I can make my own dreams come true... [Ladies of Hive #139]

... and knowing that makes me feel on top of the known world.

Few things rival travel in my list of current priorities. I wish I could remember why. I just know, whenever I thought about my life as it would be, it never involved me being here, in Romania. There was no malice attached to that thought. I'm not someone who hates her own home country, rather I want to travel despite of a deep love of home. Bucharest, as I've written in the past, has many wonderful places worth loving, not to mention wonderful people very dear to me.

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And yet, I always knew my place was on the road, as a young, teenage kid. I always thought, when I turn 18, I'm gonna travel the world.
Then, I turned 18, and I... didn't. I was in love. Suddenly, I wanted to stay here. And love created a perfect space for that deep, inane fear of leaving to nestle into my heart, and keep me grounded.
And then, I turned 19, and it didn't happen then, either. Mind you, I did go to Steemfest when I was 19, so that counts as a badass experience I cherish to this day.
When I was 20, I couldn't. I couldn't stomach the thought of being away from home for a few days for my birthday, let alone months at a time.

With each year that dragged by, I felt my dream slipping away from me. I felt fear and commodity chaining me down. I worried I'd settle down here somehow, with someone, and while that would've been lovely, it would've also meant a dream that died. Each year saw me a little less daring, and a little more with my eye to the ground. And then, the pandemic hit.

Lockdown. Funnily enough, I travelled more in 2020 than the two years previous. I just couldn't live with the idea of someone telling me where to be, or what I could do. Not in the name of a bullshit epidemic of fear-mongering and control. So 2020 saw me moving around in a bunch of places, and that was, in itself, a great joy. The joy of resisting, though not quite what I'd had in mind.

By the time the lockdown tyranny ended, I was 23, yet somehow bolder than I'd been at 18. Coming out of the past few years, I thought "you don't know what's promised". And much of my thinking process since early 2022 has been "what if this is my last chance to do it".

This time, I knew I wasn't gonna mess around. Simply because I knew now the stakes were real. That dreams really could be taken away. That you could be steered into a new reality, not of your making, and not one you wanted for yourself. But you could be put there forcibly, and without a moment's notice.

So when restrictions lifted, I thought fuck that. I remember having this very serious, very focused moment of realization:

This is the crossroads they told me about. This is where I decide if I'm gonna be someone who pursues their dreams, or waits for some mysterious third party to bring them into existence.

So I got on a plane. I left, and lived the next six months in various places around Europe. I traveled a lot. I lugged around a massive suitcase that made me question all my life choices. I found a way to deal with the loneliness, and the fear of being on your own in a foreign place. I met new people. I saw more than I could've imagined, before setting out.

When I saw this week's Ladies of Hive prompt,

Life is full of unfulfilled dreams but also of accomplished achievements that we had not dreamed of. Tell us about a dream-come-true that you never thought you would do in your life.

I knew at once what it was gonna be. Traveling has been, always, a dream for me, and one that could've very easily stayed a dream. I could've gone on the occasional city break or holiday and told myself I was a traveler. I might've, on good days, even believed it. Luckily, the pandemic came (I never thought I'd say that, believe me), and said "oh yeah?". It challenged me. It shook me out of a reverie, reminded me I only get this one shot. So I took it, and every day I wake up, and every day I woke up on the road, I thanked everything around me, from the Earthmother, to the skies, to the grit in my own heart, for pushing me out that door.

Would my life have been okay had I not left? Yeah, I reckon it would've been alright. But not the same, naturally, and in the end, I'm glad this is how it turned out. And every day that gratitude threatens to overwhelm me, I balance it with a deep sense of pride. Of knowing I owe that to myself. To my life choices that allowed me to undertake that kinda journey, on my own time and dime. And to those around me who were kind enough to encourage me, and keep me tethered to a home when I needed it.

As you may know, I'm back home now. Have been for some time,, and even as summer stretches wide, and publication date weighs ever nearer, I'm planning my next trip. Because now, I know that's how it's gonna be. I know, past all the fears and self-doubts, that that's the only answer that makes sense for my life right now. Nothing's determined yet, not even a destination, though I've several in mind. Not a date, though probably the second half of September. My best friend's graduating in September, so I'm gonna be here for that. Then after that, I'm gone. I don't even know for how long, but I hope that whatever is out there is on my side and allows me to go through with it.

Sometimes, I swear, I remember how lucky I am. To have made it. To be alive. And maybe I'm not the person I dreamed of being. But I'm pretty damn lucky to be who I am.