When I started solo traveling, it was a way for me to escape the pain I was in. I was struggling so much in my life; the onslaught of debilitating injuries, mental health issues, financial issues and abuse left me feeling like my life was purposeless and had no value. Like many other people, I thought I could run from everything; at least to a different country that is. I thought if I went somewhere else, somewhere new, that I could create a new story for myself, that I’d be too distracted and happy to feel anything else, and that I’d feel like I was finally experiencing something or doing something with my life. I thought it would change me, “fix” my problems and make me a different person.
For many people, this is what solo travel is. It’s an escape. A way to break free from the monotony of daily life and routine activities, or stepping away from the pressures and responsibilities of work, family, and daily obligations to reduce stress. Maybe it’s the fantasy of having a new life somewhere else?
In my case, solo travel wasn’t any of these things. Solo travel for me, was leading an anonymous existence; going somewhere where no one knew who I was, somewhere I didn’t necessarily have to engage or commit to any social obligations, somewhere I could ponder, reflect, think deeply, and gain new insight (ahem… ruminate) on my own thoughts so that I could heal from the emotional and physical trauma I was dealing with, so that I could fight my anxiety and fears about the challenges of being totally on my own without anyone to help me in a foreign place, all so that I could feel like I was capable of achieving something.
Back in April, two weeks into my group therapy, I had a bad experience with one of the therapists that propelled me into a rollercoaster of emotions that left me completely drained and on edge. At home, avoiding all communication with the hospital and hysterical about going back to the program, I fell victim to my own vices, and just as I did back in 2016 when I first started solo travelling, I started looking for an escape in any way possible; an escape from my emotions, an escape from the discomfort, an escape from the “problem”. If I avoid it, it doesn’t exist. If it doesn’t exist, it’s not a problem. And if there’s no problem, I can be fine! Completely logical and makes total sense, until of course the “problem” comes to find me and give me a reality check!
I realized quickly how I was acting impulsively and irrationally in my attempt to cope with what I couldn’t control, because I’m much more self-aware of my coping strategies now which tend to be eating and watching tv to distract me from the stress and anxiety I feel, and turning to God to see the beauty in His word and in life so I can feel peace. I started to rewatch the Messiah because of how deeply it affected me, I listened to enlightening podcasts, and I looked for more books to read similar to my favourites, The Prophet and The Alchemist. It was then in that period of mindfulness that I decided when I do travel again, I need to dedicate my next trip to doing a pilgrimage because of how important it is for me to deepen my connection with my faith and the glory of this world while doing what I love.
My therapist told me that running is my M.O. I struggle to face my anxieties and problems in a constructive manner. It only makes sense that I find reprieve in isolation, disconnection and avoidance, but perhaps rather than running from, I can look at my next solo travel as running into? Running into what I believe most in and reminding myself that I need to surrender my control because not only is it unrealistic to be able to control everything in life, but also because I already know that I don’t actually control any of it. Well, I’ll let you know how that pans-out because you know you’ll be hearing from me about this again!
As always, thank you for taking the time to read, and please leave a comment and share if you’ve had similar experiences or you’re currently feeling the same way.
Jen
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