By Lauren
Since I started school, all I wanted to do was prove I was mature enough. I was freshly 17 when I officially started my gap year. Once again, too young. My gap year consultant helped me find a way to accomplish what I wanted at 17. Our big disagreement was solo travel. I was desperate to travel alone during my gap year. In my mind, doing things alone = adulthood, and this year was my opportunity to prove my independence. In her mind, a 17-year-old traveling alone = unsafe and difficult. We found a way to compromise.
My first day traveling completely alone, with no travel friends, guide, or anything else, wasn’t until I was in Sri Lanka in early February. Oh my goodness, I was beyond excited. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but the worry in my mom’s voice on our phone call made me feel capable. I faked nonchalance as I told her all the exciting things I was going to do completely by myself. Yes, I was terrified- I knew this even at the time. I had been scared my whole gap year. That fear hadn’t stopped me before, and I wasn’t going to let it now. Oh, but it did.
By this time, I had traveled by myself long enough to get a good head on my shoulders and discern real threats from over exaggerated ones. While I wanted to be cautious, I couldn’t let that caution swallow me up. I quickly realized that being completely alone was a whole new task, unlike anything I had experienced before in my gap year. I failed. Being alone was lonely. I craved talking to people. In this Sri Lankan town, I went out of my way to meet as many locals and backpackers as possible. But these repeated small talk conversations quickly became meaningless, and I missed the deep, intimate conversations you have with someone who knows you. I built my identity around proving independence, and for the first time during my gap year I failed in a way that couldn’t be fixed. I tried solo travel again a few times, and each time, I realized I just didn’t enjoy it. For a while, not liking solo travel felt like evidence I wasn’t adult enough.
I kept trying to become the kind of traveler I thought I was supposed to be. Backpacking culture idolizes this mythical person who never gets lonely, travels alone forever, never calls home, loves hostels, makes instant friends, hates routine. The realization that this person wasn’t me hit my ego like a brick wall. I loved everything about traveling, but solo travel came with extreme highs and extreme lows, and I couldn’t do it long-term. When I came to accept this fact, I finally stopped feeling ashamed of it.
The thing is, I did eventually travel independently. I spent a month and a half in Malaysia and Singapore figuring out buses, changing plans, booking things last minute, handling problems, navigating airports, and making decisions. I was doing all the “adult” things I didn’t think I could do, and I loved every second of it. The difference was, I wasn’t alone. I made a friend in Thailand who I traveled with. My ability to adapt and handle issues that arose while traveling (missed buses, language barriers, last-minute changes) demonstrated my maturity much more than how many people in my hostel knew my name.
The realization I came to was that maybe my whole thought process was wrong. I thought adulthood meant needing no one. Being an “adult” had nothing to do with being alone, and it was a silly goal to chase in the first place. I entered my gap year wanting everyone to think I was older. By the end, I couldn’t care less how old others perceive me. I ended my gap year with much less interest in proving I was an adult and much more interest in being myself. Learning to problem-solve prepared me for adulthood far more than forcing myself to be alone ever could.
