Losing My Way

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This week I've felt a little lost.  Moving back to your hometown after a very long absence is a strange experience, and my commute between Dublin and Melbourne has both helped and hindered, by keeping me with one foot in and one foot out for nearly a year.

Moving home seems like it should be easy because it's familiar - but in fact, that almost makes it harder.  It's like trying to catch up with a TV series you once watched religiously, when you've missed several seasons and almost all the characters are new.  Just because I was a big fan of Home and Away in days of yore doesn't mean it makes any sense to me now.  (Although it's reassuring to see that Alf's still in it.)

I'm scared of not being able to find a place for myself here after so long away - but, conversely, I'm also scared of losing my Lady Traveller identity and the openness and sense of adventure that has been part of my life for the past three years.

But here's what I know.  Getting lost is an inevitable part of any journey.  I've always found my way in the past - so I have to trust that I will find my way now too.