There are -at least- two Linas living in one body, and this becomes most apparent when it comes to traveling. I’ve been paying attention to these two versions of myself, trying to make sense of them and find a middle ground so they can both be equally satisfied, each on their own time, and it is a fascinating process. Each version has a voice and acts somewhat differently, something that makes the other rather anxious, or even frustrated at times. And here in the middle is me, a true victim of them both, reading through each Lina as honestly as possible, giving each one points where they deserve it, taking points back when they don’t.
(It’s always go-go-go until it’s time to stand-on-a-coconut-tree-against-the-sunset time)
I am excited for my travel plans, however, it is almost a rule of the past that the Lina who plans all the travel details is more eager to do/see/experience things than the Lina who actually gets to travel. “There’s so much to do, and so little time!”, says the first one, and the second one just wants to take it all in a slower pace, one at a time. It is fun being the one noticing the differences between these two versions of myself, but right now, combining both of their views feels almost impossible.
As an only child I’ve never really felt loneliness in my life, and being alone comes way easier than being in a big crowd. It is only when I travel solo that the feeling bites me, never too hard, just a little reminder of the missing comforts of home. And even then it’s not difficult to understand where this feeling comes from and help my heart remember that I’m not truly ever alone, I have been proven as absolutely trustworthy when it comes to my emotions and judgment, and I can make a different choice whenever I desire. As a child I’ve been abandoned, and I’ve made peace with this, and it is no longer true; however, feeling abandoned is an emotion I need to protect myself from so as not to allow it to take over, and instead, to allow it to bring understanding, and healing. One part of me wants to never taste that again, and all the other part wants is to embrace and soothe it.
(Who’s the prickliest of them all? Measuring my defense system against nature at the Incahuasi Island, Salar de Uyuni, Bolivia.)
Loneliness is a gift I love offering myself often. Whether it is just a short, quiet morning, or a three-month long journey, I need this time for my sanity. It gives me a better perspective of my two sides’ thoughts, their process, my wants and where they stem from; it keeps me grounded. I am not talking about meditation – although this practice has its own time and purpose, it’s all about moving and feeling and knowing my own being as it is, whole. Sometimes it becomes difficult for an introvert like me, a person who carries trauma like the next person, to know what I need. Loneliness not only allows me to appreciate the things I miss, it allows space for them to materialize. The versions of my past, my future and my present, they all combine when I’m alone. That’s when their voices make the most sense, and I can trust myself again to truly know where I am heading.