think about the absence of something and how the shape it once filled & now leaves affects things. is it good? sad? bittersweet? write about it.
the absence of anxiety as travel becomes familiar
it was heavy, an unseen burden that I carried with me every time I drove, flew, went somewhere new
it never overwhelmed the reach for novelty. it never quite fit in as a blocker, though its presence was unmistakable.
it kept me in the hotel room, memories of the tones and colors of my home away from home. there were still memories of the place I went, but not as many as there might have been.
not as many as people think I create when I travel.
or at least that's what I thought.
traveling without increased anxiety about traveling means when I stay in my hotel room, it's not because I feel like I can't go out. it's because I prefer to stay in and rest.
the space the anxiety used to take has been replaced by my love of solitude. I'm still going places and building memories of the hotel room but I'm reading, drawing, reflecting, or learning too.
did I feel anxious about traveling, or was I insecure that I enjoyed spending time alone?