Hey, my lovely Readers!
After I have finished a wonderful series that is called ‘Love stories by female travellers‘ and published some posts that are referred to my every day, real life
I just realized how much you love them and an inspiring thought came to my mind (again??? too many inspiring thoughts… too many)
I decided I will concentrate on real travel stories on the blog, rather than publishing tons of itinerary (do I even have any?!) or only writing posts about what to do here and there. I won’t stop writing those kinds of posts totally, but this blog is a diary after all.
But Guys please really let me know what you would like to read on the blog, and I’ll deliver it to you.
But now, apart from everything, I would like to share with you some posts about a very sensitive topic of mine.
After I’ve already published some posts that belong to the ‘real talk’ category (I might open a new section for insanely long real talk posts), here comes a full series that I named ‘Travel for recovering‘ and here is the first post of this series: why do I travel for recovering?
Warning: this post contains so much – like so-so much – mushy speech… again. It is so emotional.
As I’m writing this post into my lovely, pink notebook, I’m sitting on the shore of the Black Lake in Zabljak, Montenegro, on my way to Albania.
I was crying 5 minutes ago. I’m alone. But it’s good. Physical activities and crying are the best ways to let your steam out. Combine them and you will feel better in a sec.
I think I should stop doing it in nature, I always have an “awakening moment” there. Or should I move to the middle of nowhere in the forest?
Before I continue, I would like to highlight: I’m fine. I really am.
I would just like to clarify it before telling more because after I published my “How not to behave after giving up your job for travelling” and “Why I’m not waiting for the huge life-changing moment anymore” posts I got a lot of messages. Tons of kind messages from you, my lovelies, where all of you assured me that you are there if I ever needed some help.
It’s insane! I appreciate it so much and I’m very grateful and happy to know that you are there for me and not only when I live my best times, but even when I feel down.
But the fact is that when I write about a thing it is not a current problem anymore because I have already solved it. So here is an issue that I have already solved and although it was a problem that I had been struggling with for a long time, I’m fine now. Writing about something is the final phase of the problem-solving and recovering process for me.
I do it because, by the time of posting it, I’m strong enough to speak about it, and have experienced enough to be ready to help some of you who might be fighting with the same issue.
I hope you don’t, anyway.
I’m glad we have cleared it up, so let’s grab some tissue and go ahead!
One more thing, before I share my story with you.
Let’s talk a little bit about how travel, especially solo travel can help you. Although there are some obvious reasons that I’ve already written about here in this post, solo travelling is when you can pay attention to your very own self, to your problems, to your needs and find solutions.
It doesn’t really matter whether you are in the neighbouring city or in the other part of the world. Being alone, wandering alone, and doing pretty much any kind of activities alone is a form of recreation.
Yes, you will meet awesome people wherever you are, and you will do things together,
you should have some time to be alone somewhere in a place that you don’t know! It helps you to organize your thoughts, to figure out what you really want to do and to set up your real priority.
The thing is that when we are at the well-known place, we tend to forget what is the thing that really matters to us. We feel somewhere deep inside in us that something is wrong, but can hardly find the reason, if we can do so at all. And it can be worse and worse until it finally devour us.
Let’s jump to the hard part (at least for me). Here is my story without any retouch.
I can’t remember where the point was where I started to lose control over myself and my life, so now I can’t start the story from the very beginning, but I know exactly where I hit rock bottom and what was my first thought after I woke up from my sweet dream that alcohol had given to me.
I was gazing at myself in the mirror and was wondering:
“Where is that beautiful, open-minded girl who is always smiling, who is always confident and kind and even more who could face everything that crossed her path easily. The girl who lives happily in fool’s paradise and forgets any kind of concerns. Why did she leave me? I want her back!“.
I really wanted her back, so not caring it was only 10 am, I headed to the shelf where a bottle of wine was waiting for me to open it.
Another seductive bottle that could give me back my sense of freedom and happiness.
I lifted it and with a strangely gentle motion, I threw it into the bin.
I did it because some moments of the previous (and another) night started to flashback. I did things that I shouldn’t have done. Things that I would never ever want to do again. I wanted to wake up from my ‘vindicative’ delirium.
Why did I start to drink? I couldn’t sleep. And alcohol helped me to sleep 4-5 hours a day. But as my body got used to a certain amount of alcohol I needed to drink more and more and more. And alcohol did not only help me to sleep but also to build my confidence.
At least when I was drunk. But while drunk Gabi was getting more and more confident, sober Gabi was getting worse and worse and my symptoms also renewed – symptoms, that I thought I could forget because I was ok – and were getting stronger again.
And I started to quarantine myself from people and real life. As a result, I was frightened of the presence of people. And their thoughts. If I was in the real life, I would know exactly: it’s just a silly fiction.
But I wasn’t there. I was in my darkest days. And it was getting worse when I quit.
It was pink and fluffy before the time that it turned into a cold and unfriendly ambience. I was friendly and very social before. And I wanted to get my real ‘me’ back. And alcohol helped me. But it was also a fiction and not the solution.
Do I wish that it had never ever happened to me? Definitely not!
Without this, I could never have recovered myself.
The only thing I am sorry for and sad about is that I used to hurt people around me. I did it because I was scared and I wasn’t happy where I was.
However I think that happiness is not a permanent thing, rather a thing like being hungry or tired, so it comes and goes, I shouldn’t have acted that way.
And I’m really sorry.
So I decided to find myself again somehow. I had to build myself up again to be a happy person.
I quit my job because it didn’t make me happy anymore.
I told all of my struggles, fears and problems to a person. I actually don’t know him very well and it would be a strong exaggeration to say that we are friends or such, but it seemed to be the safest to tell these things to an ‘unknown person’ who I couldn’t hurt.
Then I gathered all of my courage and called out the ‘tough girl’ part of mine and shared it with my family before I started my recovering trip.
And then I started my journey.
It is a long process, but since the very beginning, I have met some amazing people and learned their stories, which have lead me to open this section here. When I met them and were having some short but deep conversations, most of the time I didn’t say a thing. Only listened.
Listening to their stories helped me to realize two things:
- for other reasons and in different circumstances, we all fight with the same things after all and the rest just garnish;
- and we are not alone wherever we are, regardless of nationality, position, family status and so.
And I didn’t have anything to say. – rare moment…
Since the moment I turned the key and closed my home’s door, I have been waiting for the moment.
The moment when I find my answers, or at least my questions or something that can get me closer to… I really don’t know what.
Whatever it is I wanted it and looked for it. I was prepared with hundreds of tissues and waited for the moment similar to the last time when I got lost in the forest. I did everything to find this moment but to no avail.
These things don’t come just because you really want it, and – if I can rely on my very little experience – they always appear in different ways. While it was a specific moment the last time, now it is rather a process, and it has already started. Very slow and very long, but the self-destruction phase didn’t last for two days either.
Most of my real talk posts have a conclusion, but this is just the very beginning so I think it will have to wait.