Tossed My Baggage into the Bosphorus

Tossed My Baggage into the Bosphorus

I’ve always been interested in travel. Seeing new cities, tasting new cultures, and experiencing new languages is an invigorating experience for me. I’ve been on a few journeys, and each and every one of these travels had a positive impact on my spirit.

In December 2014, I went to Istanbul with family and friends. That time marked the end of the year I suffered losses, both personally and professionally. I had dreams to build a family with a man, shattered after a nasty breakup. I had dreams of advancing in my career, blown away with a management decision to shut down the place I worked at.

Hardships are nothing new to me and I’ve always faced them with the attitude of “something good will come out of this”. However, this time was different. I was so consumed by my pain that I insisted that nothing good could ever come out of these losses. I was so convinced that these experiences would add no new lessons to me. Even though that bitter thinking, I was looking for answers for my WHYs. And because I knew how much travel can ease my soul, I decided I deserve a trip to Istanbul. It was cold wintery weather there, but the fire in my mind was enough to keep me warm during that trip.

I knew I was on a healing journey but I did not know if my healing had started yet. I was enjoying the trip to the max; through metro trips and walking for miles till my feet hurt. I was creating memories without even taking pictures because I had taught myself during my trip to beautiful Brazil to just absorb the whole scene and create the image in my brain without the need to take a picture to remind myself of it. I can go back to viewing the falls of Iguaçu in my mind’s eye as I write this article and hear the sound of splashing water; I can even hear the side chats of the tourists passing by.

Every day in Istanbul, I was bathing in the magnificence of that old city; the palaces, the streets, the food, the sea, and the mysteries the Sultans have left lingering in the neighborhoods that hold their names. Every night when I got to the hotel, I’d start a search party inside me, read a few inspirational articles, and pray in gratitude for the beautiful experience I was having.

But I was always wondering whether I’ve healed or not; as if it can happen overnight (I know J the treasures of the sultans messed with my head hahaha). One night I felt like writing, took my pen and wrote in my diary all that has happened to me that year and I described the hurricanes that were swirling inside my head and heart. On a couple of papers, the story was complete and without a second thought, I slipped them into my bag and fell asleep.

The next day we embarked on a tour in the Bosphorus Sea. As we raced the seagulls on the Turkish waters, enjoying the scenery drawn by the fancy castles and old citadels on shore; I remembered the papers I had written the night before.

While still asking myself “Am I healed yet?” I took out the papers and shredded them into tiny pieces and calmly and consciously started throwing them into the sea. With every piece of paper thrown, a part of me described in them was vanishing into oblivion and that scared me. What exactly was I throwing into that sea? I did not know for sure back then, but now I do. I was just dropping baggage I no longer needed into the calm waters.

It was both a scare and a relief. It was cold on the deck and the wind was moist but I was too engaged in the process of breaking my shackles and freeing my shoulders of this burden. I looked at people around me and wondered if everyone on this ship were having the time of their lives as supposed to. That I would never know, but what I know for sure is that my trip turned out to be a retreat that I had created for myself. A retreat which details I had planned and was guided by heart to the healing part of it.



Scroll to Top