A Love/Hate Relationship with Traveling Alone

A Love/Hate Relationship with Traveling Alone

by Isabella Castelo

There’s a special feeling that comes with sitting at an airport alone. It doesn’t matter whether you’re excited about where you’re going or not, there’s still something about it that makes me physically ache with sadness.

This weekend I was in Prague, which was amazingly exhausting and I’m writing to you sitting in an airport on my way to Paris. And despite feeling so lucky to even be able to write that sentence, I have this deep sadness that’s currently manifesting in the form of shaky hands and a pit in my stomach. I have no regrets about this past weekend and am thrilled to be going to Paris, but as I sit here, I really just want to cry. 

If you read my blog last year, you know that I’ve been grappling with my seemingly inevitable life alone and the hopelessness that comes with that, while simultaneously loving being by myself. I’ve spent many years learning the difference between being alone and being lonely, but for some reason in the airport, all this goes down the drain. 

I’m sitting here, forced to watch the thousands of people around me who are either in a rush or waiting, and I’m overwhelmed by how easy it is to come and go. I’m traveling hundreds of miles weekly, visiting new countries for a weekend and then leaving them behind without a trace I was ever there. I assume the same about all the people around me right now. We spend hours planning these trips, hundreds of dollars, a good amount of stress, and then it’s all over in the blink of an eye – well, maybe you have a magnet to remind yourself of your travels. 

I guess this goes to show I haven’t learned much from my first entry this semester and am still afraid of letting these few months abroad become a memory. Obviously, that’s inevitable, but for some reason I feel so guilty about it. I couldn’t be any more grateful, have more fun, or be more excited for the rest of my time in Europe, but I also couldn’t be more uncomfortable with the fact that this could be the last time I’m doing most of this stuff. 

When will I get the opportunity to live in a castle, or celebrate my friend’s birthday in Prague, or warm my butt cheeks on a hot Spanish rock by the ocean? This question is what consumes my mind as I await my impending flight at the terminal, surrounded by all the other people making and leaving memories wherever they go. 

As much as I want to say there’s a lesson I can learn from this, I don’t think there is. Maybe this is just how traveling makes me feel. I have plenty of photos, and these blogs, to eternalize these few months. I’m sure, in the future, I’ll be grateful for those; however, for right now, I wish I could stop thinking about future nostalgia and just play Solitaire at my gate like a normal person.

Love, 

Isabella  

 
 

Photograph: Pinterest

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