Why I Dropped Off Post Travel (The Wrap-Up Pt. 3)

black ceiling wall

Traveling has easily been one of the best decisions I’ve ever made for myself. It’s the craziest, coolest, most fool hardy thing I’ve done with my life to date. It was everything I had ever wanted and thought of and I finally just… did it. Obviously, I saw some really cool things and it changed my perspective in ways that I never thought were imaginable. It changed me in such a way that I felt as thought I lived several lifetimes in such a short span of time.

When I look back in life, I can honestly say that 2019 truly was my year.

I dealt with trauma. I faced my inner demons. I was catapulted out of my comfort zone. I saw so many new things. So many different ways of living. I saw strength and courage in myself that I didn’t know existed. I saw my savvy side. I saw a woman that I truly aspired to be and was proud of.

And at the end of it all, when I finally came to a place in Chicago with the help of my friends, I realized how fucking exhausted I was.

apartment bed carpet chair
“Don’t wake me unless it’s really fucking important. And even then, don’t.”

At first, I thought it was a dive into depression. After all, as awesome as travel was, it was a constant high-state level of excitement for me which can eventually lead to adrenal fatigue. Which in turn can lead to depression. I paced myself as well as I could along the way, but even in spite of my best effort, I needed a few solid weeks to just sleep and shut out the world. Including social media. Including this blog. Including my phone.


I wasn’t depressed. I knew what that felt like. I tried to place why I was suddenly disinterested, but then I thought back to something in my life.

When I was still an undergrad student, I met a monk.


He was a Hare Krishna devotee and traveled around spreading love and light where he went. I’m not the most religious person in the world, but I always had an admiration for that level of devotion. I asked him how he could do what he did and he told me that when the time is right, what no longer serves us drops off.

Suddenly, I found that all the things that I cared for so much in my comfort zone seemed way less important. Even in starting this blog, I thought that I would use it as a point to rocket myself to a place where I could work for a company like Buzzfeed or something along those lines.

Something to get the fuck out of where I was.

Upon doing the work and then going to NYC and actually seeing the office, I realized that while I love writing, it wasn’t the type of writing that I wanted to do on a consistent basis. During said undergrad days, I thought about going into journalism, but I did it in High School and realized why I stopped.

It was exhausting.

I’ve published here and there, I’ve given opinions about news, hot men, racism, a full gamut, but that struggle to stay relevant is super fucking real and I don’t know if I care enough to be in that struggle.

man in white shirt using macbook pro
“ANOTHER fucking revision?? UGGGGGGGGHHHHH”

It’s not to say I’ll stop writing. I love writing. I’ve always loved writing, but I think it’s time to reformat this thing and think about what I want to do with it. I’ve done enough work that I’ve met some unexpected people that I’m SUPER grateful for which has been a reward in and of itself. I really hope if nothing else it helps me meet more like-minded people.

Also, now that I’m in a completely different context, I feel less of a need to censor myself. Writing in a small town, people could easily find me to talk about what I wrote which could be both a pro and a con.

In a city, it’s easier to have some anonymity which is freeing in a way that I never could have imagined.

people on sidewalk selective focal photo
Where’s Kira? You’ll never know.

In fact, right before I left and had the thought that I never had to see anyone again from my hometown or find myself under a lens, I wrote something I was very proud of. Ironically enough, it’s also one of those most viewed things that I’ve posted here.

All that to say, I’m thinking very, very hard about what I want to put forward from here on out. I still love the fact that I was paid to write. I still want to do that, but I don’t really know what my writing goals are anymore. They felt so clear for a while, but leaving my home state and getting to a new place… I feel like a human etch-a-sketch that’s been thoroughly shaken to a clean slate.

I’m still me. I still have things I want to accomplish… but this was a huge check on my life list and has fulfilled me in a way I didn’t think it would.

But with checking off a huge goal, everything below it has been re-arranged and scrambled.

All that to say, I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing, but I’m happy to put the pieces together along the way.

I think in the future this blog is going to get a little more personal and intimate.

But I’m sure you don’t mind, do you?

woman biting red lips with nose pin
Vulnerability is HOT

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