Traveling alone is hard. Traveling alone with a history of mental illness can be hellish. There are days when all I want is to go home, sleep in my own bed, and hang out with friends who I know I won’t have to say goodbye to in a few days.
Unfortunately, I don’t know where home is anymore, and even if I did, I don’t think I’m ready to go there yet. I have things to undo, things to learn, ways in which I desperately need to grow. I need to learn to be okay with solitude and to take care of myself without relying too heavily on other people.
I have slept in 20 different beds since June 27.
