I’ve mentioned earlier that Wellington is very similar to Seattle on every level. The artsy and vegan familiarity isn’t the only reason I picked this city to do a WWOOF volunteership.

The climate is also similar to the Pacific Northwest. Whatever experience is gained here can be applied back at home. The difference is that it can get very windy, with gales exceeding 100 km per hour. Eek!

It’s actually been relatively calm last week, which made it all the more pleasant to pull weeds out of the garden.

I have been getting intimately familiar with onion weed by pulling up the roots and bulbs. Here is an example of a small patch I worked on last week. 

Pulling up all of those onion weeds looks deceptively easy, but it was actually time consuming because the roots ran very deep. Tearing them out from under the surface also exposed some of the fattest earthworms I’ve ever seen, which attracted the birds that would eat them…watching nature take its course before my own eyes.

I can’t express how glad I am to be here. It feels so good to volunteer and be a part of something again. For a while in Seattle, I was living on the periphery.

Currently I’m staying with two lovely hosts who make me feel so welcome and appreciated. And we cook the most delicious and nutritious vegan meals together. Finding the right hosts can definitely impact the experience, and I am so grateful for that. Their place also gets plenty of natural light, which is crucial for winter months, at least for me.

That’s what I’ve missed: something so human as the feeling of belonging somewhere and being a part of something meaningful. With WWOOFing has come a sense of purpose and community. 

It can be easy to go back to my super introverted ways. Isolating oneself is so much easier to do once all basic needs are met. Maybe I’m not ever the type who gains energy by being around tons of people, but last year I have noticed that while isolation keeps people from hurting me, it has been slowly rotting my world. It had gotten to the point where it actually was doing more harm than good, yet I was so wrapped up in its comfort, that it was hard to see a way out. 

This is one reason why I’m traveling. And then traveling just for myself got old. I was looking another purpose outside of my own world that could still be practical and fulfilling. 

Am I trying to be a good person? I don’t know; I ain’t a saint or anything. All I know is that I’m trying my best here like everyone else. I do know that healing or self-improvement cannot be done alone; there needs to be a sense of care and community involved. And it’s not always easy or glamorous. I still fuck up every now and again. But this growth is so far a net-positive.

The expression “tearing out old roots and plant new seeds” has never been more relevant.

I arrived in New Zealand a few days ago. But first! Let’s talk a little about Brisbane, Australia. 

I had a layover that lasted all day, so I took the train from the airport to the city. Southeast Asia can spoil anyone with cheap food and coffee (cheap everything, really), so it was a shock to see how expensive everything is in Australia. Welcome back to the “First World.”

All I did in Brisbane was visit the museums with free admission, take a stroll around the botanical gardens, and take a ride on the City Hopper ferry before making it back to the airport. There wasn’t a better way to kill time. Except…

There is a donut shop called Doughnut Time that has some of the vegan variety. 

I sank my teeth in one and it was so delicious, it almost moved me to tears. In Seattle, I keep telling everyone how they need to try a Mighty-O donut because it’s the best. And people should still have one! As far as being the best I’ve ever had, I’m so sorry Mighty-O, I really do love you, but…

I have since made it to New Zealand. 

As cool as Wellington is, the point of going around the world has been to challenge myself in new environments. Wellington is practically Seattle’s Kiwi cousin, which isn’t a new environment at all. In fact, I feel right at home.

It’s not a bad thing, though it’s interesting that I’ve actually been feeling restless from the lack of adrenaline that steadily pulsed through before. New Zealand is a fairly safe place to be. Walking alone at night is apparently okay, but the idea is still unsettling. 

Nonetheless, the vegan scene here is thriving. There is a little store called V1 Vegan that opened up a just few months ago along Cuba St. I had a pain au chocolat.

The owners are so nice and welcoming and I definitely want to come back! Later that night, I went to a vegan night market that happens every first Saturday of the month. Can I just stay here forever?

There is an art community here, though it’s not quite as strong as Seattle. Then again, I am clearly asking for too much and could just appreciate the art Wellington does have to offer. 

As for the quirky style I’m into, there’s Matchbox Studios, which is a boutique and art gallery. Currently, they have an exhibition called Pet Project: An Exhibition of Cute Animals. You had me at “cute animals.”

