Airport farewells suck…

So what is this wordy stream of consciousness that I’m reading.

Firstly it’s from my perspective – it’s as honest as I can be but if you are in it and don’t like it, tough. This is my take.

Secondly, it’s therapy for me and hopefully entertainment or inspiration for you, depending on your circumstances.  Lets go for inspiration.

Blogs suck and travel blogs are indulgent but this one is designed to keep me sane and act as a diary and journal. It will document some of the steps I’m taking lately that will hopefully swing me around past another iceberg and reset my course through life. Or not. I don’t know if anything will happen but this is the story anyway.

But this isn’t going to be a story about a series of breakups and significant relationships that have brought me to my knees over the past few years, although its important you get some background, at the end of the day it doesn’t matter. My life is currently “Under Repair” on many levels.

There will be some swearing also depending on my mood. And not a lot of editing. I’ll use real names, because, well fuck it, this shit happened.

Ok, we are already well into this journey but here goes.

I seem to say goodbye a lot lately but it never gets any easier. My mum, my friends, my housemates, my daughter, my house, my “stuff” now all packed up in storage.

And airport farewells truly suck.

Saying goodbye to anyone you care about is hard, but airport farewells are the worst. My partner Jen and I broke up in May 2016 after an amazing one and a half years together; travelling the world, travelling through remote outback Australia and finally living the past 4 months in the beautiful Pacific Northwest near Olympia in Washington USA. Hiking, travelling, camping, the works. Then…she didn’t love me any more. Just like that. Well there was a little more to it but let’s not go there.

Seriously WTF?

After a few weeks of relationship atrophy, her needing “SPACE”, and me hitting the road for a week to “think about things” she told me that she wanted me to go home, she didn’t love me and that I wasn’t going to be apart of her future. BAM. Right between the eyes. Like a good puppy I left after a weeks futile attempt at winning her back and with a depression settling in like a dense fog bank at Sydney airport.

(Heres a tip – when a lady has made up her mind and said ‘Bye’, its usually means GOODBYE. Don’t be swayed by hope – just move on)

She dropped me at SEATAC airport on time to catch my flight home. It was not fun. I didn’t want to go and she didn’t want me to leave but thats what happens when a relationship takes you in different directions I guess. Hard choices and painful unnecessary goodbyes. It killed me and I was a little surprised to see that it wasn’t fun for her.

We talked a lot on the car ride there. Smalltalk really. Spent our last night together at her sisters place playing with the new baby. Then it was over. I shuffled through airport security in a daze, through the queues and cattle crushes. I didn’t realise she’d followed me, quietly, didn’t want to let me go. We’d never been more than an arms length from each other for almost 6 months straight. I went through the perspex X-ray machine and the door slid closed. I didn’t want to lose eye contact with her, couldn’t look away, just wanted to her to say “Stay…we can work it out”….but she didn’t. We just looked sadly at each other over the plastic security barriers as the security  screening process took me further and further away. I actually wondered if I’d break in half having to tear my gaze from her face, and I smiled and waved one last time. She smiled sadly back, then turned and walked away. I watched her go and disappear into the crowded airport.

And that was it. Over. Fuck.

I flew to Hawaii, head full of fog, wandered around like a lost puppy for two days amongst the GODDAMNED HAPPY honeymooners and then finally flew home. Australia. Sydney. Six hour drive to Dubbo. Yes Dubbo. Regional, Country. Flat. Wet. Winter. Nine days of rain and cold. Fuck. Fuck Fuckitty Fuck.

I sat out the back of my rented house, looked around helplessly at the Jen shaped hole in my life and my heart just shattered. I felt myself slowly disintegrate…fall apart. For a week. Then two.

After a good while I’d had enough of drinking myself stupid. Good friends from around the planet were supportive and caring and amazing. But at the end of the day it was me alone with my strong Old Fashioneds and my American Spirits cigarettes. And my busy self doubting, ever critical mind. There were a lot of thoughts and emotions going around but eventually one made it to the foreground.

Now what?

I remembered that I actually had a plan a little while back. Before.

Before “Take a year off, move to the U.S, marry Jen and live happily ever after”.

But now that wasn’t going to happen,  now what?

So my original sketchy concept became my Plan B. Ditch my rental house, buy a one way ticket to south east Asia , finish my Yoga Therapy Course, visit my friends in Europe, Thailand, travel, train, reinvent, rediscover.

How did I forget these things? It had been so important to me pre-Jen then everything had been put aside for the promise of a future in the US with this incredible woman. The relationship took over. But when that future vanished what exactly did I have left?

Well funnily enough through the pain and the panic I think I’ve a way to rediscover my life and maybe even my purpose. It took some time and I had to make some hard decisions, but this blog (God I hate that word it sounds so self indulgent) will be good therapy for me, part travel diary for my friends that hate Facebook, and maybe some people will find it mildly interesting along the way.

So – next step? Cutting loose my life in Australia, casting myself away into Asia and beyond, distilling and simplifying my life down to a backpack, a passport and a ukulele.

Hmmm. Interesting. Hopefully!




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