by Nelson
Notes from 11/22/2024:
We’re stuck in a traffic detour once again. But this time, it’s different. I’m not complaining. Rather, I’m welcoming it. These last few days in Thailand feel like it has been going by so quickly, and if sitting here just a bit little longer means I get to soak in just a bit more of this beautiful place I’ve just begun to call home a few weeks ago, then I’ll gladly savor the moment to make it last.
There’s just something so interesting about this slow, winding pause that feels so unusual, but at the same time, it feels oddly satisfying and fitting. It’s almost like Thailand itself is urging me to take it all in one last time––to notice the bustling markets along the streets of Chiang Mai, to appreciate the beauty of the sight when the sunlight beams off the harvested golden rice paddy fields, and to embrace the Chiang Mai community where I have not fully grasped the understanding of the Thai language but somehow feel such a familiar connection with it.
Reflecting back now, if there’s anything that has changed about me over these past 3 months, it’s how much I’ve grown to be unsatisfied with myself––but in a way that feels strangely liberating. It’s not the kind of dissatisfaction that drags you down or leaves you feeling stuck. It’s the kind that pulls at you.
I’ve realized how much more there is to learn, to feel, to understand––not just about this place, but about myself. Thailand has a way of showing you your own edges and then gently nudging you to step beyond them. Every time I find myself hesitating at trying something unfamiliar, I feel that little pang of “not enough.” And instead of resenting it, I’ve started to embrace it. Because every mistake, every stumble, comes with the promise of personal growth.
This feeling isn’t about disliking who I am now––it’s about knowing there’s more of me I’ve yet to discover. I think about the moments when I felt most alive here: biking across the streets of Huai Lan village, learning how to cook with Mae Wan Deeh, or simply just interacting with the villagers, learning about their culture, history, and traditions. Each of these moments lunges at me with the same truth: there’s more. More ways to connect, more ways to learn, more ways to live fully.
And so, this dissatisfaction has become my compass. It points me towards change, towards curiosity, towards a version of myself that isn’t afraid to reach for more, even if it means letting go of comfort.
The detour ends sooner than I want it to, and we’re moving again, but that sense of stillness and dissatisfaction still stays with me. I know the memories I’ve made in Thailand over the past three months will find a way to linger long after I’ve left. But for now, though, I’ll let the world pass by at its own pace, trusting that this time, I’ve truly learned how to accept my dissatisfaction with myself––and understand just how rewarding that can be.
Originally posted here.