Wellington is a very walkable town. I have spent the week getting to know the city either by walking or running through.  

What I’ve noticed lately is how my sense of direction has slowly been returning, especially after taking off for this world tour. PTSD can truly disorient someone. It’s been easier to take a step back from being so wrapped up in the vortex of my own mind. Sometimes I will look at maps to ensure I’m on the right track, but usually there isn’t a need to. Finding my way back when I’m not 100% sure where I’m going almost feels like a magnet along a path. I can feel the pull of the destination.

Currently it’s also peak winter over here. Going from tropical weather to a cold, wet, and grey environment is quite an adjustment. It’s like my system is going through sunshine withdrawal. (Guess I have to turn in my goth card for that.) The southern latitude is on par with Seattle’s northern counterpart, so the sun goes down as early as the north in December. I should be used to having the winter blues by now, except that it’s July! It will be okay; staying active and mindful can make all the difference. Usually I’m sequestered indoors during those months, unless it’s time for a run. It’s just that it was a bit of a struggle last winter, and trust me when I say that having the ol’ seasonal depression once a year is more than enough. 

Just keep breathing and keep going. 

But you know, I’m safe. This town is lovely and I’m in good hands. I can get around without incident and more resources are available to me now. Pretty soon I will start WWOOFing (acronym for World Wide Opportunities on Farms), which is the primary purpose of my time here in New Zealand. So, I’ll finally get to contribute some time and volunteer work, which is what I’ve missed doing. (Hence the working holiday visa shown above.)

So far, my impression of Wellington is that it’s very similar to Seattle and the Pacific Northwest: from the weather to the vegan and art scene that the city offers. Then again, I’ve only been around just Wellington.

The winter blues can go to hell, because this is nothing short of a magical place and I’ve been enjoying every minute of it.

After a super delayed flight from Kuala Lumpur, I practically crashed in Bali. Somewhat literally.

It was a bit of a rough start in Bali. The day after I arrived, I went out for a run. I suddenly crashed into a sign which knocked into a parked vehicle. There were scratches and the driver would not let me go until I paid for the damages. It wasn’t too much money, but that experience made me feel even worse. The owner of the hostel I stayed at said that shit happens and that money is a tool that can always be replaced.

I eventually made it up to Ubud and did a mapped-out walking/hiking tour from the Bali/Lombok Lonely Planet guide book. It is for anyone who has free time and wants to see the rice paddies and farms outside the town.

Don’t be like me and hike alone, especially if you’re a solo female. There were snarling feral dogs and, to make matters worse, a man was followed me on his motorbike. Every time I turned around to confront him, he sped off before I had a chance to get his license plate number. My phone won’t make outgoing calls anymore, so if something goes wrong, I can’t call for help. Eventually I arrived at a village where I felt safer. That is the last time I’m ever hiking alone.

Even though it was a rough start in Bali and the feeling of looking forward to leaving was there, I made it a point to be mindful that those incidents can happen anywhere in the world. It helped to remind myself to not let those define my time in this place.

So, I’ve mostly stayed in Ubud. This is a town that breathes art, culture, and mindfulness, and so I felt right at home. I just wish there was a friend or someone I could share experiences in this town with.

Ubud also has an organic vegan cinema called Paradiso. When I first went there, I had a raw vegan chocolate cupcake while watching “20th Century Women” on the big screen. Can I just stay here forever?

Everywhere in Bali, there are little offerings set outside of homes and storefronts. This is done year round.

I also saw a dance performance called the Barong.

The dance reflects a central theme of Balinese cosmology. Life is understood to exist on the cusp between chaos and order. Too much chaos and everything disintegrates; too much order leads to stagnation. A dynamic balance between the two is optimal. The dance between the forces is eternal. Neither is ever vanquished and the dynamic is confirmed by the equilibrium at the end of the event.

I have reached a point in my worldwide journey where I feel this distant ache, one where it hasn’t really bothered me before. Maybe it was growing and has gotten big enough to be apparent. Despite being a solitude-loving introvert, there is one thing I’ve finally admitted: I’m lonely and homesick.

