I am honest and straightforward, yet I find it so hard to admit to myself, let alone to my family, friends and to the whole world, what I have long been denying and ignoring but know is the truth for me: that home isn’t where my heart is.
Home is in the middle of the city where everything is available and accessible. Growing up in a big, loving and supportive family, there was nothing else I could ask for – except that I couldn’t find my fit in anything else apart from those.
At every stage of my life, I always find myself doing something different from what others do. They looked, I tried. They played hula hoops, I did Taekwondo. They put on make-up, I read books. They dreamed about boys, I worked on keeping myself at the top. They strolled at the mall, I pinned places I wanted to go to and explore.
I was introduced to solo traveling when I went to a province 4hr-drive away from where I live, to compete in an intercampus journalism. I was in awe of how different things there were from home. I was 11 then, and that was the beginning of everything.
I realized that there’s more to the country than the city I live in. And if that’s the case, then there are a whole hell lot of countries in the world than just Philippines. And I want to see them all.
My hunger for adventure, for the unknown grew bigger and bigger. My feet ached to go; my eyes, to see more; my heart, to go beating wilder. I was always looking forward to weekends so I could travel, and then come back and relive the moments.
And then I could not be contented anymore with just that. I wanted to keep moving; I wanted to just leave whenever I wanted to, not because weekend was over. I stopped wanting to go home to share my stories and started looking forward to the next place I am going to discover.
Home has become a boring, unattractive place full of the same people who complain about and hate what they’re doing for almost all their life but are too afraid to change it and go after what they really want. I left and came back and things were still the same. Like the time I spent traveling was one big dream and I can just continue from where I left off. It’s now more than ever, when I realized that home isn’t where my heart is.
So, what do you do when home isn’t where your heart is?
Go. Break free from all the things that are limiting you from going after what you want. Leave your job and sell everything you own if you have to. They don’t make you happy anyway, so what’s the point in keeping them?
Go. Keep your eyes open, take the plunge, and jump into life with both feet. Don’t worry about tomorrow or about going broke. You will figure it out. You always will. And you will be surprised why you were even worrying about a lot of things when life will happen no matter what.
Go. Throw yourself out there and meet a lot of people — people who you will make real friendship and connection with, who you will share the unforgettable moments of your life with, who will not judge you for doing what you’re doing. They are the ones who will truly understand you.
Go. You don’t have anything to lose but the only life you are now spending on a lot of things that don’t even make you happy. Are you willing to waste it away and regret it in the end?
Go. Chase your dreams. See the world. Discover things you never thought exist. Amaze yourself with the beauty of life. Let yourself be happy. Allow yourself to live.
Just go. Follow your heart. Because at the end of the day, home is where you’ll be truly happy is where your heart is, wherever that may be. Find home.