Ever since my separation, the idea of solo travel has come up. Sometimes strongly, sometimes a passing thought.

As someone who can get all up in their head when left alone, I am very afraid of actually going on such a journey. From there, it’s an easy spiral of overthinking and anxiety and broken self-esteem.

Then, sometimes in pursuit of what’s right, I can get a little hot-headed. Alone as a woman, this is a recipe for disaster. That balance of not being meek and standing up for yourself vs letting things go is a bit shaky for me in the outside world. Always has been. I’ve managed this so much better in recent years, but having your significant other nudge you in the right direction is so valuable to me.

Money can keep me away from most “problems,” but I don’t want to spend so much on travel right now. Which means smaller and closed-off hotel rooms, for example. Even the image of that sends me. I have stayed alone in hotel rooms recently and it’s rare I check-out the next day without having had an anxiety attack or two.

Perhaps the idea of this whole thing of traveling is to fight these difficulties and come out on top. But I don’t want to fight. I don’t have the strength to fight.