Yesterday, before returning to the reserve in Limpopo, I stayed alone in a hotel, caught up on my blog. A moment of stillness before jumping back into the wild.

Sometimes I wonder — why do I write this blog?

I started it with the hope of inspiring others, of sharing the leap I took into a very different life. A part of me also wanted a record for myself, a way to process and revisit the steps I’ve taken. But if I’m being truly honest, I also hoped for recognition — a feeling that what I’m doing matters to someone out there.

It’s easy to get caught up in the metrics: views, likes, comments. I have a few subscribers — not a viral number — and sometimes I question whether it’s worth all the time and energy: writing, editing and choosing photos, sharing something that’s both meaningful and appropriate in a public environment. I remind myself that everything online leaves a trace and there is no real separation between my blog and my real identity.

Yet I keep going. Not because the response is overwhelming, but because I need to express these thoughts. Because this journey, with all its uncertainties, is real. And recording it helps me make sense of it.

The past few weeks have been incredible. I spent six weeks traveling — visiting home, meeting family, exploring new places in Europe. I feel a strong pull to continue contributing in Africa — in wildlife, in conservation, in something meaningful. For now, I’m still figuring it out.

I have been offered an opportunity in helping build and grow a foundation that supports impactful projects. But I’m hesitant. I want to remain independent, to choose a path that feels truly mine. For now, I’m still figuring it out.

I’m heading back to the reserve where I did my internship earlier this year. It should feel like a homecoming — being in the bush again, seeing the cheetah cubs I helped monitor, continuing the work I started. And yet, I feel conflicted.

The truth is, I’m returning to a place that hasn’t changed much — for better or worse. The work is demanding and sometimes isolating. Management dynamics are different from my natural inclination, communication can be difficult, and the atmosphere is often tense. There are politics and trust issues that linger beneath the surface. It’s not always easy to thrive in that environment.

There have been changes. A new operations room has been set up. We’re participating in a vulture monitoring project and tracking systems have been improved.

Some staff have left, others arrived.

On the wildlife side, one cheetah male was lost from a snare, a young lioness and the dominant male lion died from poisoning, a white rhino bull has been introduced, the female cheetah has stopped hunting and expects the supplement from the conservation team. The cheetah watch duty has changed, it is done during the day only: 3 hours in the morning and the afternoon. It is much more dynamic as she moves and walks with the cubs now.

And thankfully, the cheetah cubs are still doing well — a small but meaningful bright spot.

I’ve questioned my decision to return. Maybe it was the safe choice — the one I knew, the one that gave me something to hold onto in a time of uncertainty. I have been encouraged to take time to explore other opportunities, ones that align more closely with my values. I didn’t. Not yet at least.

And so, I return, not with total excitement, but with openness. I don’t have all the answers. My future is uncertain. But I know I’m free. If things don’t feel right, I can move on. That thought comforts me.

I’ve learned a lot in the past year. I’ve had the privilege of seeing remarkable wildlife, immersing myself in new cultures and spaces, and meeting people whose paths I never would have crossed otherwise. I’ve had the time and freedom to step away from my old life and rediscover what matters to me.

Transitions are always messy. The mind wants clarity, control, a neat next step. But that’s not where I am. I’m between chapters, letting the pages turn on their own.

I’ve got my doubts. But I’ve also got hope.

Let’s see what this next chapter brings.