By Faith Nyongesa
There wasn’t any dramatic trigger, breakup, midlife crisis, or viral moment of rebellion; it was just a quiet, slow realization that my life didn’t feel like mine. It was more peaceful than that.
I used to fill my calendar with plans, surround myself with people, and keep busy to avoid the silence. But somewhere in that noise, I lost touch with myself. I began to crave something different, not escape, but space, not a vacation, but presence.
The idea of travelling alone scared me. I had never even eaten at a restaurant alone, let alone crossed borders solo. But the fear whispered something important: maybe what I was afraid of was exactly what I needed.
My journey isn’t a story of perfection. It’s a story of learning how I understood my rhythm, strength, and worth through being alone.
If you’ve ever wondered what solo travel can give you beyond the beautiful backdrops, I hope my journey helps light a path.
The Moment I Decided to Travel Alone
It didn’t happen all at once.
The thought lingered for months, a quiet nudge in the back of my mind every time I saw a solo travel blog or scrolled past a photo of a woman smiling alone in some distant place. I’d pause longer than I should, wondering what that kind of freedom might feel like. But then I’d tell myself, “That’s not me.”
I had always played it safe. I followed the rules, stayed close to home, and kept things predictable. But one day, sitting in a crowded coffee shop with noise and a hollowness I couldn’t explain, I realized something painful: I felt disconnected from my life.
That was the moment.
Not dramatic. Not loud. But something in me shifted like a small door quietly opening. I didn’t know where I would go or how I’d pull it off. I knew I needed to be alone somewhere far from everything I knew. Not to escape my life but to step outside it long enough to see it.
A few weeks later, I booked a flight. One ticket. One backpack. No grand plan. Just a deep, stubborn hope that this decision, terrifying as it was, might be the beginning of something honest.
What I Was Looking For
When I first decided to travel alone, I thought I was looking for adventure. I imagined grand views, spontaneous moments, and the freedom of being far from home. I expected the thrill of new experiences and discovering unfamiliar places.
But I didn’t realize that what I truly needed was something quieter.
The turning point came on my second day in a small village in Spain. The streets were narrow, lined with old stone buildings that seemed to tell stories of the past. I didn’t know anyone. I didn’t speak the language. I was just another face in a city full of strangers.
That morning, I sat down at a small café in the town square. I felt out of place and awkward. Around me, people sat together, couples, families, and friends, sharing their breakfast. I felt alone and isolated, with only my cup of coffee to keep me company.
I sat there, alone with my coffee, not doing much. After a while, I stopped feeling awkward. I just watched a waiter laughing with someone, a napkin lifting in the breeze, and an older woman a few tables away, reading her Newspaper as she did daily. Nothing special was happening. But I felt calm. For once, being alone didn’t feel like something was missing. It just felt right.
I finished my coffee slowly, letting the calm of the morning wash over me. At that moment, I understood that solo travel wasn’t about escaping or filling a void. It was about finding space to reconnect with myself. I could feel whole, even without anyone else by my side.
It was a quiet lesson: I didn’t need adventure to feel alive. I just needed to be fully present with myself. That moment planted the roots of my solo travel motivation.
The Highs and Lows of Going Solo
Solo travel brings a kind of freedom that’s hard to describe until you’ve felt it. Waking up and knowing the day is entirely yours. There are no schedules to follow, no compromises to make, and no one else’s preferences to weigh against your own.
I could wander through the streets without worrying if someone else was bored. I could spend an hour staring at the sea or change plans on a whim. That kind of freedom made me feel light, even brave.
But it wasn’t all easy. There were moments when I felt deeply alone. Eating alone at a restaurant still felt strange sometimes. There were evenings when the silence in my hotel room felt too loud. And there were days when the weight of decision-making, even for small things, felt heavier than I expected.
Still, even those challenging moments taught me something. They forced me to be honest with myself. To sit with discomfort instead of running from it. I want to ask, “What do I want right now?” instead of waiting for someone else to lead the way.
There were also unexpected joys like making eye contact with a stranger, sharing a smile, getting lost, and accidentally discovering something beautiful. I found peace in routines that were entirely mine: my morning walks, journaling at cafés, and watching the sunset in silence.
The highs gave me confidence. The lows gave me depth. And both reminded me that I could carry myself not perfectly but fully.
How It Changed Me
Travelling alone didn’t just teach me how to read train schedules or navigate new cities; it taught me how to trust myself. Being in unfamiliar places, making decisions independently, and learning to enjoy my company made me realize I was stronger and more capable than I thought.
Before this, I often looked outside myself for direction, approval, and comfort. But when you’re in a new country, you can’t wait for someone else to decide. You are the plan. You are the comfort. And slowly, that becomes enough.
I stopped apologizing for wanting stillness, changing plans, and choosing what made me feel good, even if it made no sense to anyone else. I started to value my voice more. I no longer needed to explain or justify every choice.
Even after I got back home, something had shifted. I wasn’t suddenly fearless but I stood straighter. I didn’t rush to fill the silence like I used to. I found myself sitting with it, even welcoming it. The noise I used to crave, constant plans, and continuous company didn’t feel as necessary anymore. That surprised me.
Personal growth travel gave me that shift by helping me meet myself more clearly.
Solo travel didn’t fix everything but gave me a doorway to myself. And walking through it? That felt like coming home in a way I hadn’t expected.
A Message to Anyone Considering It
If you’re thinking about travelling alone but feel unsure, I understand. Choosing yourself in such a bold, visible way can be scary. It’s easier to wait for the right time or for someone to accompany you. But I’ve learned that clarity rarely comes from waiting; it comes from doing.
You don’t need to have it all figured out. You don’t need to be fearless. You need to be curious enough to try. Start small. A weekend away. A walk in a different part of your city. See how it feels to be your own company.
You might feel awkward. You might get lonely sometimes. But you might also feel something else, a kind of quiet joy, a sense of possibility you haven’t felt in a long time.
Solo travel won’t make you someone new. It helps you remember who you are underneath all the noise. And that is a homecoming worth taking the road alone for.
Conclusion
Traveling solo didn’t start with courage. It began with curiosity, a quiet, uneasy question: What if I tried this alone? I wasn’t chasing adventure. I was looking for space to hear myself think. What followed wasn’t just a trip across places but a slow, sometimes awkward unfolding of who I was without the noise of others. It wasn’t always graceful. But it was real. And in that honesty, I found something steadier than confidence, the quiet knowing that I could trust myself, even when things felt uncertain.
If you’ve considered taking that first solo trip, I hope this story gives you something to hold onto. Not a blueprint, but a quiet reminder: You are enough. You can take up space in the world alone and completely whole.
Feeling curious about taking your solo journey? Save this story for when you need courage, or share it with someone in need.
