“The only thing of which one can be guilty is of having given ground relative to one’s desire.”
Slavoj Žižek
There’s something quietly profound about looking back and realising how far you’ve come—not just in distance, but in understanding. When I left home at nineteen, camera in hand, and stepped aboard a cruise ship for the first time, I had no idea what kind of life I was beginning. I thought I was just going to work, to see the world a bit. But that journey didn’t end when I stepped off a different ship two years later. It hasn’t ended yet.
Since that first job, I’ve lived in America, Cyprus, Wales, and England. I’ve had addresses and attachments in more places than most people collect fridge magnets. Even now, working as cabin crew, I continue to criss-cross the globe. I sleep in hotels more often than in my own bed. The itch to move has never quite gone away—and maybe it never should.
But here’s the truth that’s taken me years to see: travel doesn’t change who you are. It reveals you.
Travel Isn’t a Fix—It’s a Mirror
There’s a romantic idea we’re sold about travel, that it “broadens the mind.” And it does. But it also exposes things. It shines a light on how you respond to stress, to isolation, to unfamiliarity. It shows you who you are when no one’s watching and you’re a long way from anything that feels like home.
I’ve made some remarkable choices. I’ve also made some truly awful ones. I’ve fallen in love on different continents and fallen apart in places I couldn’t even point out on a map now. I’ve been married. Divorced. Twice. My career has been a mix of high points and quiet stretches that tested my confidence and my nerve.
And yet—I’m happy.
Because the further I’ve travelled, the more I’ve come to realise that growth doesn’t look like success. It doesn’t move in a straight line. It stumbles. It learns. It sometimes goes back to the beginning and starts over.
Blackpool to the World
Every now and then I think of that kid from Blackpool, suitcase packed, boarding a ship with a camera and a vague sense of ambition. What would he say if he saw the life I’ve built? The places I’ve been? The cultures I’ve encountered?
He’d probably say, Really? Me?
And I’d say, Yeah. You made it happen.
That’s the thing. There’s luck, sure. Timing. Opportunities. But you still have to choose. You still have to say yes. You still have to get on the plane, take the job, walk into the unknown.
Žižek’s words stay with me: “The only thing of which one can be guilty is of having given ground relative to one’s desire.”
I’ve done a lot of things wrong. But I never gave up on my desire—to see more, know more, connect more deeply. That desire is still with me, whether I’m walking the Camino, working 38,000 feet in the air, or telling stories through the story pilgrim.
Final Thoughts
Personal growth doesn’t come from ticking off destinations. It comes from being present in those places—from listening, observing, sometimes failing, and always moving forward.
Travel has shaped me. But I shaped my life by continuing to move. And somewhere along the way, I stopped chasing the perfect path and started embracing the journey.
And I’m still on it.
