SUNSHINE AURA – self-esteem. self-love. self-actualization. 

For most of my life, I have had the privilege to be able to travel. Family weekenders heading up to the mountains, lazy Spring Breaks spent by the pool in Phoenix, and one very special to trip to Disney during a season when it rained every single day. Things changed by the time I reached my later teens and early-twenties, though, and any trip was overshadowed by the anxiety of how I was going to pay for it all.

It was not until my early twenties that I first went to Europe, and by then the safety net of a middle-class family income I’d grown up on was completely gone. I put the entire trip on a credit card, which took me almost four years to finally pay off. (But it was worth it). Flash forward a few more years and slowly building up my career, and here I am able to comfortably afford trips here in the US and abroad.

I want to start by recognizing that travel is indeed a privilege, and I know it is not something readily available to everyone. I will write another post on that topic later, and what I wish I had done when money was scarce. But for now, I do want to express understanding that travel is not the best or most accessible way for everyone uncover more of themselves.

Now, let’s dive in.

I am newly 30 years old, or 30 years old and two months, as I like to say. I am single, not actively desiring a serious relationship, and my closest friends don’t have as flexible a schedule as I do with work. My sister also lives halfway around the world in Europe.

The last few years, I have recognized internal nudges, pushing me to try new things or get out of my comfort zone. Believe me, I have tried to the best of my ability, over the voice of fear inside, to listen to those nudges, and every now and then, I honor them. I go on a date with someone new. I try out a new exercise class. I express my honest feelings to someone.

So in late 2022 when I had this nudge, urging me to book a trip and go somewhere, completely solo, I freaked out. I shut down that nudge and packed it away. I cannot go somewhere all alone, I told myself. Hell, I’d never even taken myself out to dinner alone nor sat at a bar alone. I come from a family with pretty close-knit women, and I was used to doing most things with someone else. And when it came to travel specifically, my sister was my safety net. She’s been all over the world, is intelligent and savvy, and fearless. Most places we travel to, I can count on her to lead the way like Hermione leading Harry and Ron, full of determination and assuredness.

In early 2023, after pre-ordering my copy of Jay Shetty’s “8 Rules of Love,” the book finally arrived and I dived in. There was an entire section about loving yourself and strategies for developing that further. I actually did take the book’s advice, and I booked myself a solo class at a local art studio to paint. That is an activity that I love (I’m not a great artist or anything, just for fun), and I don’t really know anyone who would want to do it with me. I attended the small class of four people, and I recall at first feeling slightly uncomfortable, sitting at the little fold-out table in the back of the art store’s studio, by myself. Once I relaxed into it, however, I enjoyed myself. I enjoyed the quiet. The absence of a need to speak or think, or really interact, unless I felt like it. I wasn’t rude to anyone – no, not at all – but I was enjoying keeping my own company.

Another part of that section in Jay Shetty’s book suggested going out to dinner alone or even going on a solo trip. Both of those suggestions felt way too extreme for me. Which is kind of silly, now that I think about it. But truly, the thought of taking myself to dinner was terrifying. I’d taken myself out to lunch, but why did that feel fine? Perhaps because on work days, a bunch of people do that. It’s considered normal. Eating dinner alone, though? There’s a stigma that says eating alone means you are alone, and people feel sorry for you. Which by the way, is completely untrue. Nobody cares that you are out eating alone, no matter what time of day it is. Trust me. But, I didn’t know that at the time.

And the thought of booking a solo trip! Even more than eating dinner alone, that felt too extreme. Sure, I’ve gone in Ubers and traveled to visit others alone many times, even spending time in the city whilst they worked – no sweat. But a full-on trip, alone? That felt a bit out of reach. And if I did travel alone, where would I go? As a woman, that was a scary prospect to consider. So, I read through the rest of that section, and told myself maybe one day, I would give solo travel a try.

A very short time passed, and I just could not stop thinking about solo travel. I equally felt fear and excitement at the prospect. I challenged the thoughts in my mind. Why can’t I travel solo? I asked myself. I am smart, capable, can finally afford it, and there’s places I want to see now. Underlying those fearful thoughts was another voice, one that said I may never want to have a serious romantic partner, or get the opportunity to be married, and I didn’t want to wake up one day full of regret that I didn’t just go.