Usually I enjoy my own company, and while I’ve met and made friends with some awesome people during this journey, this overhanging feeling of emptiness has been lurking like a shadow.

In the book Eat Pray Love, Liz Gilbert mentions that Bali locals will ask, “where are you going?” They do this because they’re very concerned with the “order of things.” Everyone has a place in the universe, and if you’re lost, that can stress them out. They don’t really care what you say, as long as you give a good enough answer and know where you’re going. (Example: “Just down the street.”) I never looked for verifying information, but some locals have asked me that and I just went along with it. And they seemed relieved with whatever answer I gave them.

It made me think that my state of mind is lost when homesickness permeates through. It certainly messes with the order of things in my own existence. Even though Ubud is a lovely town, I couldn’t quite shake the feeling of wishing there was a friend to share this time with, even if it’s just a few days. In the interwoven fabric of community and friends, it has felt like being a stray thread frayed on the edge.

But you know, maybe this homesickness is normal for solo travelers to go through. I made the choice of doing this worldwide trip, and good things aren’t always easy to go through. As cheesy as it sounds, I’ve been re-learning that what keeps us going is how we’re able to stay hopeful and not let anyone take it away; either abroad or even when shit back home hits the fan. It can be deceptively simple at times, though.

Take a deep breath… I will continue onward in spite of. I will continue to meet people and listen to their stories. I will keep running, keep eating delicious vegan food, keep writing, keep meditating, keep growing, keep planning, keep going, keep breathing, keep loving…

I will keep on keepin’ on.

I took the train from Bangkok to the border town Aranyaprathet. From there, I rode to the border via tuk-tuk to get my passport stamped out of Thailand. Being stamped out of one country before being admitted to another was a surreal chaotic limbo at the border crossing to Poi Pet, Cambodia. There are people gambling away at casinos between the two checkpoints, while food vendors slowly push their carts along. I walked the 200 meters to the Cambodian border, ignoring touts offering help obtaining a visa. (It’s a scam.)

I quickly filled out the application for admission to Cambodia. The quiet Cambodian official stamped my passport and issued the visa without any problems. From there, I walked another hundred meters to a seating area for a vehicle that takes passengers to the bus depot, which transports to Siem Reap.

Poi Pet is a notorious crossing with scammers that could win Oscar awards with their convincing tactics. There were six backpackers, and a man who seemed like a compelling government official said that he could arrange a tuk-tuk to take us to the bus depot for just 100 Baht. (Cambodia uses both Thai and U.S. currencies.) We thought, sure, why not. It beats waiting an hour.

There was an uneasy feeling in my gut about this guy, though. He seemed…a little too enthusiastic as a guide. Surely enough, about 2 km in, he pointed and said, “that’s our van. We’re getting off here. That will be 200 Baht.”

If we had waited for five more minutes, that van would have been there to pick us up from the border. Also, he changed the deal on us. The six of us firmly made the driver pull over to the van. We had a deal, and that deal was to get us to the bus depot for 100 Baht–not to the side of the road for twice that much. Because we barely went anywhere, we refused to pay. We didn’t care if we were driven for just 2 km–scamming people is clearly never okay, and we weren’t going to let this guy get away with it. The “agent” was deflated because he was caught. He then said he should come with us to Siem Reap because there are language barrier “obstacles” he can help us get through. Our response: “Get lost.”

And that marked my welcome into Cambodia.

Practically the main reason people visit Siem Reap, Cambodia is to see the archeological temple site, Angkor Wat. The rest of the week in Siem Reap spun in motion.

There was one thing that was on my mind for a while. It didn’t matter that when I test drove a motorbike in Vietnam, I crashed into a wall. Learning to drive one was still high on my agenda, and crashing almost made me give up that goal on my list. But I couldn’t stop thinking about trying again. Sometimes, my stubbornness (determination?) can override all common sense.

At the hotel, I asked for the smallest engine they had, which was 100 cc. After test driving for 20 minutes without any incident, the hotel owner told me to go for it. So, I drove to Angkor Wat, and it went quite smoothly! It was actually easy once I got the hang of it. The traffic is more benign in Cambodia than Vietnam. The meditation and mindfulness practice must be paying off, because I had been able to stay cool-headed even when the traffic became heavy.

