Día Veintitres / Day Twenty Three

No head bopping to the guy next to me this morning; my bunk bed was up against a wall, which I sincerely appreciated.

And that “I’m a grown woman” statement? Not entirely true. We had chocolate ice cream for breakfast. We’d bought a kilo worth of that Vienetta ice cream cake roll thingy for after dinner, but everyone was so full we only got through a fraction of it – and waste not, want not. Ice cream for breakfast it is!

Actually while we’re on the topic of correcting misleading statements, I feel I should address ‘that’ picture I put up a few days back of me in the mirror – the one where my legs look pretty damn fine. I need to admit: I’m totally working those angles and in front of an already friendly mirror. I’ve been eating waaaay too much bread to actually have pins like that; it’s definitely more of an illusion. Please don’t expect me to come back to Australia with the body of a Victoria’s Secret model, because that is not happening.

This morning was our last with Frankie as well. I think he will really leave us today, which left me pretty sad. He’s been my side kick for basically the whole walk, so it will be different all over again without him.

Thinking about goodbyes/letting go/disappointments – and having SO much time to think! – got me going down a rabbit hole.

One of the boys told me, “It’s the Camino. It f***s with your mind.” He’s not wrong.

I feel bipolar here, and I know at least a handful of others do too. Everyone else is either lying or hasn’t gotten around to admitting it just yet.

I start to wonder, “Am I really doing the best I can?”

“Is there something I’m missing?”

“Why am I still searching? What am I actually searching for?”

“Why am I not satisfied in this moment?”

“What is my heart crying out for?”


Time to think can actually be a bad thing. It’s so easy to second guess everything … and/or question your entire existence. Doubts are raised, fears come to the surface, disappointments are highlighted.

I’ll be real: my biggest is still being single.

I am living such a magnificent life, but my heart longs for a best friend to live each day with.

Yes, yes, I’ve got Jesus, I’ve got beautiful amazing friends, I’ve got the best family possible, I know all this. But I still want my hand to be held, my heart to be pursued, a certain finger to have a ring on it. (Eventually.)

I have been loved so well in years gone by, and I see my parents doting on each other that I know some of what I’m missing out on. And I do miss it.

I’m also scared.

How is someone else going to fit into this amazing existence with me? I don’t want a white picket fence.. I want to adventure around the world with a family in tow, and keep living an exceptional story.

Where do I find a tall, handsome, lover of God who I can partner with? Have I set my standards too high? Dammit Mum and Dad, sometimes I wish you guys weren’t so phenomenal so I wouldn’t have such a high expectation of what is possible… And then I remember to be thankful that you’ve shown me what is possible and given a beautiful example.

As I walk through cities, past houses abandoned to nature, over highways, cross rivers, amongst ripe vineyards, I let my mind long and desire and wish for these things. And then I change my perspective just a fraction: to hoping and dreaming and embracing once again this season for however long it lasts. (But come on Lord, hopefully not too much longer?)

We did say goodbye to Frank, after he gave Manu one last massage.

I made dinner – broccoli and miso soup (Manuel is still not impressed with my culinary skills).

Conan was not fed.

My heart still grows.

Sometimes it’s more of a stretch than a blooming (i.e. not very comfortable), but it is still good.

I will trust this process, and I will keep trusting my God.

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