I have a long history of denying myself the things I really want. I’m sure it goes back to my childhood and is rooted in family dynamics, like so many of our traumas are. I challenged myself on this topic daily, and I finally gave in. I decided I would go somewhere alone, and I would go this year. I would no longer wait for life to happen. I would no longer plan to do things in a future that honestly may never arrive.

At the time I booked my first solo trip, I was 29. I knew I would be having my 30th birthday later in the summer, so I planned the trip for just after hitting that birthday milestone. I mulled over where to go. I was willing to get out of my comfort zone, but I wasn’t quite willing to go super duper far out of my comfort zone. Thus, I decided on staying in the US. I wanted to pick a city that would enrich me. Somewhere I could do my favorite thing endlessly, without worrying about anyone else’s wants or needs. My favorite thing to do is learn. I love history, art, nature, animals and people. I’d always wanted to go to Washington, DC. I booked the flight just a few heartbeats after deciding that was the place.

I’m not ashamed to say I am careful, and preparing/planning make me feel a bit more in control of things. I wouldn’t call myself a control freak, but I do like to have a manifest, if you will, like a pilot plotting their flight plan from point A to B. So, I spent a great deal of time researching the DC neighborhoods, finding somewhere that appeared to be safe for a woman traveling solo, plenty of food places within walking distance that were different and intriguing, and easy access to the metro/bus lines for heading into the city.

I promised myself I would give myself the gift of truly being on my own, so I booked an AirBnb in the Mt. Pleasant neighborhood. Not a hotel. I scanned through the reviews of several options before landing on the perfect little apartment, wherein women actually commented they had stayed at for their own solo trip. I would need to ride the metro or bus into the city (metro wasn’t new for me, but I sheepishly admit I’d never taken the bus on my own, growing up in the suburbs). I’d plan dinners out ahead of time and face the dreaded experience of eating dinner alone – not once, not twice, but three times! And I’d spend a deliciously long amount of hours each day in the city, landmark-to-landmark, museum-to-museum, experiencing as much as I possibly could in the limited amount of time I had.

After booking the trip, I felt excited and empowered! Flash-forward several months, turning 30, and the trip coming up in only one-short month. Honestly, I started freaking out. Did I truly pick a safe neighborhood to stay in? Would it be too scary eating dinner out all alone? Would I be able to figure out how the door code worked to get into the AirBnb? Was I spending too much money? And most embarrassingly, but I’ll just be honest, would I figure out how to ride the bus? Even writing this now, I’m laughing at myself! Such ridiculous nonsense and fear, but I share honestly, because someone else who’s mulling over their first solo trip must share these concerns (I hope).

I reminded myself that this is exactly what getting out of your comfort zone is all about: facing new situations, stepping willingly into the unknown, and holding on to the hope that your reward will be a much-needed change within you at the molecular level. I finished booking the trip, including reservations (for free I should add! I’ll do another post specifically about DC travel later) for museums, the White House, Capitol, and a full itinerary for dinners. Mt. Pleasant has a great variety of food you don’t see much where I’m from, including Filipino, Mediterranean, and Thai food.

At long last, the trip arrived. I woke up around 3am to drive myself to the airport and catch my early flight. Flying is my favorite, so no fear there. The discomfort I previously felt about the trip seemed to be dissolving as I read “Eat, Pray, Love” by Elizabeth Gilbert on my outbound flight. It seemed like a very appropriate read for this trip, and I highly recommend her book. As we got closer and closer, my excitement rose. I landed at the airport and took an Uber out to the AirBnb. Sure enough, the door code was disgustingly easy to handle, and I couldn’t believe I’d been so worried about something so trivial!

And from there, my trip began.

I spent the days wandering around literally as many museums as I possibly could. Everywhere I visited in DC was entirely free, and apart from a few things that did require advance planning, like visiting the White House, most places you could pop into on a whim, no reservation required. I learned so much from the US Holocaust Memorial Museum and the National Museum of African American History and Culture, my heart soared at the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum, and I had intimate conversations with myself as I walked the length of the National Mall, taking time to explore the outdoor World War II Memorial.

Turns out, DC was the perfect place for me to travel solo. It had everything I was looking for, and things I didn’t know I needed. But I’ll save that for a later post. This post is about what I learned traveling solo. I learned that being alone is a gift. With nobody else to interact with, unless you would like, your mind has the opportunity to just rest. My mind rested in a way I don’t think I’ve ever felt. I’ve never lived alone, so I haven’t had the chance to feel that way. It was the least I think I’ve ever spoken in my entire life. My internal dialogue was still present, but more focused and gentle than ever.

