Sometimes, You Have to Stop Running

 

Sometimes, You Have to Stop Running

For years, I thought travel healed me.

Whenever life felt too heavy, I packed a bag.

A new place.
A different sky.
Long drives. Airports. Hotel rooms. Strange streets.
A few days where nobody knew what was going on inside my head.

And for those few days, I felt lighter.

But perhaps lighter is not the same as healed.

Because eventually, every trip ends.

The suitcase comes home.
The photographs become memories.
The clothes go back into the cupboard.

And there you are.

Back to the same home.
The same routines.
The same relationships.
The same questions you had quietly carried away with you.

Only now, you know something you didn't want to admit:

You cannot keep travelling away from yourself.

Some problems don't need another destination.

They need attention.

Some wounds don't need a change of scenery.

They need to be acknowledged.

And some chapters don't need to be escaped from.

They need to be lived through.

Perhaps this is what growing older has taught me.

There comes a point when you stop looking for healing outside yourself and begin sitting with the uncomfortable things inside.

The grief.
The disappointments.
The changes.
The things you cannot control.
The versions of yourself you have outgrown.

It isn't always pretty.

But it is honest.

I still love travelling. I probably always will.

But I no longer want every journey to be an escape from something.

I want to travel because I am curious.
Because I want to experience life.
Because somewhere, something beautiful is waiting to be seen.

And then I want to come home.

Not because my problems have disappeared.

But because I am learning not to abandon myself while facing them.

Travel should add to your life.

It should not become a way of postponing it.

Sometimes the journey you desperately need isn't to another country.

It's inward.

And honestly, that journey has been the longest one of my life.

— Juju