Oh, The Places You'll Go! (Plus the Bang-ups, Hang-ups, and Slumps)

In the winter of 2007 I flew 10,000 miles around the world to escape - from myself.

London’s chaotic pace had given me a sense of incompleteness. A busy life, a demanding career and a fast-approaching thirtieth birthday all contributed to a sense of anxiety.

I had contemplated working abroad and the dream was fading like an old photograph. So, I pushed aside my fears and booked a one-way ticket to Sydney, Australia. I was leaving in 5 weeks.

Those remaining days filled quickly with departures; farewell parties soaked with drinks and emotion. At Heathrow Airport, I left family with tears streaming down my face, entering into an unknown adventure.

On arrival, it felt like the holiday of a lifetime condensed into a few magical days. But as the jet lag vanished and the glitter settled, it was just me for company. I felt an overwhelming sense of panic, realising this was not a vacation and I had no concrete plan. I knew no one and although the blank canvas should have been exciting, it terrified me.

Exploring the sprawling urban paradise, I felt like a lost child instead of liberated. I ambled along sandy beaches painfully self-conscious in my own pale skin. My younger sister Michelle, a long-serving and very tanned Sydneysider was absolutely amazing, introducing me to her many friends, showing me all the magical sights and sounds that Sydney had to offer and surrounding me with excitement and opportunity. But I felt completely and utterly lonely. At parties I felt unusually shy, gulping down drinks and trying to find something worthwhile to say. My comfort blanket had been sharply pulled off my shoulders and I shivered with the exposure.

My CV painted a picture of someone I used to be in London, but did not reward me with a job. It rained uncharacteristically and relentlessly. My cash reserve was diminishing but the distance from home seemed to get wider every day. Galleries and museums provided solitude but I was drowning in desolation.

The anxiety of being judged followed me like a shadow. I knew people would question how I could feel this way in such a captivating place. I was lucky to have such a beautifully packaged opportunity but I could not find the confidence to unwrap the ribbon. So I searched for an explanation.

The realisation was painful. I was so heavily weighed down with issues I could not swim to the surface to breathe. Years ago, I had chosen not to accept my university place, a decision I regretted. I felt inadequate amongst the high-flying graduates in my life. I compensated by pushing myself too hard, my life overflowing with people and activity with no room for self-reflection. Instead of celebrating achievements, I always felt I had not accomplished enough. These insecurities had boarded the plane with me as excess baggage.

I didn’t learn my lesson. Joining a local group, aptly named ‘Get a Life!', was an attempt to broaden my horizons. First, Book Club, but my fellow literature lovers were overbearing. I drank too much wine. I fought the urge to shout ‘I don’t even like Catch 22! I haven’t even finished it!’. I decided instead to Get a Life and excused myself to the bathroom and left. Quickly. Walking in the hammering rain, I rang home but my credit ran out. Sitting on the steps of the Opera House I sobbed, wet through to my knickers. I wanted to go home.

It got worse. A simple National Park trek turned Bear Grylls endurance test. I got lost and did not pass another person for 4 hours. My foot bled from an unexplained injury and my water ran out. As the sun set, I felt crippled by absolute fear. This time I had gone too far.

It was my epiphany. It was time to leave the destructive path I had chosen to follow for so long.

I changed. I found a flat and a job in the city. I rediscovered yoga and indulged my infatuation for fashion in markets and vintage boutiques. I explored, I made friends, and I laughed a lot. Life began to sparkle again like the sun shimmering on the ocean. I saw my surroundings in dazzling Technicolour.

One afternoon in a second hand bookshop, I stumbled across an advert for a creative writing course. On enrolling, something finally clicked. I had a place to release all the thoughts, good and bad that swam around my head. Words spilled onto my laptop screen and filled endless notebooks.

I quietened the incessant inner voice that told me I was not good enough and allowed myself to feel a sense of accomplishment. I concentrated on building a portfolio of life experiences rather than worrying about a lack of academic achievements. I finally found solace in writing.

Those remaining days filled quickly with departures; farewell parties soaked with drinks and emotion. One night, a friend gave me a Dr. Seuss book called ‘Oh, the Places You’ll Go!’. It struck me how accurately it reflected the journey I’d gone on; around the globe and in my head.

I returned to London changed, but not a finished article. There is still editing to do. As I learnt, you can be in the most remarkable place, but if you are living inside your head, you may as well be anywhere.

The experience has shaped me though, and made me realise what I have to do – stop regretting the past and start writing.

In moments of self-doubt I remember Dr. Seuss’ wise words. You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose.

Only I can decide where to go next.