I moved out of my country by myself 5 years ago, but solo travel for pleasure still scares me
- I moved from Argentina to the US when I was 32 years old.
- I had no family, friends, or a job, and was looking for a better life like my grandparents did.
When I was 32, I immigrated to the US by myself. I had no family, friends, or job prospects here, but I packed whatever fit from my life in one bag and came here.
Whenever I tell this story, the response is always the same: "You are so brave."
My answer is a humble "nah, I'm not" that I believe in.
I can't really say it was bravery, but a strong conviction to try to do better brought me here. Restarting the cycle that my Italian immigrant grandparents kicked off when they left their country searching for a better life overruled fear.
However, almost five years later, I'm still terrified of solo traveling for pleasure. I haven't taken a single vacation that wasn't going home because I'm scared.
I haven't traveled alone for pleasure
I'm not afraid of flying. I have a consuming ache and curiosity for visiting new places and exploring cultures, but the thought of doing it alone has been paralyzing. Whenever I got close to booking a flight, I found an excuse not to.
I think fear of adventure is an inherent side of the female experience, as we usually find ourselves looking for adjacent factors that could be, at the very least, problematic. Walking alone, getting lost, or sleeping in someone's house doesn't easily detach from the same concerns we grew up having.
There is also an extra financial burden for singles, with no shared expenses and a trickier budget when feeling secure is top priority. But I see all the other women who can travel solo successfully and wish I could be one of them.
But even when making it as safe as I can control situations to be, the thought of a getaway makes me irrationally anxious.
How was leaving a whole life miles away easier than this, a plan that has an end date and it's supposed to be fun?
I'm afraid of feeling lonely
I wonder if I'm scared of my own company being enough to thrive in a life full of obligations with no safety net but not to create a long-lasting memory.
To be honest, I'm alone most of the time, but I'm scared that changing scenarios will make me feel lonely.
If all my self-love speeches can shake that underlying belief that not having a partner to share this experience with makes me undeserving of it. I wonder if spending the money makes sense as if I hadn't been able to make it again multiple times. Or if I don't feel smart enough to make my way in a language I don't speak. Not even to touch on the guilt of using any resources, cash, or PTO days to go anywhere but home.
As an immigrant, I'm used to living in the intersection of uncertainty and discomfort. I've gotten used to feeling lost and disconnected, to constantly missing out on birthdays, holidays, and milestones. I think that after five years, the fear of missing out on my own life is starting to outweigh the fear of adventure.
I make plans, and I say them out loud in the hopes of shedding light on the monster under the bed. I know that when I say I will travel by myself, I will hear something about how brave I am. But this time, instead of shrugging and humbling my way out, I might smile and say, "Yes. I guess I am."