fiona on the phone, she told me that’s not true. I’m not on vacation. If I were on vacation, I would be seeing all the sights that all the other backpackers have on their list. Sometimes I think I’m missing something. But I’m not missing anything. I went away to leave behind what I didn’t like in the past, and now I’m trying to find alternatives. I’m trying to figure out where and how I want to live in the future. I’m exploring what life concepts fit me. I’m looking for ways to finance that lifestyle. I am searching for myself and what I want.

Questions that are not easy to answer. Questions that are not entirely new either. When I look at my notes from many years ago. More travel and adventure, like the one in New Zealand, are at the top of my list. My hope is that one day I will know what I like and not just what I don’t like. The latter would still be better than nothing and at least an inexhaustible reservoir to explore. Life is ultimately a journey into itself. Standing still has never been a meaningful option for me. Sometimes I envy those who can find peace in being sedentary. I am different. I seek variety and always need new impulses. I am a jack of all trades.

What I have already realized is that I don’t put up with what I don’t like for so long. I have become more sensitive to excluding things that do not suit me and my ideas of life from my life instead of just questioning them but not taking action.

I am in a magical place right now in the middle of the jungle of Colombia. But especially on days when I don’t have my full mental energy, I question the whole journey (to myself). It takes constant energy to not let my cocoon protect me and to question my life so far. On those days, I feel lonely. Not because I am alone, but because I feel alone in my striving. It’s the uncertainty of not knowing what will happen next or if I’m making the right choices. The price of freedom seems to me to be self-doubt. A voice that gets a little louder, especially on weaker days, and secretly gnaws at me. It undermines my strength and resilience. I try not to give in to these feelings, but to let them get to me. I feel what I need to feel. If it were easy, it wouldn’t be called a comfort zone.

I am a tourist in an unknown land that no one has traveled before me. I am the only one who can travel it. Everyone has their own unknown, their own adventure outside of what is familiar and safe. I am happy about the fears I carry inside me. They signal to me that I am on the right path, off the beaten track. The journey to myself.