Finding Home in Yourself: How Solo Travel Changed My View on Loneliness

I once heard someone say that joy needed a witness, that happiness was only real when it was shared.

I never agreed with this until I went on a solo trip halfway across the world.

To be honest, when I first wrote this I said the exact opposite. I went on about how I grew to love being alone and felt immense freedom. I had successfully felt joy being all by myself. The more I read it, the less it resonated with me. It actually kind of made me want to slap that person across the face. How could I write something so false?

The thing is, I didn’t realize it was false when I was writing it. I liked to see myself as an Elizabeth Gilbert Eat, Pray, Love type who booked the solo trip and was forever changed. Or the traveler who seamlessly hops around the world urges you to “fall in love with your own company!” I wanted to claim that I was able to find all the fulfillment I needed in seeing new places and in no one else. I really believed that I did.

The year leading up to this trip was a time of newfound solitude. Going from University to traveling with my best friend, I rarely had a moment where I was alone. I lived with five girls for five years, always having social connections within arm’s reach. After leaving the comfortable cocoon of my college town, I was introduced to a new friend called loneliness.

I unconsciously ran from this unwanted companion, picking up and constantly moving around, never truly feeling settled in my new home. I thought I could distract myself enough that it would just go away. This would work, the presence vanishing as I planned weekend trips to visit friends or made myself busy with meaningless work.

But alas, it was always there to greet me when the festivities were over like a reliable welcome home. It tapped on my door, begging me to let it inside.

I plotted and planned my ultimate getaway, booking a ticket halfway across the world where it could not follow me. I was going to conquer loneliness and prove just how well I do on my own. I packed my bags and went on my way, finally feeling freedom from my invisible counterpart.

But there it was, following me from a distance, waiting for the right moment to latch on and make its presence known. It consumed my mind with flashbacks of traveling with my best friend, seeing her outline in the chair across from me that was now empty. The unsettled feeling only grew stronger the further I ran from it, growing powerful from my resistance. It made sure I knew it was there no matter how many people I surrounded myself with.

I finally gave up. I let it inside and surrendered to it’s cold embrace, feeling its hollow chill run through me. Defeated, I sat with it and offered it a cup of tea. I invited it to come out with me the next day.

I was not going to win this battle by outrunning or outsmarting it. So, I allowed my loneliness to join me, accepting it as part of myself. It turned out to be pretty good company. When I allowed myself the permission to experience life with no witness, I no longer felt the weight of being alone. I actually, truly enjoyed it.

The days I spent with myself felt sacred. I went to new cities, took pictures, and allowed myself to move at my own pace. I wrote, ate good food, and talked to whoever I could.

Being someone who usually goes with the flow of other people’s plans, I felt proud of myself for being intentional with my time. I was no longer able to get external validation or security, forcing me to find comfort and home within myself alone.

But here’s the truth- Even though I enjoyed my time alone, I don’t think I can claim that I felt joy alone. I now realize being comfortable and being truly happy are two different things.

Just because I had built a home in myself did not mean I needed to lock the front door and hide the key. I hated to admit it, but my company alone was still not enough. I felt peace but craved connection. I felt like I was failing at the whole solo traveling thing. Meeting people and then going our separate ways became harder and harder each time.

But I moved along, finding refuge in the house I built in myself until fate decided to plop someone else on my doorstep. And it did. When I least expected, my path crossed with family and old friends which filled me to the brim with excitement. I met new friends that I now hold close to my heart. I was on a city tour alone when I met Anna, a fellow solo traveler that I instantly connected with. We did not separate once for weeks until our tearful goodbye as I headed to the airport to go home. I carry all these moments closer than any place I saw.

Traveling alone made me accept that I can be content on my own while still needing others to find joy and happiness. This does not diminish my independence. Like many things, there is a balance. (Most do not need to fly across the world to discover these things, but that’s besides the point.)

I have found that life will bring people into your world if you are willing to put yourself in a position to meet them. And sometimes you have to be willing to be alone in order to be in those positions. I remind myself of this as I anxiously wonder what will come next in my life. So to myself and anyone who needs it:

Go do the things you want to do- even if it means going alone. I can’t promise that the shadow of loneliness will leave you alone on the way. It will knock on your door, begging to come in when you least expect it. Do not run or let this discourage you. Invite it inside, sit with it, then let it go on it’s way.