I have a dear friend, A, who has been traveling for the past few months. She unofficially left behind a very dysfunctional relationship, so I know that the trip was a way for her to reconnect with herself. But now she keeps putting off her return.
Every couple of weeks, I get an over-the-top e-mail from her, squeeing about some perfect guy that she's met, one that's "different" than the rest, one that might be "the one." Then a couple of weeks later, she'll send an over-the-top e-mail of frustration about how the whatever-ship has flatlined and that she can't figure out men.
Maybe this is her way of digging thru the wrongs to get to the right.
As a traveling kind of girl myself, I certainly understand the romanticized world of travel. Everyone you meet is new and exciting and how because you're removed from reality, you give yourself permission to act like a naive teenager again.
I get that.
But in this case, what I really think is going on is that my friend is afraid to come home. She's afraid to face her not-officially-over relationship, afraid that without a new guy stowed away in her carry-on, she'll fall back into a relationship she can't bear to let go of if she's alone. Maybe this is best; maybe it will eventually lead her to herself. But I can't help but fear that ultimately it is only leading her away from her self, leading her away from confronting the complexities, the good and the bad, of her reality.
So, this is all for you A. It's all the stuff I want to tell you on the phone, but can't. He will find you. Pure and simple.
Come home. At least to the U.S.