When I was alone, I learned I’m actually a very calm soul. I still am quite calm, but I’ve always been a bit of a “performer.” That friend who is always talking, joking, trying to keep the conversation going. I’m naturally protective of others, and especially those I care about. But being alone? I had more patience than ever. In a large crowd, I didn’t feel the need to push through and be at the front of the line, or to walk quickly all the time. I meandered my way through the city with ease and slow intention. When I was alone, I didn’t feel the urge to protect, and I was thus able to just blend in and be.

I also learned that I can get lost in learning for hours, far more hours than I ever would do with others. I’m a big believer in caring well for your body, and I did a great job of carrying a reusable water bottle and filling it throughout the day. But I realized I’d go hours without a snack or meal, so entrenched in what I was learning and seeing. The museums in DC held a lot of emotional history, human history, and it captured me fully. Until my stomach finally growled loudly enough for me to hear, I’d be unaware of my hunger, lost in learning. That never happens when I’m with others.

And the very first night, I finally faced a big fear of mine. I went to dinner, alone. I chose a Thai restaurant about a ten minute walk from my AirBnb. The neighborhood was alive for a weeknight, and most places kept the cool open-air dining trend that awakened during the Covid days, with sweet little outdoor dining areas set up in the streets. I arrived at the restaurant, and to ease into this new experience, asked for a table outside. There were a few tables with people around me, and I took a seat. Nobody seemed to care or even notice I was alone, and I laughed at myself for being so insecure about this.

However, it did feel odd. I challenged myself to not resort to looking at my phone. I caved a few times, texting friends back home. But then, I bucked up and put my phone in my purse. I folded my hands and rested my chin gingerly on them, as I nonchalantly scoped out the scene around me. People inside ate happily, the couple near me seemed to be enjoying a really nice conversation, and I appreciated how their relationship appeared to be founded upon a deep friendship. Don’t ask me how I knew that, I just did. And the two women at another table next to me discussed therapy and how one of the girls previously had an eating disorder.

As I waited for my food to arrive, I couldn’t stop taking sips of water, and then the tasty alcoholic drink I ordered next. I felt like I had nothing to do with my hands or mouth being there all alone. When my food came, it was a rush of relief, having something to do. And wow, it was the best pad Thai I’d ever eaten. I focused on enjoying the meal and relaxing into the state of being alone. Once I relaxed, that delicious feeling of mental rest returned, and I actually enjoyed myself. I ate slowly, savoring every bite. I noticed my senses working and sending me information I usually ignore, or am too distracted to even notice. The texture of the food, the flavors, the way my stomach slowly became full. I finished my meal, paid, and walked home. I settled in for the night, checked all the doors were locked twice, and slept that first night like a baby.

My first solo trip taught me that who I am when I’m around others is not necessarily the same girl I am when I’m alone. When I was alone, I carried myself differently. I walked with ease, took my time, didn’t feel the need to “beat” others in line or to see the artifacts first, etc. I ate my food slower and with more intention and joy. I felt little wins over and over again, as I tried new things or did familiar things alone. I noticed the world around me so much more than normal. Only having myself as company, I felt the sun more strongly, I noticed other people and peeked in on their conversations more, I felt safety at knowing I would protect myself, and I felt the freedom to really soak in everything I did. There was nobody else’s wants or needs to worry about, only my own.

And most surprising of all, I realized when I am alone, I am a very calm and confident woman. I saw that reflected in the way I interacted with strangers and in the way strangers looked at me passing by. I felt it in the way I didn’t experience anxiety or stress spikes on the trip, not even at times where I was lost and my phone was literally at 10% battery. I felt it in the way I didn’t feel the need to be anything for anyone. It was as if I had tapped into my higher self, and she said, this is who you really are – find a way to take me home with you.

Again, I know that travel is a privilege, but if you are able to make it happen, even just a simple road trip, I encourage you to take a solo trip. Or even a solo day trip. See who you are when you are alone. And if you have already done a solo trip, let me know in the comments where you went, and what you learned. I would love to read about your experience.

If you made it this far, thank you for reading, and there is more content like this to come.

With love,

Kayla

p.s. I already have my next solo trip planned, and I’ll be back to share that experience, too!