For much of my life, I was instilled with fear: “Don’t do this, don’t do that–you’ll fail and look like a fool. You’ll never be able to do that. You’re not good enough. You don’t even get things right the first time. You will get hurt and we need to keep you safe, so just don’t try anything where you’re likely to fail.”

Isn’t it amazing, how traveling can show us we might be more capable of things than we realize?

Before the sun was up, it was just me and the road. Sitting on the bike felt solid and stable, even before switching on the engine. I turned the throttle to accelerate, the cool wind rushing past my face. Breathing in every moment, the taste of freedom.

And that’s how I went around Angkor Wat. That entire site was at one point a civilization of one million people, while London was a mere 50,000.

My favorite part was Ta Prohm, where the ancient temple and nature have fused.

The trees have taken over the temple walls, and you could almost feel the life pulsing through. Every stone in the wall and every single root grown over was a reminder that the earth can heal itself.

It also served as a reminder of our own mortality, how we might remembered…or forgotten.

A while ago another traveler warned about “temple burn out” and I’m starting to get what he meant, but there’s still so much to see.

After Siem Reap, I had a 9-hour layover in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. I met up with someone that our mutual friend set us up with. Yay for new friends!

And now I’m in Bali, Indonesia after a frustrating delay with flights. But everything is okay, so there wasn’t a need to worry. Really. If a few hours lost and lack of sleep are the least of worries, is it really that bad?

This is the last country I’m visiting in Southeast Asia. Then it’s off to New Zealand.

Holy smokes. I’m almost two thirds of the way done.

Luang Prabang, Laos offers chill to travelers who haven’t had much. After spending almost three weeks immersed in the hustle and bustle of Vietnam, the easier vibe in Luang Prabang has given a chance to take a breather for a few days.

I’m the kind of person who likes to do all of the things. The day after I arrived late at night from Hanoi–because our bus broke down–I did a lot of temple hopping, museum going, vegan food eating, window shopping (though I did have some custom earrings made), drawing, writing, a little hike to Phousi, a massage at the Lao Red Cross, and some running thrown in there for good measure. Then I finished the night off at a book store. 

The thing is that feeling rushed to fit everything in just isn’t the Lao way. The locals here gave a gentle reminder to slow down. They promised that I would enjoy their town better if I tried doing less things. If I just soaked up the present instead of getting caught up in the next plan/objective. And they’re right. Harried Westerners like me could learn something from these people.

I climbed to the top of Mt. Phousi. There are little temples to stop and visit along the way. When I reached the top, I dropped a 10,000 kip note inside the box and asked for something that sounds small but means everything. Maybe I’ll share it; for now, it feels more appropriate to keep it in my heart.

I never weigh myself but earlier this week, I was curious. I have lost a significant amount of weight since traveling and am now officially underweight. 

I bring this up because in the past, there was this monster of an eating disorder that had consumed my entire life for about ten years total. It was truly a special kind of hell. I never had a drug problem, but I imagine that this is what it’s like. Eating disorders typically have a deeper issue lying underneath, and mine were a black hole of consistent severe emotional trauma, which formed the backbone of my life. Trauma, depression, and disgust towards myself were all I knew then. So, I starved myself–or binged to oblivion–as a way to cope, the same way a drug addict desperately uses their own vices to escape their demons. Seeing the ever-decreasing numbers register on the scale had been the first and foremost thing calming me down. The hell I was in was so vast, that all odds for recovery seemed absent. It wasn’t until I actually sought for help and slowly learned healthier behaviors that the eating disorder started to fade.

Will I ever love my body? Probably not, but I’ve at least learned to appreciate it for what it is. I love what it can do, the distances it can run, the incredible speed it recovers from injury and illness, and the thriving health it’s in. I love how different cuts of clothing or patterns of fabric can bring out the best features of it. I may not ever be as skinny as I want, but do I really want that anymore? Is having the perfect body really worth the self-hatred and abysmally low self-esteem?

I never thought in a million years that I would actually say that.

