Chapter 11: May
I don't like travelling the way I used to
Hi friend,
Turquoise water. Sandy beaches dotted with towels and umbrellas. Cliffs and hills along the coastline. Steep mountains (we hiked Snowdon!) surrounded by waterfalls and lakes. Dark slate rock on them all. Colourful buildings. Cool castles. Warm coffee shops. A lunch spot run by a Canadian (and with homemade Nanaimo bars!). Not-so-great dinner options. A picnic in bed, instead. And a lot of love and laughter, with the best adventure partner I could ask for.
We’re back from an incredible week in Wales. And while I’m normally happy to return home from a trip, I actually felt some post-vacation blues this time. A little anxious. A little sad. Quick to tear-up. I don’t need or want to dissect it. They were just feelings and they passed, the way feelings do. But it’s safe to say that’s one of the best trips I’ve been on… certainly the best trip with a partner. And it would be too easy to say it’s because of the person or the place. I actually think it’s because we both took (and take) such good care of ourselves.
As you know, I don’t like to tell other people’s stories. I’m always trying to think about how I can share something that’s true about my life in a way that protects anyone involved. And what’s true for me is: something I value in my romantic partnership is that I can trust Tall Man will take care of himself and his mental health. I trust he will do the things he needs to do, in order to feel most like himself. And I trust he wants me to do the same for myself, too.
From the beginning, there’s been a clear understanding that, yes, we are in a partnership and our relationship is important. But our relationships with ourselves are important to us too—and to each other. I want TM to feel connected to himself, and I know he wants me to do the same. And, the more we feel connected to ourselves, the more we bring ourselves (and the best parts of ourselves) into our relationship. (At least, that’s how it feels for me!)
The way we do this looks different, because we are two different people. TM has his things. And on my end, some of the ways I took care of myself on this trip included: having slow mornings, not feeling attached to many plans, and hiking at my own pace. (I can be a slow hiker, and if I just let that be true rather than wishing I were different, I have so much more fun—and don’t hurt myself.) But there’s another way I took care of myself, before we even hit the road:
We decided to stay in most places for longer than 1 night. That was a we decision, not a me decision. But even if TM hadn’t been on board, I would’ve advocated for it. Because something I’ve learned about myself, over the years, is that I don’t like moving around quickly. It’s actually terrible for my mental health. A one-night getaway is different, because you know it’s a tiny adventure! But when you’re in a new place every night for 5, 6, 7+ nights in a row… my body and mind just don’t do well. There’s no time to settle in. No time to find a rhythm. No time to feel connected (I can even dissociate) or really understand where I am.
So, when I read chapter 11 of THE YEAR OF LESS, where I outlined what it was like to be away from home for 24 of 31 days that month… and to have been in so many different places (Port Moody, Toronto, Victoria, NYC, Boston and Cambridge, back to NYC, Philly, Washington, DC—2 nights in 2 different hotels, and we also dipped down to Virginia to visit an old blogging friend). Well, reading this chapter was exhausting… and I finished it knowing the only thing I wanted to update you on is that I do not like travelling the way I used to. I’m not even sure I liked travelling that way back then.
Chapter 11: May (2015)
By “that way” I mean: fast-paced. Moving around constantly, not being anywhere for very long. On the one hand, I’m good at it—which feels weird to say but also feels true. I’m good at packing a bag, I’m good at taking my life wherever it needs to go, I’m good at connecting with the people I spend time with in these places. I think these are skills I learned as a kid, moving around as often as I did, and also having a dad who travelled for work too. I know how to live out of a bag. And in a way, it’s something I still do every week when I head over to Tall Man’s house (though his house also feels like home).
But there was a period of my life where I was travelling so much, I was sometimes home for as few as 4 days per month. In May 2015, I was home for 7 days. There were things I liked about it—experiencing so many new places, and spending time with my people in each one. But then I struggled with other aspects of it.
I could never seem to establish healthy routines—with personal habits, exercise, food, etc. My sleep was all over the map, with the constant timezone changes. I always felt like I wasn’t actually getting to see anyone often enough, or for as long as I wanted. Like our time together always ended too soon. And trying to build a local community wherever I lived felt impossible. How can you make friends or have a relationship or integrate yourself into a community when you’re constantly saying: sorry, I’m leaving next week, but I’ll be back in 10 days… or 2-3 weeks… or I’ll be in-and-out of town constantly for the next three months, but I’ll message you next time I’m home and we will find a date that works!
I’m lucky that I found a few friends who did make that work, but most of my relationships were fairly surface level—I suppose, by choice. I wasn’t building a life anywhere. I was living a series of great one-off interactions. That’s a distinction I don’t think I understood until a 6-week trip to the UK in 2018, where I learned the hard way that I had to stop moving around at such a quick pace (more on this next week). I learned more when I decided to spend 4 months in one city (Cardiff) in 2019, rather than continue to hop around. I learned even more when I spent 2 years with my family during the pandemic. And more again, when I immigrated to the UK in 2022 and rented my first home. I’ve barely left since.
I wasn’t building a life anywhere. I was living a series of great one-off interactions.
Travelling and getting to see the world (and all your favourite people in it) is a gift. It’s something I’d wanted to do since I was a teenager, but didn’t have the money for it because I was always going into debt for other things. I finally went on my first solo trip when I was 28, and it changed me forever. I know I want to continue to travel—both solo and with my people—for as long as I can. And, when I reflect on my first few years of solo travel now, I can see something I didn’t see back then. Something I haven’t shared with anyone yet… because it feels incredibly vulnerable to admit: