On airtrain at JFK in NYC, arriving home yet again!
I’ve lived and worked on 3 continents and have traveled to over 40 countries usually on my own. Each time I leave, I think that I won’t have reverse culture shock. And for the most part, I don’t for the FIRST WEEK. But then “the dumps” set in, I don’t want to leave the house, I don’t want to go out with friends, I have no passion for the things I used to be passionate about and even saw a therapist for a while to whine about why I couldn’t stand NOT traveling. There should be a DIAGNOSIS of “travel addict” and that travel for us is life’s elixir and nourishment, and without this necessary “drug”, we go down. And once down, even after a couple of weeks, we’re ready to leave again! Get me out of this alien place!!!
I’ve tried all types of remedies, ie. Skyping friends that “understand” me, exercise, running races, giving myself little goals, though nothing ever compares with travel and I’ve finally come to terms with the fact that I NEED this in my life and I may never be the proverbial “normal”. This is who I am and I know what I want and need, and there is a certain comfort in knowing thyself, knowing that you might not be in your own milieu and that it’s NOT necessarily YOU that’s causing these depressive thoughts, it’s your environment—-or lack there of—your proper environment.
My favorite place in the world is on a PLANE! I can’t tell you how exhilarated I get knowing that I’m my way to see some place new. The drug.
Travel addicts are “OUR” normal and don’t let anyone tell us otherwise, just like someone is a die-hart Yankees fan and can’t miss a game, we don’t want to miss our plane!