I’m not sure when I crossed over the line to choose health over “perfection.” Once I’ve built a stronger and more sustainable foundation to live life, health slowly took over while everything else trickled into place. Slowly my self-respect was growing as I worked to foster my own growth.

So, when I saw that I’m now officially underweight for my height, the first feelings from it weren’t elation or little sparks of joy. Instead, there was some concern, along with more neutral thoughts that maybe weight loss is common when traveling. If you were constantly immersed in new information and surroundings, you would forget to eat, too. Not to mention, it is hot over here!

Don’t worry though, because there has been a vegan buffet every night, and I have been savoring every bite. 

This slower pace in Luang Prabang was probably what I needed in order to process these thoughts and have these realizations. My eating disorder hasn’t crossed my mind in a long while. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I purposely starved myself to lose weight. (Fasting, on the other hand, serves a different purpose, such as resetting the body.) I can’t remember the last time I berated myself for having that cupcake, or stared at my body hypercritically in the mirror for hours on end. I don’t weigh myself, just in case the numbers trigger me again. But the fact I actually feel sexy in my own skin: I never thought I would be able to believe that either.

Today I leave for Chiang Mai, Thailand. I’m approaching the halfway point of my tour and was wondering if I’m even learning anything. Sometimes when you stop and catch your breath, things also just catch up to you…and so becomes a part of you even if it’s no longer relevant. Processing can be slow like that. 

I think the Lao people are onto something. 

After departing the visceral energy of Saigon, my next destination was Hoi An. Hoi An is not to be confused with Hanoi; it’s a beautiful ancient town, pulsing with eloquence and charm.

Hoi An was an important trading port from the 15th through the 19th century, resulting in a fusion of Chinese, Japanese, Portuguese, French, and Dutch influences. Those influences are reflected in the architecture of the buildings. Beautiful lanterns in an array of colors dazzle the streets. Little canals run through the town. Flowers and plants cascade from buildings, and the breeze is clean and soft. While Saigon spins with energy of such dizzying heights, Hoi An is a change of pace, offering a calm and harmonious ambience. 

I took a train to Danang, and then a bus to Hoi An. It was a challenge, as I was navigating among a language I don’t understand. When I’m not sure what’s going on, my anxiety rises even though somewhere deep down I knew things were going to work out. One thing I’ve learned in traveling so far is that, while it’s always important to be aware, sometimes it’s okay to put trust in people who take you around, especially with public transportation that the locals use. And 20 hours later, I arrived in lovely Hoi An.

Hoi An originally wasn’t in my itinerary. But after a few travelers told me about it, I did some research and was sold. The Southeast Asia part of my world tour is a rough plan. Usually my plans for everything are settled and decided, so this is different. There is so much to do and choose around here, that I mostly left it open. I also don’t know what to expect, but I’m starting to grasp the culture and how to go about this region. 

In the past, I always had a plan for everything and backup plans just in case anything fell through. The sense of controlling every outcome is how I would cope with life. It has always felt safer, knowing what to expect. The thing is that exerting that much control eventually becomes exhausting. So, things start to slip. And then when it feels like I’m losing control, feelings of helplessness and emptiness grow. I’m learning that flexibility isn’t a bad thing. Being flexible doesn’t mean being indecisive. It can offer some sense of control, as it gives many more options if something doesn’t work out. 

So, I left Saigon a day early and stayed in Hoi An a day longer than intended.

I rented a bicycle one day to get around town. I haven’t ridden a bike in over a year, and it was a little bit of a wobbly ride. Riding was fine until the evening, when I got into an accident by side swiping a motorcyclist, sending both of us crashing down the street. Then all of these motherly Vietnamese ladies came running over to us with their mysterious oils and ointments and patched us up. Although I was dazed from the impact, it was a very sweet gesture. Even though we don’t speak each other’s language, they gave first aid, just like that. 

The driver and I made sure the other was okay. He only had a scratch on his finger and that was it. We rode off.

It made me think how caring and being cared for is one of the things that makes us human.

The pain still spasms in my lower back and butt. It has been difficult to move, and every bump I feel on the road sends shocks of pain throughout my body. I’m very fortunate that nothing is broken. Things are just very sore now. The good news is that Tiger Balm is sold for a dollar here.

