I’m leaving soon for a road trip. As I’ve written before, I’m a big fan of road trips. I’ve driven across, up, and down the USA many time, traveled Canada from coast to coast and beyond (thank you, ferries). I love the spontaneity of a road trip, the fact that time becomes elastic. It takes a few days for the new rhythm to sink in, but out on the road, liberated from familiar surroundings and everyday responsibilities, it’s easier to remember that the journey is as important as arriving at the destination.
Although I love road trips, this will be my first since 2019. I’d originally planned this upcoming one for summer of 2020 but, of course, the pandemic changed everything. Beginning in March 2020, nobody traveled anywhere. We not only didn’t travel, we were afraid to leave home.
History is marked by events that change both the courses and perspectives of those who live through them. Plagues, major wars, natural catastrophes–it’s impossible to collectively experience these traumas and emerge the same as we were before they happened. Wherever we spent the pandemic years, however we absorbed the impact, we all have some form of PTSD. It touches each of us in a different way, but we have all changed.
As I re-visit this particular trip, I’m aware of how different I really am. In the past, planning a trip was exciting. This time, I’m tentative to the point of indecision. It’s hard to commit to a reservation without my mind ticking through every possible thing that could go wrong. I probably won’t believe I’m taking this trip at all until I pull out of my driveway and make it through several states unscathed. I’ve dealt with blips on past trips–car trouble, unfortunate route surprises, days where I wasn’t operating at 100%–but this is different. I feel like a target for disaster, like if something can go wrong, it will. I’m more vulnerable, less in control (with no relief to be found in the current world situation).
This makes the trip even more necessary. There may be a few more safety nets this time (looking at you, trip insurance), but I need to prove to myself that I’m still capable of doing this thing I love. I need more than ever to escape the limitations of time, to challenge the undercurrent of fear that has insidiously ingratiated itself into my mindset.
There’s no going back to who we were before. The best I can do is engage my babbling mind in the drive so that I can get in touch with who I am now and regain clarity about what really matters.
Hey, Jill.
Mind if I tag along on your next venture?
This couldn’t be more timely for me as well, as you know. I too have that same chorus of “what if?” going on, but…also, what if it’s wonderful?
I hope we both have a horizon-expanding, peaceful, rejuvenating time away.
Kristina, thank you so much for that reminder. That little voice in my head leaves out the potential good stuff, along with the fact that we could actually come back stronger. Safe travels to you!
Tom, I’ll think about it!