Spoiler: It’s not the things you see in True Crime documentaries.
Every time I tell someone I travel alone, there’s a pretty predictable list of questions that follows.
“Aren’t you scared?”
“Don’t you get lonely?”
“What if something happens to you?”
And while I understand the concern, I sometimes wonder what exactly people imagine I’m doing out here. Wandering down dark alleys at midnight? Accepting rides from strangers in unmarked vans? Making questionable decisions in the opening scene of a horror movie?
For the record, I have a healthy appreciation for staying alive.
But in the spirit of Halloween, I thought it would be appropriate to talk about the actually scary parts of solo travel. Because after more than three years of doing this full-time, I’ve realized that the things that scare me most aren’t necessarily the things people warn me about.
And unfortunately, none of them can be solved by simply locking my doors.
The Fear of Being Completely Responsible for Yourself
There’s something incredibly freeing about being able to do whatever you want, whenever you want.
Until you realize that literally everything is your responsibility.
Where you’re staying. How you’re getting there. Whether the neighborhood is safe. What happens when plans fall apart? Who you’re calling when something goes wrong.
There is no designated navigator, no second opinion, and no one automatically stepping in when you’re overwhelmed.
And while I’ve become pretty damn good at figuring things out, that doesn’t mean I always enjoy having to.
Sometimes I would love for someone else to make the dinner reservation, figure out the parking situation, or tell me which direction we’re supposed to be walking.
Not because I’m incapable of doing those things myself, but because being capable of everything doesn’t mean you want to be responsible for everything.
Independence is wonderful. It’s also exhausting sometimes.
The Loneliness Nobody Wants to Admit Exists
I think there’s a misconception that people who enjoy traveling alone must also enjoy being alone all the time, and that couldn’t be further from the truth.
I genuinely love my own company. I’ll take myself to dinner, go to a concert, explore a new city, or spend an entire afternoon doing whatever sounds interesting.
But sometimes I experience something incredible and wish there were someone standing next to me to experience it, too.
Sometimes I want to have a conversation over dinner instead of scrolling through my phone between bites, quietly listening to the conversations around me.
Sometimes I meet people I really connect with, knowing that in a few weeks I’ll be packing my car and leaving again.
There’s a difference between enjoying solitude and never experiencing loneliness.
And I think we do solo travelers a disservice when we pretend those two things can’t exist simultaneously.
I can love the life I’ve created and still wish I had someone to share certain parts of it with.
Both can be true.
The Vulnerability of Always Being the New Person
One thing I don’t think people talk about enough is how much energy it takes to continuously start over.
Every new city means finding your grocery store, your coffee shop, your favorite walking route, and maybe even a few familiar faces.
It means walking into places where everyone else seems to already know someone.
It means introducing yourself over and over again, knowing that some of those connections will last and others will naturally fade once you leave.
There’s something exciting about the possibility of meeting new people, but there’s also something comforting about being known.
Being a regular somewhere. Having friends who don’t need the backstory. Knowing who to call on a random Tuesday because you want to grab a drink.
When you’re constantly moving, those things don’t always come easily.
And sometimes the scariest part isn’t being alone in a new city.
It’s wondering how long it will take before that city starts feeling familiar.
The Pressure to Make Every Experience Worth It
This one might be the sneakiest of them all.
When you’re fortunate enough to travel full-time, there’s this unspoken expectation that you should be making the most of every single day.
There’s always another restaurant to try, another trail to hike, another neighborhood to explore.
And when you know your time in a destination is limited, it becomes ridiculously easy to convince yourself that staying home on a Friday night is somehow wasting an opportunity.
I’ve caught myself treating my free time like an itinerary that needs to be completed.
But the reality is that even when you’re traveling full-time, you’re still living a regular life.
There are workdays, laundry, grocery runs, bad moods, and evenings when putting on pajamas sounds significantly more appealing than another cocktail bar.
Not every day needs to become a memory and not every destination needs to be conquered before you leave.
Sometimes the most enjoyable part of being somewhere is simply getting to exist there.
The Fear of Wondering If You’re Doing Life Wrong
This might be the one that creeps up on me the most.
When your life looks different from the lives of most people around you, it’s easy to occasionally question whether you’re making the right choices.
While other people are buying houses, settling into communities, building relationships, and creating routines, I’m often figuring out which city I’m going to live in three months from now.
And most days, I wouldn’t trade that freedom for anything.
But occasionally I wonder what I’m sacrificing in exchange for it.
Am I missing out on deeper relationships because I’m always leaving? Will I eventually want a more permanent place to call home? Am I building the life I truly want, or have I just become really comfortable with the one I know?
I don’t necessarily have answers to those questions.
And maybe that’s the point.
There’s no guarantee that choosing a more conventional life would eliminate uncertainty, either. It would probably just come with an entirely different set of questions.
Still, there’s something vulnerable about creating a life without a clear roadmap and trusting yourself to recognize when it’s time for that life to change.
Maybe Being Scared Isn’t Such a Bad Thing
For all the uncomfortable moments, unanswered questions, and occasional lonely dinners, I keep choosing this life.
Not because I’ve figured everything out.
Not because I’m fearless.
And certainly not because every experience has been wonderful.
But because I’ve learned that being scared of something doesn’t automatically mean it’s the wrong thing to do.
Sometimes it just means you’re doing something unfamiliar.
And sometimes that unfamiliarity leads to experiences, relationships, and versions of yourself you never would have discovered otherwise.
I think the biggest misconception about solo travel is that you eventually reach a point where nothing scares you anymore.
I don’t think that’s true.
I think you just get better at trusting yourself when it does.
And if there’s one thing I’ve learned after three years of navigating this lifestyle, it’s that I don’t need to have everything figured out to keep moving forward.
So, in the spirit of spooky season, here’s to doing the things that scare us a little.
Preferably with a good cocktail waiting at the end.
Happy Halloween.