Why I'm Taking a Solo Trip This Summer

 

Sometimes the bravest thing you can do for yourself isn't adding more to your life... it's walking away from it for a few days.

For the longest time, I was afraid to do something like this. I always thought someone needed to be with me. Whether it was fear, comfort, or simply believing I had to wait on someone else's schedule, solo travel never felt like something I could actually do.

At the same time, I convinced myself that I couldn't step away because there was always something that needed me. I thought I had to finish every task, answer every email, pour into everyone else, show up for every event, and somehow still have enough left to pour into myself.

Spoiler alert...

That day never came.

There will always be another deadline, another responsibility, another person needing something. Somewhere in the middle of taking care of everyone else, I realized I hadn't intentionally taken time away just for me—not the version everyone else knows, not the productive version, not the content creator, not the entrepreneur, not the mom.

Just me.

So this summer, I booked a solo trip.

Not because I was running away from my life.

Because I wanted to return to myself.

People romanticize solo travel all the time, but what they don't tell you is everything that runs through your mind before you ever hit "Book Flight."

Is it safe?

Will I feel lonely?

What if something happens?

Is this selfish?

I asked myself every single one of those questions.

Fear has a funny way of disguising itself as responsibility. It convinces you that waiting is the wise thing to do. It tells you to stay comfortable and choose what's familiar. But over the past few years, I've realized something: almost everything I've prayed for has existed on the other side of fear.

So I booked the ticket anyway.

One thing I've also learned is that healing doesn't always happen inside a therapist's office. Sometimes it happens while watching a sunset in complete silence. Sometimes it's sitting beside a lake with nowhere to be. Sometimes it's driving through the mountains with your favorite playlist, putting your phone down, eating dinner without rushing, or taking pictures simply because the moment deserves to be remembered.

For the first time in a long time, no one needed anything from me.

There were no meetings.

No notifications demanding my attention.

No pressure to perform.

Just me.

And honestly...

That felt unfamiliar at first.

I didn't realize how long I'd been surviving until I finally gave myself permission to simply exist. Creating space forced me to hear my own thoughts again. It reminded me that peace isn't something you stumble upon—it's something you intentionally protect.

One thing I've learned over the past few years is that burnout doesn't always show up as physical exhaustion. Sometimes it looks like constantly overthinking. Sometimes it looks like losing your creativity, feeling disconnected from yourself, or becoming irritated by things that normally wouldn't bother you. Sometimes you wake up one day and realize you've been surviving for so long that you don't even remember what thriving feels like.

I've been there.

Instead of waiting until I completely fell apart, I decided to pause.

I think we've normalized pushing through far more than we should, especially as women, especially as mothers, and especially when we're building something bigger than ourselves. We wear "busy" like it's a badge of honor, but constantly pouring from an empty cup isn't strength.

It's survival.

And I'm no longer interested in just surviving.

I'm choosing to live.

If you're thinking about taking your first solo trip, I'm putting together resources to make it easier.

From packing lists and itineraries to budgeting tips and lessons I learned the hard way, I'll be sharing everything I wish someone had told me before I booked my flight.

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