A Reluctant Enthusiastic Traveler
If only I could teleport to here…
I have spent years of my life traveling; at one point, during the heights of my globe-trotting ski adventures, I spent 8 months on the road in one year. I have always loved travel, and I am certain one of the reasons I pursued professional skiing as a career is because I wanted to see the world—the cold, snowy parts, anyways.
So it’s been puzzling to realize the last several years that it’s hard for me to want to get on a plane. I’m happy to book the travel; I give my future self a lot more credit that she will be ready to go when the time comes. And I’m happy if I’m going with my whole family somewhere, because then we are all in it together, making new memories and creating shared experiences. However, when it comes time for me to drive away from the house solo, headed to the airport even on the most fun (work) ski trip, my feet become lead. My mind races with all of the unforeseen possibilities how things could go wrong, and all of the loose ends I wish I could tie up at home. Maybe if the fridge is stocked I will feel better going! Maybe if the house is spotless! Maybe if I plan ahead and make lists and and and…
The Southern Cross is one of the things one is rewarded with after an overnight flight to South America
But it doesn’t matter. No matter how much I plan ahead, how many meals I have prepped and ready, or how many instructions I’ve barked, there comes a time when I have to just leave.
When I’m on the trip, generally the second I’ve turned out of the driveway and hit play on the podcast, I’m fine. I’m in the moment, I’m on the move. I’m me, out in the world, just a human going to work. But before the trip, I’m the Person Who Is About to Leave, and that’s my least favorite person to be. I am the stressed-out one who is packing; the one who is about to miss out on important things like my kids selling homemade slime at the farmer’s market, a chance they have been waiting and working towards for months.
Must be present to win, or at least see it.
One of the allures of travel is a loss of control, an embracing of spontaneity and going with the flow, being open to new experiences. This is directly at odds with the illusion of control that comes with being a parent.
As a mom, it’s my job to be the keeper of control. Therefore, leaving feels like an abdication of my duties, like I’m skipping the test that I’ve been studying for, and will fail the exam. What before felt like freedom now feels like chains, pulling me away from where I’m supposed to be. The irony of this is that if I didn’t travel for work, I’m sure I would feel the exact opposite, and that I would long to escape and be solo in the world. And the truth of it is once I am on the trip, working and focused, I’m so happy to be there. I know everyone is doing great at home, and I love working and being a part of a team, a woman who has a family but also can be her own person. Once I come home, relieved and exhausted, I question why I was ever anxious about it in the first place. I’m always so happy afterwards that I went!
As I reflect back on last week spent skiing and coaching in Chile, I’m incredibly happy I went. It turns out I still love travel; I just don’t like leaving home.
New friends and old ones are out there if you just leave the house!
