“How are you handling not being able to travel?”
Such a popular question right now. The answer: completely re-examining chunks of my life. An internal spring cleaning if you will. As I’ve been cleaning out junk in my brain’s attic I’ve had to look at my travel “why.” It turns out I don’t travel to escape, I’m actually not a travel addict, and there’s something deeper driving the whole thing.
The first stay-at-home order in March lit up my anxiety motherboard. I couldn’t figure out why I was standing at the window, why I was compulsively walking the loop in the park right behind my house. It had nothing to do with my canceled trips, or with not being able to go out for dinner and drinks. It turns out I felt trapped. And in the past that’s been traumatic for me.
It wasn’t until I saw the article about our new way of living setting off people’s trauma triggers left and right that I figured it out. Mine’s pretty well packed up, secure in its container, doesn’t kick up much of a fuss anymore. I forget it’s there. But over a decade ago I was in an unhealthy relationship. In some of the worst times I was the target of cruel verbal tirades and blocked from leaving the house. In the worst moment, I barricaded myself in a room. I wish I could tell you that the time I stared him down, fists balled and ready to explode before I shoved past, was the last, that I drove away and didn’t come back. But it wasn’t. As is the case for most of us at some point in our lives, I stayed far too long.
” My body remembers the exact feel of escape. And traveling ain’t it.”
When I did leave, I took a few new things with me. I was able to slough off the words flung at me that I knew weren’t my truth. But as any trauma therapist and client can tell you, the body remembers. My slight discomfort with elevators has grown to a solid weight in my chest. Careless horseplay with my gentle husband has me scrapping mad when I’m stuck in a corner. I don’t do window seats anymore (except for that one time I had a business seat that was both window AND aisle.) And, apparently, I get all sorts of itchy when I have to stay in my comfortable house. I also learned that my body remembers the exact feel of escape. And traveling ain’t it.
Insidious trauma is like a knot in your back. You can pretend the pain isn’t there, that you aren’t holding yourself stiffly, that you haven’t adjusted every part of your motion. But, if you acknowledge it, apply some gentle pressure, something happens. Sure, there’s some pain and you are acutely AWARE. And then…it releases.
I finally put pressure on that 16-year-old knot that I hardly ever talk about. Even after I read that article and figured out why I was so fidgety in my home, I still didn’t really own it. Then I was listening to the incomparable Lola Akinmade Akerstrom talking about life and travel content at today’s Women In Travel Summit Online conference. “Drop your facades,” she said as we looked at how travel is the medium for creativity, “what does this [time] show me about myself?”
That’s when the universe leaned over and flicked me on the forehead. This time shows me I’ve been doing what I do best, expertly dodging injuries with pat justifications. Ignoring things. I hadn’t even noticed that I used to be comfortable with things that are off-limits now. And wait, what was Lola saying? Something about pots of water on a stove, and how travel is just the biggest burner that gets water boiling fastest, but not the water itself? That there are deeper, uncovered things? Great.
I thought I travel to escape. And there’s nothing wrong with that, but it doesn’t ring true for me. I’m not fleeing from something but rather rushing towards something. (Don’t get me wrong, there are times I didn’t want to come back to reality.)
I thought I was addicted to travel, but that’s not true either. Because I’m also living the other lessons of my early 20’s: how I lived lean, enjoyed what I had around me, and found adventure where I could. So I don’t know what in the hell is boiling in that pot, the greater purpose, except that it’s a more profound, and far more enjoyable, challenge than I realized. I guess I’ll keep kneading knots and see what releases.
And maybe I’ll even try a window seat on the next flight.
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What are you learning about yourselves? What is the water boiling in your pots? Any other “travel to escape” adventurers with a few more layers? See below to pin if you’d like to mull it over!
May the roads of life rise to meet you, friends, and may the knots in your backs loosen.
Wanna take some new realizations into tangible plans? Grab a Dragontree Rituals of Living Dreambook Planner. It’s been making my goals happen for 5 years.
I have no idea how I missed this piece of yours back in May 2020. I’m so glad I found it now. I love your writing. This one is my favorite.
Oh my, You made me think about my own life, which is what all good writing does. In this case, I recall the contents of the cerebral closet where I keep the worst of the pain and injury in my life. Long ago, I’ve brought them out one by one and examined them, as you are doing here. It helped me learn who I am and why, and why there are things I prefer to keep in that closet.
Well done, and well written.
Very kind words. Thank you so much!
I never did like that jerk!
And I’ve always appreciated that loyalty! Lessons learned.