Undoing Elizabeth: Times Are A-Changing

Sampalco, Manila, Philippines

(photographed by Jordi)

It's February now. February 2015.

A new beginning, literally and figuratively.

January had been one of the most confusing and strange months during my trip, and because of this, I did not write.

I am afraid to write, to be truthful. I am afraid to confess my fears to you all. I am afraid to reveal the somber side of myself to you all. I am particularly afraid to show you that I am filled with far more questions than answers.

Until now.

Almost five months ago, I left home to give in to this soul-gnawing urge to see the world.

Five months. So many things have happened.

India. Nepal. Thailand. Myanmar. Laos. Vietnam. Cambodia. The Philippines. And now Malaysia.

At the beginning, I chose to follow my heart's desire because it was the only thing I knew what to do with my life. It was not easy to tell my mother that I will not follow the conventional path of life after graduation. It was not easy to watch others getting married, having babies, and starting careers while I was off living an entirely different life. It was not easy to wonder whether I was pulling a Peter Pan on life, avoiding launching myself into real life by traveling instead of working.

However, back then, I was determined to grant myself the permission of living out my dreams. I did not want to have regrets. I did not want to spend all my life wondering what it was like to follow my heart. I did not want to leave any question of my heart gone unanswered, any stone left without being turned over.

Traveling was the only answer my heart gave to me. It was the only thing I know I should do.

This determination was so strong that I had to make it happen.

So it happened...

Fast forward to now, at this very moment.

Times are a-changing.

At the beginning, this journey involved my friend. We spent nearly five months celebrating holidays, riding trains, sleeping in hotels, eating, and living together.

Eventually, as all the chapters must end at one point, we turned the page and a new chapter revealed that the time had come for us to leave each other's company and continue on with our journeys separately.

I am now a solo traveler.

Still no return date.

I still do not know when I will finish my journey. I still do not know where I would be at the end of this journey.

Although I've traveled alone before, this trip is different: I am not traveling with this kind of mindset of collecting stories, both good and bad, so I can return home chuckling at those memories and using them to start conversations.

Instead, I am going through both good and bad times with this wretched hyper-awareness of wondering how they would define me and what they are teaching me. Those times prove to be even more challenging because I find myself sometimes feeling lonely and exhausted from asking far more questions than finding answers.

I am also starting to feel a longing of finding a new home. A new life with a career to build and a place to plant dreams and watch them grow.

However, my heart doesn't ask me to return home to have a home. It is asking me to continue on, to march forward, until I find a place to call home.

It feels surreal. I feel afraid. In fact, I so want to allow myself be overwhelmed by fear so I would be paralyzed by it and thus give myself a reason to rescue myself by hurrying back home to my dear mother's arms.

But no. No!

I must push on. I must follow my heart. I must pat the head of this frightened little girl inside my head who is shrieking for comfort and march forward.

Something is coming for me. I am looking for it. I am getting closer.

I do not know where I am going. No fucking idea.

But I am starting to feel comfortable not knowing. Sometimes.

I am afraid, very afraid, yes. Very confused, too.

I am only glad I now have a new mantra: "Courage is when fear prays."*

I'm afraid, but I'm praying with all my soul.