The following day after the accident, I thought it was a brilliant idea to test drive a motorbike, even though I have never operated one before. That’s how most people get around. I actually managed to drive it down the block and back just fine. While pulling back into the lot however, I accidentally cranked the accelerator and crashed into a wall at 5 m.p.h. The person who was renting the motorbikes out didn’t want to rent one to me, which was fair.

At least I tried it out. One of these days though! 

On the brighter side, I signed up for a cooking class at Minh Hien Vegetarian Restaurant and learned how to make vegan pho!

It’s a noodle soup swimming in vegetable broth and all the veggies you can handle. I’ve been eating it almost everyday that I’ve been in Vietnam. So, why not learn the secrets of making it?

A tour to My Son was purchased as well (pronounced “Mee Son”). The Unesco World Heritage Site consists of temple ruins, where Hinduism was worshipped from the 4th century to the 13th century. Today, the My Son temples are in poor shape after American bombs devastated the area. 20 structures survive, whereas there were once 68. 

I spent a day longer than intended in Hoi An. Part of the reason was to rest after the accident. But mostly, the allure of this lovely town was magnetic. If you’re an introvert like me, then this is definitely worth visiting.

I have since arrived in Hanoi after an 18 hour bus ride. For now, I am taking everything in. My stay in this country has been longer than intended, and there is still a lot to see. The soreness from the accident is still uncomfortable, but I’m slowly healing after getting some rest. I will write about my experiences on Northern Vietnam in a few days. 

From April 24th through the 30th, we were immersed in the surreal world of AfrikaBurn, a Burning Man regional event held at the Tankwa Karoo National Park.

I am what you would call a Burner: someone who attends Burning Man. I also have an official diagnosis for PTSD, Avoidant Personality Disorder, and Social Anxiety Disorder. Social Anxiety Disorder is an anxiety disorder in which an individual is fearful of interaction with others. This goes beyond shyness. From Wikipedia:

Social anxiety disorder (SAD), also known as social phobia, is an anxiety disorder characterized by a significant amount of fear in one or more social situations, causing considerable distress and impaired ability to function in at least some parts of daily life. These fears can be triggered by perceived or actual scrutiny from others.

This psychological wall has been built over many, many years from trauma in order to keep everyone out. Introversion is a natural tendency of mine, and so isolation has often been comforting. Ronnieland is a safe place to be; nobody can hurt me there. But the isolation and avoidance has given a false sense of safety. It’s one thing to want to avoid something that hurts; but when it affects virtually every aspect of your life, that is not normal. The good news is that it can be reversed through Cognitive Behavioral Therapy and medication.

And then there are events like Burning Man.

I’ve been to Burning Man in the USA four times: 2011, 2013, 2014, and 2015. Every time I’ve been, there has always been a wide range of workshops and lectures to attend for personal and interpersonal development. Everyone has their own reasons why they attend a Burning Man event: whether it’s to let loose their inner sparkle pony and indulge in raucous debauchery, to get in better touch with their creativity, to make more friends, and/or to delve into a stronger connection with their spiritual self. Whatever the reasons are, there are the 10 Principles to live by in order to keep the community strong. They are as follows:

1. Radical Inclusion
2. Gifting
3. Decommodification
4. Radical Self-Reliance
5. Radical Self-Expression
6. Communal Effort
7. Civic Responsibility
8. Leaving No Trace
9. Participation
10. Immediacy

AfrikaBurn has an 11th Principle: “Each one teach one.”

Burning Man and its regional events can be a challenging place for someone with social anxiety. There is always so much going on, with people everywhere. It can be overwhelming. The good news is that everyone is friendly and welcoming. It is a community where weirdos are welcome, as long as you abide by the 10 Principles.

For AfrikaBurn, I had made a few necklace pouches, each containing a vial of dust straight from the source known as Black Rock Desert, where Burning Man is held. The rule was to give them out to those who really want to go to Burning Man, but have never been. One of them was given to one of my camp mates, which was easy. The other four that were left meant that it was time to strike up conversation with someone.

It’s interesting, because we all have to do that on a daily basis. For someone with social anxiety, conventional wisdom would say that it gets easier as they interact more with others. Except, what if it doesn’t? What if they continuously experience distress from interaction?

