‘Traveller, writer, dreamer.’
That’s the sum of my Instagram account bio.
But I’m starting to wonder if I can rightfully claim that last word.
I was definitely a kid who had her head in the clouds. A bookworm, a day dreamer, with one foot in fantasy land.
One year I came home with my report card, and one of my teachers’ comments was that I was ‘very practical’. We laughed about it, because how far off base was that?!
While we often laugh at dreamers for being off in their own world, on the flipside, I think we also frequently put them on a pedestal. Especially among creative types, we think practical = staid and boring.
But the older I get the more ruthlessly practical I become. I struck out on my own early and I’ve been fending for myself since.
The most surprising thing I learned about myself while travelling was how adaptable I can be. When I don’t have strict plans, I’m more than happy to go with the flow and not freak out no matter what happens.
That said, in my day to day life I am nowhere near as flexible. Normal life dictates planning, and when my plans are derailed I cannot pivot – I find it extremely hard to cope.
Where is this introspection going? I’m not too sure. I guess all I’m trying to say is I’m adjusting to a new perception of who I am (years late?) and how that makes me feel. My inner dreamer still lives, but she’s firmly encased in a thick armoured shell of pragmatism.