Traveling with Steamer-Trunk-Sized Emotional Baggage

People always say you can’t run away from your problems, but I’ve done a pretty damn good job of it over the years. When life gets messy, travel. When life turns catastrophic, move. I took Cher’s mantra in Mermaids (a classic) to heart: “Death is dwelling on the past or staying in one place too long.”

But now I’m traveling for a year and moving every month, and I’m starting to realize that there might be some truth in that old saying. While I’m not even a little bit sorry I came on this trip, it is highlighting–and even exacerbating–some of the issues I had before I left. Here are five pieces of baggage I’m hauling around the globe with me:

1. I’m still perpetually, painfully single.

I’ve been single for thirteen years now. There have been lowercase-r relationships, varying in seriousness, some of which have lasted years. But the last time I had an official boyfriend, I was 20. And I’m not going to sugarcoat it, that’s fucking miserable. 

I have enjoyed taking some of the pressure off dating. Before I left New York, I was working with a matchmaker–a longer story for another day, but spoiler alert, it didn’t work–and dating was starting to feel like a job that I hated. Since now I’m here today and gone tomorrow, I can look at dating as more of a fun activity than a search for my life partner. 

But, as it turns out, bad dates are bad everywhere. It sucks to get dressed up and excited and then have a guy show you pictures of another girl or walk away when you say rape jokes aren’t funny. And, while some pressure is off, I still had a lot of giggling girlfriends convinced I’d fall in love on this trip. So yes, it’s stinging a bit to watch two of my fellow travelers fall for each other while romance continues to elude me.

2. I’m still terrible with large groups.

My kindergarten carpool. Fifth grade student council. My high school debate team. The sorority I joined in college. Junior League, most recently. I have a lifelong history of not playing well in group settings. One-on-one, I’m good. Small groups of five or six, I can handle, if the right people are involved. But once you get into double digits, my introverted, Type A, fun-fest of a personality makes things tough.

Unfortunately, I’m not quite introverted enough to eschew the group all together and stay in my room or travel alone for the year–I’m about a 55/45 introverted/extroverted split. So I want people around, but not all the time, and if there are too many of them I feel awkward. Super easy, right?

And I have Very Firm opinions about what I like and dislike and how I want to spend my time–especially with just a few weeks in each location, life’s too short to do things I have no interest in or to eat bad food. But I’m not always great at asserting these opinions with people who aren’t my close friends, and I wind up feeling either steamrolled and frustrated or bitchy and persnickety. 

So while there are many awesome people in this group, and everything has been very well run so far, just dealing with the day-to-day group issues of where are we going to go, okay see you there, no wait he wants to go here, oh she’s coming too, never mind we’re doing that instead…it’s exhausting. I suspect that this is good for me, but I’m struggling.

3. I still feel time passing too quickly.

Listen, I know mid-thirties isn’t that old, but it’s not that young either. I’m writing this blog post as I lie in bed with what I’ve self-diagnosed as a knee injury common to overweight, middle-aged women. SIGH. 

And while the average age on this trip is about 30, praise be, that still puts me in the older half of the group, which I feel particularly keenly since a few of the people with whom I’ve been spending the most time are the youngest in the group. Those 7-8 years aren’t stopping us from being friends, but they do make a difference at this stage in life. 

I hate when people say, “I’m too old for that!,” but yeah…my recovery time isn’t what it used to be. And while I certainly can still go to the club, the amount that I want to has greatly decreased in the last decade. Wine bars are nice. 

4. I still question what I want out of life.

With this rapidly accelerating passage of time comes the oh-shit-what-am-I-doing-with-my-life feeling. Right now, I’m traveling the world. Yay me! People have subtly (and not so subtly) reminded me though that I can’t do this forever.

Or can I?

I have no idea, really. I love New York, but I find it overpriced and draining. I love my job, but publishing is increasingly improbable, and I don’t know whether I’ll be one of the lucky few who survives. When my mom was my age, she was married with three kids. That’s not what I want from life, but I haven’t entirely sorted out what I want instead. Travel increases my introspection, which means I’m asking myself this question more, even if perhaps I should be asking it less, since I have such a great answer for now. 

5. I still struggle with anxiety and depression.

This one colors everything else, and vice versa. I don’t take medication (personal choice! zero judgment!), but I’ve been in therapy for basically my entire life, and I was seeing two different therapists simultaneously for a while in New York. Now I’m out in the world with new stressors and without my usual coping mechanisms. I’ve started having trouble sleeping again–my usual mental health indicator–and I’ve had a couple of near-panic attacks in the last week.

I’m not saying this to scare anyone (Mom, I’m fine), but it’s something I didn’t think about much before I set out on this adventure, and I think it’s important to be candid about mental health. I’m taking steps in the right direction–setting up a Skype session with my therapist, meditating, reading for pleasure–and there are things I need to do better–exercise consistently, set clearer boundaries with the group. I want to make this work, but it’s a huge adjustment.

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Let’s be clear: this trip is awesome. I fell in love with Barcelona–the food, the schedule, the fake-old architecture. And while Prague doesn’t thrill me in the same way, I just had the coolest theater experience in the little town of Cesky Krumlov. I love discovering new things, and traveling in this way keeps the novelty coming at a rapid pace. 

But awesome isn’t perfect, and I’m still me, which means I’m cranky and reactive and particular in addition to curious and smart and loyal. So don’t freak out if my social media isn’t a nonstop feed of EVERYTHING IS ALWAYS AMAZING–because that would be bullshit. I hope that this year will change me in ways I can’t yet foresee and help me grow as a person. But there are always some growing pains.