I'm (27M) a traveller - it's what makes me the happiest, gives my life meaning and all this shit.

Four years ago I  was studying in Taiwan - probably the happiest I've been in my entire life, until out of nowhere I started getting panic attacks about my own mortality. Like, "oh no, some day I will die and it will all end" panic attacks. Which is kinda funny, considering by then I already attempted to kill myself once. After a few months it started getting better, though it's still something that gives me anxiety.

Three years ago I came back home.

Two years ago I had a huge mental breakdown. Ended up with a diagnosis of depression+anxiety, meds, and therapy. It took a lot of work, but I got way better with both. Gradually I got to the best place, mental health-wise I've ever been. I'm still on my meds, but I don't mind it.

A year ago I decided I want to start travelling again, with the goal of going back to South East Asia before the end of 2021. I finished therapy, with the therapist deciding I was good to go. I was saving money, planning, and even started a side hussle to earn a bit more cash. 

A week ago I landed in Bangkok, Thailand. I worked my ass off to achieve that, I quit my job, I dealt with the stress, I spent 26h on the flights and did it all while maintaining COVID restrictions. Everything is better than I expected, I don't have any obligations and I'm completely free to roam and explore.

I should be extatic, but instead I feel... nothing?

Like, driving from the airport I had this huge "whoa, I did it", but since then I haven't been excited about anything. Even worse, it's like my life is pointless now, like I could die tomorrow and I wouldn't mind. I did it, and now there's nothing more to do.

tl;dr:

I achieved what I worked for for over a year and now I feel like I've won the game, but instead of enjoying the reward I want to quit.