8: The Process of Recalibrating
A Thank You to Portugal - And a Love Letter to Home.
Travelling is a powerful teacher, especially if you do it on your own. We learn to distinguish personal values from the ones we were shaped with growing up. We broaden our horizon by collecting enriching experiences and encounters. And we understand that in truth, it doesn’t really matter where we are – but how it changes the view.
For the last two years, I’ve had this vision of studying in a different country for a minimum of two years – for example, doing my Master’s degree somewhere else. A couple weeks ago, I made the difficult decision to step away from that idea, at least for now. That came as a shock to the people in my life, nobody saw that coming – and as weird as that may sound, I didn’t either. There is, although, a very plausible reason that simply made it impossible for me to follow through: I abandoned an old plan of moving abroad so I wouldn’t be forced to abandon myself, and the person I’m growing into.
This process of recalibrating, as I like to call it, has made me start wondering:
Was it really just Portugal? Or rather the fact that there, I didn’t doubt myself nearly as much as I tend to do when I’m home?
While I believe it’s a mixture of both, there seems to be so much truth in the latter. There’s a reason why being abroad for some time is so intriguing. While we’re out there, the rhythm is different. Less responsibilities, more room to explore and be curious. Navigating life in unfamiliar surroundings allows you to meet yourself in all honesty. You start realising who you are when nobody’s watching. Parts you might have subconsciously suppressed come up to the surface, and you begin to see yourself in an old, new light. You’re shedding layers that were never yours to begin with, and by that, you’re setting the tone for a new chapter – your most authentic one yet.
As we move along with the rhythm of the place we’re temporarily part of, we’re slowly growing more comfortable with our own personal values – and when we’re ready, we can integrate them.
That doesn’t go unnoticed, we realise it as it’s happening because we shift internally. It gets more peaceful there, less stirred up and the fear of missing out turns into quiet relief. We detect this new sense of arriving, not necessarily in a specific place, but within ourselves.
And sometimes, spending a couple months in a world different from our own is what’s needed to realise we’re already right where we belong.
As you’re preparing to leave the life you’ve built behind, you start seeing it with other eyes. Every moment you spend with the people you love feels more precious the closer you get to your planned departure. At one point, I noticed that I had started to count every cup of coffee, every walk, even the smallest, briefest moments shared, because I was hyper aware that soon they’d be a part of the past – and it made me feel devastated. That’s when the realisation finally hit.
We can, in fact, grow in every place, also the one we were raised in; as long as we’re open for it. Leaving for a while brings the benefit of the distance, which might make it easier to switch the perspective. But it’s certainly not the only possibility. Steadiness brings a new sense of depth, one that nomadic living hardly allows. Living out of a suitcase and swapping locations every couple of months forces us to restart at the surface, again and again. And letting people in becomes more difficult when you’re internally already preparing for the goodbye.
Growing roots in a place doesn’t hold us back from seeing the world and taking it in. It rather adds to our life by opening the door for the deepest, most transformative processes where exactly that steadiness is essential.
I carry a lot of Portugal with me wherever I go, but I no longer define it as such. I carry the openness and warmth of the people I met, the friendships I’ve felt so fortunate to gain, the ability to be present in the given moment, my love for adventure and a deep sense of gratitude for being gifted such an extraordinarily beautiful life full of incredible experiences.
Building a steadier life doesn’t mean we have to be done exploring the world – it means we’re honouring the balance of priorities. Creating the conditions to go with the flow; again, I know – but it’s simply so true.
Travelling on our own can be the key to coming home.
Carry-On:
If you were to write your own love letter to the place you call home, what would go in there? Maybe you even feel like writing one, and if you do – I’d love to read the parts you want to share.