Whenever I am getting ready to head off on a solo trip somewhere, inevitably I find myself conflicted by a range of discordant emotions. There is, of course, the giddy excitement and wonder about what I’ll see and do along the way. But, conversely, there are the feelings at play that work to undermine my positivity. The big one? Guilt.
Guilt : noun
2 b: feelings of deserving blame especially for imagined offenses or from a sense of inadequacy : self-reproach
To put it plainly, guilt is a fucking asshole. And because the feeling is self-induced, ergo I too,… well, you know.
Sometimes the hardest thing about taking a trip is just getting out the front door. The challenge comes from releasing yourself from the must-dos, have-tos and ought-tos. It is in those moments of feeling selishness or self-doubt that I have to remind myself of what it was that pushed me towards making the decision to go in the first place.
Fear, guilt, self-doubt – they’re all just slow and painful ways of poisoning yourself.