Is there a cure for wanderlust?

Me at an open air market, somewhere in Uganda

I have an addiction. One I believe there is no cure. One that is getting harder to control. And one that's impossible to ignore. 

I've been back from my trip to East Africa for about a week now and it's all I can think about. My return to reality has been difficult, even though my reality is rather sweet. 

I have worked as a journalist for 10 years, currently covering crime for a major daily newspaper in Canada. My job allows me to travel twice a year, writing about exotic places. The stories are published nation wide, giving plenty of exposure to my travel writing. I own my own condo in a great neighbourhood, have a cute and lovable cat, and a boyfriend who makes me happy.  My parents are the best a child could ever ask for and are there for me if I ever need anything. 

Still, it's not enough to keep me grounded. 

I typically spend the first hour of my day scrolling through my Twitter travel feed, tweeting and reading stories about travel or interesting photos from around the globe. During my down time between crime stories, I think about where I want to go next, then research what it's like there, how much it is, what there is to see, when is the best time to go. Some days in the media are exciting, other days I'm chained to my desk for eight hours, staring at a computer, daydreaming about a yoga retreat in Indonesia, cycling across Cambodia or sunsets over rice fields in Vietnam.

Whenever I return from another adventure, I view my reality differently. The people around me seem boring, my job seems uninteresting (even though I know it's one of the more interesting careers you can have) and everything is mundane. Nothing has changed or excites me here. I've seen and done almost everything that interests me in this part of the world. Despite the adventures I plan during my days off, my reality feels like one big routine.  Monotony kills my soul. 

Some people ask about my travels, others don't say anything. The only people I can really talk to about my experiences in foreign lands are the ones who share the same restless spirit. I look at people who don't travel like there is something wrong with them.  

I think a lot about taking off. I already have my ultimate southeast Asia adventure planned out. I know where I'd go, what I would like to do and for how long. All I need is the time to do it. The problem is, in order to do a trip like this I would likely have to quit my job — a tough decision since jobs like this aren't easy to come by. 

With five international trips in the last two-and-a-half years, I'm finding the more I travel, the harder it is to come back to my reality.  I don't even know how my reality is supposed to feel anymore and constantly crave adventure. I keep thinking that if I do a big, long trip, maybe I'll get the travel bug out of my system and I can settle down. But my mother believes such an adventure will only make my addiction worse. The only cure, she says, is to slow down on my travels and find true love. But is this really the solution?