This year’s Camino wasn’t planned. It’s called Camino Primitivo. It happened overnight. We were in the year of Covid, and my two-year relationship had just ended. Because of the virus and the nature of my work, I was locked inside for a total of 7 months, jobless. My mind couldn’t handle the pressure, and it left its mark on the relationship too. Months of uncertainty without income dragged me into the dark side of life. My only company during this period was doubt about my own existence. I didn’t like being financially supported by my partner – my parents raised me to survive on my own. Behind closed doors, I was stuck for 210 days in total, and it took its toll. A beer at 11 a.m. “saved me” from overthinking about what the hell to do next. A dark time, good for absolutely nothing, and I don’t like to remember it. My thoughts bounced around like a ping pong ball across the table. More often than not, they crashed into the net. An unmatched agony. A stretch of pure self-destruction. Rage, sadness, worries. A shit cocktail of emotions anyone normal would gladly blow up with TNT if they could. But sadly, life doesn’t come with shortcuts.
It’s a horrible feeling when you realise you’re driving straight into a ditch and don’t know how to stop. A year of chaos and a thousand and one questions buzzing in my head. A dozen hamsters tried to keep my left-brain wheel spinning, hoping to get me through the crisis. Sadly, they failed. The result of all that spinning? SELF-DIAGNOSIS: You went to shit. You hit rock bottom. And hitting bottom is exactly what you need for personal growth. Ironically, that’s the real light at the end of the tunnel. My face in the mirror reflected disgust and disappointment. If hope dies last, then my hope is my humour. I wrap my problems in sarcasm – it’s my survival kit. My brain was ready to call the shop I bought the mirror from and file a complaint, because I didn’t like what I saw. But let’s be clear, no one else is to blame for my mess. Stubborn as I am, I stared at that mirror long enough for that Tina to finally wake up – the one who’s been fighting, pushing, and never giving up for 43 years. “Are you really going to keep feeling sorry for yourself like some whiny 15-year-old who thinks the world’s unfair, or are you finally going to learn something from this mess and move on toward the next fuck-up?” It was time for change. For adventure. For self-work. For new, beautiful memories to replace the shitty ones. It was time to bring back the good old Tina – the one who knows how to enjoy life and grab it with a damn shovel, not a spoon.
Just to be clear… the Camino didn’t call me, like people love to say. I called it. And I asked if it was ready for me. We all know what the Camino said.
And so I trotted off toward new adventures.