I had two months until I left New Zealand, my hometown that had become so alien to me. I felt like a foreigner in my own country.
I was different now.
India and Nepal had changed me and I struggled to find myself back here again.
As if being suspended in time and space, I asked myself what is this feeling of this nothingness?
Stuck in between memories of the past and a hopeful future, how was I going to navigate through this empty space of in between? I didn’t want to just wait and let time pass. Somehow I needed to live. But in the empty spaces, old memories resurfaced, the pain body was being triggered and ghosts of my past were coming back to haunt me.
I had stopped for a while. No more travelling, everything was at a standstill. I felt a deep sense of separation. And a deep sense of loneliness. I had come so far, yet I was still battling my own demons. Everything on the surface looked great. Plans were in place for a wonderful new life. But I didn’t want to run away anymore. I didn’t even know what I was running from. But for now, I couldn’t run. And I was faced with this nothingness.
What to do with myself?
With no exciting stories to share. No miraculous aha moments. No amazing photos. No inspiring quotes or songs.
An ordinary person staying in an ordinary little country, much like 1 year ago before my life changed. It was the calm before the storm and although it didn’t appear much was happening on the surface, I was growing inside, making room and space for something entirely new.
I had become friends with the winds of change. I used to try resist, but I learnt to flow with it, sometimes with my eyes shut and clutching like hell to the only security I had left, but eventually I learnt to let go. After all, resisting was getting too tiresome.
Now I was left with this nothingness.
No stories to tell.
Just floating in time and space, waiting for the winds of change to blow me in a new direction.
My pain was resurfacing. I felt empty and alone. And I missed my family. I sat and watched as the world went by as usual. I watched as the pain resurfaced. I watched as the old familiar feelings of aloneness appeared. I watched and I waited. I knew that wasn’t who I was. My pain did not define me. My past did not define me. My family did not define me.
I was at an important crossroad in my life and I now had the opportunity to rewrite my destiny. I wasn’t the small voice that yelled out in fear in the background. I wasn’t the voice of reason offering all the shoulds and shouldn’ts. I wasn’t the doubt and indecision that plagued me in my past. I was discovering parts of myself that were entirely new to me. Like meeting a stranger for the first time, I was mixed with apprehension and excitement.
Who is this new person inside of me?
I knew I couldn’t go back. I couldn’t go back to my old life. To the old me. I was at the point of no return. And I was having to get to know this new person who had arisen from inside of me.
Pain continued to surface, and I continued to watch.
From where was it all coming from?
With no distractions, I let it all be. I accepted what was. And I knew everything was going to be okay. I forgave the people who hurt me in my past. I forgave myself for holding onto the pain for so long. I cried tears of forgiveness and I let it all go.
I watched as the days turned into night and the weeks turned into months. The four white walls stayed the same. Everything looked the same. Nothing changed. Nobody to see. Nothing to do. Nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide.
Suspended in time and space, floating free.
Waiting to leave.