I don’t know what works for others. What I do know for myself is that combatting social anxiety is not just a mental process. It involves settling the mind back into the body, where it belongs. A lot of times, social interactions can cause the mind to “check out” when things feel overwhelming. What I’ve been doing was meditating to guide my own agitated mind gently back into a warm calm state and have it stay there.

One night I was out with my friends, and there was a vision of two entwining spirals–the split selves of me–coiling into each other and melting into my core. It was the adult me holding the little girl inside; I held her close and whispered, “you don’t have to be sorry for anything.”

Meaning, you don’t have to be sorry for existing. You don’t have to be sorry for feeling, for thinking, for having needs. You don’t have to be sorry for being human.

One of my friends asked if I was alright. And I told her what was going on. Another one of my friends said, “of course you don’t have to be sorry. Why would you have to be sorry for stuff like that?”

It also helped to keep in mind that everyone loves receiving gifts, no matter how small. So, when I gave away my jewelry pieces to strangers, it was so rewarding to see their faces light up with joy.

The last one I had was a brooch pin with a glass vial of dust. A friendly person smiled at me while we danced, and something as simple as a little smile was so profound to me. Usually I would avert my eyes and avoid the person, because my traumatized mind would flash a warning light. This time, I chose to take a few deep breaths, and stay present. I observed the person, and while I’m wary around people, there was absolutely nothing scary about him.

All he asked was if I was having a good time and how going to Burning Man is high on his bucket list of things to do. I knew that this was the person who needed to have the brooch, so I pinned it on him. His eyes widened in surprise and he asked, “are you sure?” I smiled and told him to enjoy it.

He then reached into his bag and pulled out a necklace with an inner circle of a five Rand coin. He was wearing the outer circle of the coin around his neck. And then he took a photo of me.

I was absolutely not expecting that, but that can be the beauty of Burning Man events. When we gift something, there is no expectation of getting something in return. It’s not a bartering system like the default world believes. We gift out of kindness, because we want to. I thanked him and walked to my camp to rest up.

I was thinking why something so simple as that interaction can be so difficult with others. Despite my introverted tendencies, I crave human contact like everyone else. It can be hard with that wall separating me and the rest of the world. It’s difficult to open up, as I don’t always feel safe expressing my feelings.

Here I was sitting at my camp at 4 AM. I tried to stop it, but the tears gushed forth despite my best efforts to “stay strong,” whatever that means anymore. At this point, it was best to let it pass through. This was an emotional block and it needed to get out.

My friends checked to see what was going on, and it was so awkward. I don’t think I’m alone here, but it’s uncomfortable crying in front of people even if they are close to me. This is a common result from growing up in an environment where it wasn’t safe to express emotions. So when they came to check on me, I had to fight every urge to apologize for being this way, because this is being human.

Turning off social anxiety is not like a switch. It’s quite tiring, but what was important is that my friends held space. Nobody was judging, and they certainly didn’t make me feel bad for anything. They made me feel safe and cared for. Those are the kinds of people you want in your life. It sounds like a no-brainer, but trust me when I say this is real.

I sat there breathing and gathering my wits together before heading back out to see the Tree of Life temple burn at 5 A.M.

For the rest of the time there, it wasn’t always profound. Every moment wasn’t a revelation or an a-ha realization about connection. Usually I don’t have sudden epiphanies. Usually these realizations slowly build on top of one another piece by piece as the steely ice wall of Ronnieland slowly chips away. That’s usually how learning comes by anyway. It often takes a few tries of anything to sink in. It’s events like AfrikaBurn and Burning Man that can really test someone’s limits, especially one with social anxiety.

It’s up to the one experiencing all of this to decide what to take from it and where to go from there. Some people live by the mantra, “what happens at AfrikaBurn stays at AfrikaBurn,” but so many others choose to take those 11 Principles and live their lives and serve their communities through those.

As for me, I’ve been a Burner since 2011, and building self-confidence through this community is still a learning process. It doesn’t stop. It shouldn’t stop. And I don’t think I’m alone here. We do the best we can with what we have. Because in the end, connections are all we have. We are all in this together.