The Emptiness Before the Adventure

The emptiness before the adventure

I’ve read enough to know that growth and change sometimes come with a feeling of nothingness.

I’m sitting here on the lounge in my mum’s vacant house, feeling something I haven’t felt in years. A deep feeling of emptiness, a need for a job, a purpose, an adventure. Which is crazy, because I am about to embark on the biggest adventure of my life.

In silence, I ask myself: why do I feel this way?

Because I know this feeling won’t last.

I think I feel this way because a chapter of my life is coming to an end, and the feeling is very unfamiliar. Over the past few weeks, I’ve said "see you soon" to many friends, family, and animals. It has been hard and has gradually become harder as the goodbyes have become closer to my heart.  

Earlier this week I said goodbye to my best friend and the two horses, my favourites, whom she is taking care of for me. Then I said goodbye to my dog, Evie. This one was the saddest goodbye and almost a little bit silly, as Evie will be coming to Spain to live later this year.

I think saying goodbye to Evie has been so hard because of an entanglement of many factors, beyond just her; it is what she reminds me of. I chose to bring Evie with me everywhere after Bruce passed away. Bruce was my best kelpie friend; he was a great little sheepdog and my shadow for 4 years. I was devastated when I lost him earlier this year to 1080 fox bait.

But the loss started even before him. It started last July on my holiday to nomadic life in Mongolia. Then again in November, a fire of curiosity ignited within my soul when I visited Spain for the first time. Ever since July last year, my heart has felt torn between my love for the family farm, my family and the mystery of the unknown adventures which I could have if I walked away for a little while.

While a new me, one with a thirst for more adventure, began to come to life, I started losing and letting go of the me I was before. In November, during my first visit to Spain, I finally accepted letting go of someone I loved. Then Bruce passed away just before I went away to Spain in April. A few days prior to Bruce passing, I rehomed my old dog, “Danny”. I promised him I would have him forever, but when the perfect home came up, I knew that he would be better with an elderly gentleman who was home all the time and could give him more time than I could.

Saying goodbye to the two dogs who meant so much to me made me feel like my heart was bleeding out. But on reflection, my intuition tells me they were clearing space so I could explore a different path in life. If they were at home, I likely would never have chosen to spend 3 months in Spain when I visited in April, and I likely wouldn't be getting ready to fly out tomorrow.

Part of my soul is afraid of letting go of what I see from one perspective as “my idea of a perfect life” and the stability living on the farm offers. On the other hand, I am very discontent with the thought of sitting in my rocking chair in many years to come and looking back on life with too many what-ifs and what-could-be.

 This emptiness I feel right now, I think, is a moment in limbo. A pause between the life and person I was and the life and future me that is waiting for me.