Before, I had my travels to write about. But now? Day-to-day life seems so…I don’t know, average? I’ll never give up my hunger for travel nor traveling itself — it’s just been much harder now that I’m back in the States. I visited the Czech Republic in August of this year to attend my sister-in-law’s wedding. The reunion with my expat country was everything I’d hoped it’d be and more. Unsurprisingly, I was also a whole mess of emotions throughout my entire stay there. I experienced pure joy, longing, nostalgia, heartache, and nearly everything in-between. I’d almost, almost forgotten just how much I missed it. Then I exited the ever-familiar Prague airport and it all came flooding back. The metros, buses, and trams, the buzz of the city. This was home.
I subsequently cried on the bus (and most of the metro ride) to the train station where we departed for Kuba’s hometown. I remember wiping away tears behind my sunglasses and trying to act ‘casual’ with a 50-pound suitcase by my side as I eyed the fellow passengers with envy. For them, this commute was a seemingly mundane part of their everyday lives. An aspect, I soon realized, that was once part of mine too. All at once, I found myself as an outsider, a status I most certainly didn’t want to be. I felt the intense nostalgia and longing for my life back in Prague. The seeming mundaneness of it all. How thoughtlessly I’d taken it for granted. I’m not going to lie, returning to my expat country broke my heart a little. I, of course, have always missed it. I missed the people and the culture and my friends. But what I wasn’t prepared for was just how hard it’d hit me. And almost instantaneously, at that. As soon as I stepped on that damn bus from the airport and heard the familiar cadence of Czech booming through the loudspeaker, it was all over.
The past two years since moving back have been the hardest of my life. And I know that it maybe sounds dramatic or even a little cliché, but it’s also the truth. And it has nothing to do with my relationships or friendships and everything to do with me. Don’t get me wrong, there have also been a lot of highs. Marrying Kuba and becoming his wife has been such a privilege. I never truly thought I’d find someone who loved me so freely or supported me so wholly the way that my husband does. But I also never imagined just how much my mental health would decline after repatriating to the U.S. I’ve struggled with anxiety and depression on and off for about 6 years now, but not a lot could prepare me for the deep depression that would set in after returning stateside. A depression that I continue to claw my way out of nearly every day. Most days as of late, I find myself on the mend. But every so often, something will happen that’ll knock me right back to square one. But the thing is, I want to continue living. I need to continue living. There is so much more in this lifetime I ache to see and discover. I want to set foot on every continent. I want to bathe elephants at a rescue sanctuary in Thailand. I want to get a tattoo and go on a damn honeymoon with my husband. And although it can be so difficult to find your way out of that dark place sometimes, there really is so much to live for. This is a (slightly cliché…yes, another) sentiment that I try to remember when things get really hard. And even though my trip to the Czech Republic obviously brought a whole shitload of emotions along with it, it also reawakened a part of myself that I think depression took from me. That unshakeable part of me that craves perspective, sustenance, a profound hunger for the unknown. It also served as a reminder of just how exquisite and beautiful life can be when you’re fully immersed in the present moment…and how can I be anything but grateful for that?
