Travel addiction – why do you travel so much?

“Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you’ve imagined.” – Thoreau

I am a travel addict. Traveling is my addiction, my medication, my therapy. When I stay in Berlin for more then six weeks, my energy level drops rapidly and I know: it is time to get away again. Some of my friends do not understand, why I need traveling so much, why my mood is changing because of a lack of traveling. So, in this post, I write about my feelings for traveling and how traveling is changing my point of view towards life. I try to answer the question: Why do you travel so much?

Traveling to face my fear

I used to be a super fearful person. I did not dare traveling because of “my bad English skills” and because “anything bad could happen and no one would be there to safe me“. I allowed fear to stop me from doing what I wanted to do. And that is a very bad feeling. I lost my self-confidence and tried not to think about it. But at some point, I just took the risk. And faced my fear. And never regret it ever. Since then, whenever I travel, I face my fear. Every time. I travel solo most of the time, I hitchhike, I use couchsurfing I jump out of an airplane, I eat scorpions and worms. I really like to connect with my fear, to find it in myself, to feel it in my body and – to overcome it. To challenge myself and to grow. So maybe, that is, why I need to travel. To find and to face my inner fear. Over and over again. To prove myself that I can do it. That I am not the little girl anymore. That I do not be afraid of dreaming big. To force myself to connect with all the unpleasant emotions and to deal with it. And when I come back to my daily life, all the little problems seem easy and doable.

The very special moment before a journey starts

Traveling to me is like being in love. Butterflies in your stomach. You smile when you think about it. Everything is more intense. You feel hot between your legs. But its not a girl that makes you getting wet. It is the travel spirit.

9pm, check it done, phone charged. 3 alarms are set, just in case. One more night until I am gonna step into the plane towards Portugal.  Lisboa by Wendy Nazare in my ears, an appel tree in front  of my window. Traveling starts when I pack my backpack. I fall back into myself. Into the traveler, the dreamer, the writer. Happiness about the memories, looking forward to the future and enjoying the moment. Wearing my red dress from Thailand. It is not a dress anymore, shrinked because I washed it too many times until it became a beloved shirt. A blanket from Indonesia. Necklace from Australia. Earrings from Tibet. Candle in a wine bottle. A present for the couchsurfer I am gonna meet. I don’t need anything else. Thongs and chucks. Enough to make me happy. A flight waiting for me. The day before is so special. Excitement mixed with anxiousness. Trusting. It will be good. It is traveling.  Butterflies flying around my head. I smile when I think about it the upcoming journey. Everything is more intense.

me and my stuff for the next 10 days

Getting out of everything. Out of work, appointments, daily routine. It gives me all the energy back. I become the person I want to be. Whenever I fly or ride home, even after just 5 or 10 days, it takes a few days for me to get back into my live again. Coming home is tough, always. But when I am back, something changed. I changed. love my base again, I look forward to work. Proved myself again that dreams can become true if you just go for it.

What´s your reason to travel so much?

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