Inner monologue – Sharon Newth

I was the child in primary school who was labelled shy, and according to my prep teacher my verbal language skills were ‘below average’. Little did they know or understand the complex inner monologue that was my daily life. In year 7 at secondary school I hunched my shoulders in an effort to make myself disappear when a boy winked at me to show his affection. There were years of painful torment when I was put into awkward social situations and set up to fail. An inner strength and resolve was building inside me, a tough and extremely capable core that was trapped inside a complex array of inhibitions and preconceptions. It lay waiting, like a submarine, unseen, but powerful and largely invisible to the world.

I suppose it came as a surprise to many then, when in my early 20s I decided to throw in a successful corporate career and travel to Africa. Soaring up the ladder in corporate financial land, young and promising, the quiet determined core was growing. Meanwhile the corporate abyss threatened to devour me whole, and spit me out again like vomit. ‘Crazy’, said work colleagues, ‘Why would you quit?’, “You’ll never earn this much anywhere else”. So quit I did, with a secret glee, a small portion of terror, and a rock solid core of determination. My boyfriend was told not to follow, this had to be mine and mine alone. I admit that the stubborn and kick arse woman within needed to prove herself, to tell that world that ‘shy’ was not weak or lesser, that each and every one of us can conquer the world whenever we choose.

So off I went to Africa, first stop Nairobi. Walking the streets that first night on my own, arriving in my hotel room to find a bathroom sink with a pipe that emptied out onto the floor and a window that didn’t close, was one of the best nights of my life. The sense of liberation, of freedom from expectation and labels, gave me a buzz like no other. With each encounter and human experience my confidence grew, and I saw myself in a different light. I was the same, and yet I felt that people who had always known me would not recognise me. I walked the streets confidently, a solitary white face in a sea of black, all eyes upon me. I acted as if this was perfectly normal, and then it was.

Why had it taken me this long to feel so free and unencumbered? Why had my strength remained below the surface for so long? I felt like a dog with it’s head out the window of a car, wildly drunk on the freedom of exploring the world alone. I cherished feeling brave and relished being the independent soul I had always wanted to be (and I didn’t miss the boyfriend).

I looked around at the beautiful smiling faces of the African people as I travelled south from Nairobi, admiring the way they let the hours pass without ceremony, unencumbered by the demands of western civilisation. I chatted with locals, and all the while formulated a plan for how to spend longer on this amazing continent. The people, the land, taught me how to live and love with reckless abandon, and without regret. I began to seek constant adventure and it became difficult to imagine life back in the western world. Every day I felt more at peace with who I was and more connected to the earth.

My 3 month trip finished and I was devastated that I had to leave to go and work in England. Away I went and work turned to study and a certificate in Teaching English as a second language. A few months later I was back in Ghana in West Africa teaching and exploring. My dreams were now a reality. Making the decision to do this trip, and resolving to do it solo, was without doubt the single most life changing and defining moment of my life. I am forever grateful to my inner monologue, the voice of quiet determination that knew I could do anything I wanted, for making this a reality. This experience taught me to seize each day and make the world my own, and from that moment on life took on a new richness and texture could not be denied. Just do it, the world is yours.