Flying Solo: Why I Prefer Solo Travel
In My Head
I’m 33 years old, and some days I don’t like myself. I have days when I feel I’m doing everything wrong. The amount of time that I spend planning for the worst possible outcome is disturbing. This is a travel blog, so why does any of that stuff matter? It matters because it’s part of why I hunger to travel, and why I prefer to do it solo. When I travel with other people, my internal conversation changes.
It becomes don’t make them think there’s something wrong with you. Don’t let them see that you’re anxious. It then turns to why did I even come here, or god I’m so stupid, and I know that they think I’m stupid. The thing is that I know that those things aren’t true, I know that my depression and anxiety make my brain lie to me. 9 times out of 10 I’m the only person thinking something is wrong. To be honest, I travel solo to get away from myself. I do it to escape my mind’s litany of what ifs. I do it to be anonymous.
On Anonymity
I know anonymity isn’t something that usually comes to mind when you think about traveling. When it does come to mind, it’s usually accompanied by thoughts of bad behavior. Don’t worry, I’m not going abroad, or out of state even, so that I can act a fool. Going solo is about knowing that I’m in a place where no one knows me, and they aren’t going to ask me if I took my meds today. Those people aren’t going to ask me if I ate or whatever other thing that people who love me ask because sometimes I don’t take very good care of myself. Nope, new places don’t ask the kind of questions that remind me that sometimes I’m not alright. The first two times I traveled outside of the U.S. I was with people who know and love me (I assume, and if not I have questions). I needed a therapy session before I left for Spain, and it was still kind of a disaster.
That One Time in Therapy
Yes, I said what you saw. I had to have a last minute, near emergency therapy session before I could get on a plane. I’m not afraid of flying, but I was terrified of leaving the country with someone who knows about 98% of my skeletons. I was afraid I’d get on his nerves and he’d leave me or something else preposterous. For the record, no one has ever gone off and left me behind. Well, unless you count that one time I got drunk at a house party, and my friends lost me for over an hour. So yeah, it didn’t make a lot of sense.
I was scared I’d leave my epinephrine at the hotel then end up having some crazy allergic reaction to God only knows what. Again not super likely, but obviously I have to carry the epinephrine for a reason. My therapist looked at me, and was like are you listening to yourself. I couldn’t blame her, I knew I sounded ridiculous, but I couldn’t stop. She talked me off the ledge, and I went on about my day. I went to my parents’, and came back home. Then I got on a plane to New York, and forgot that part of my brain was writing some apocalyptic story line. The world didn’t end, not at all.
So, about Spain
The world kept right on spinning. Me, I ended up having a major meltdown. It was due to a combination of jet lag and general annoyance with my friend. He was being dramatic about my navigation skills (they suck, I know it, I navigate with landmarks). I ruined my own trip. I thought I’d ruined my friendship too if I’m being honest. That all happened because I imagined that he was thinking horrible things about me. Perhaps this is what Solange meant on that first track?
No? Okay then back to the discussion at hand. I knew I would travel solo going forward. I realized that between the MIA freakout, and the Barcelona meltdown, I couldn’t inflict myself on other people. It was as much for my sanity as it was for theirs. I knew that the common factor in both situations was me. I do better at my own pace, and so here we are. I’m a solo traveler now.
On Freedom
Please, don’t get it twisted. My love of solo travel isn’t solely based on my inability to adequately manage my anxiety when on the road. Freedom is a big part of that love as well. Being able to move slow, and stop to look at any and everything is incredible. I enjoy having conversations in my broken Spanish without feeling self-conscious. There’s joy in being able to locate a space, and exist in stillness. I appreciate that I can stop and take 50 pictures of the same thing because the light changed. That’s the kind of freedom I’ve missed for so many years. My internal conversation was always a question of what other people thought. When I travel solo that conversation changes.
Solo travel is both factor and outcome when it comes to my personal journey to wellness. I’ll travel with other people again at some point, but right now it’s important for me to move alone. Sometimes moving alone can be lonely, so if you ever see me roam past do say hello, unless I have on headphones. If you see me with headphones, don’t talk to me. I’m probably lost and listening to directions.
