Around a month ago I was reflecting on well-intentioned questions others asked that implied a lot about what they assumed I was going through. The thing is, to me, this implied a lot about their mindsets about women, traveling, and labels and boxes they wanted me to fit into. I have always found it fortunate that I don’t fit in some ways. With this in mind, this blog entry is reflective and considers not only current concerns others have brought up about me, a single, newly married woman traveling and living abroad alone but also some thoughts on what it means to be alone versus to feel alone. Truly, distance from loved ones is not a clear indicator that I will feel less isolated. I experienced some of the loneliest times of my life at the beginning of my job in La Paz, Bolivia—which was likely also due to culture shock—and I think I ended carrying that loneliness through to when I lived in Ohio, which was only two hours away from my family in West Virginia. This is not to say I did not have positive experiences in Ohio; in fact, I met many great people and had a lot of support, but I still needed to do the work of sitting with my loneliness to better understand it.

I believe a person can be incredibly lonely in a crowded room, depending on their state of mind and how they choose to feel (or ignore) and work with the emotion. I do not think loneliness is a particularly bad thing, but I do believe there are always ways to improve how I experience it. Like a lot of emotions and experiences in life, it is a work-in-progress. Each time we experience it is another opportunity to reconsider our approach.

To provide some background information about me, I happen to come from a social class that has taught me to have a voice and parents who have encouraged me to use it. This means that when I take public transportation, not only can I be fairly sure that I will be safe, but if I feel unsafe at any point, I know that if I raise my voice I will be heard, and hopefully assisted if needed. I consider myself to be blessed to not have needed to even go that far for my safety in any open spaces or on public transportation systems like buses, trains, or planes. I also recognize the privilege in these situations—not that it is impossible for bad things to happen to me, which they have, but that who I am and how I am often perceived is generally favorable, regardless of the country in which I’m visiting or residing. In fact, when I reflect on the people who have questioned me about my “safety”, they are often people with similar privileges to me. Interestingly, upon reflection I realize that friends of mine who do not relate to me on those levels have never asked me those types of questions, which is possibly something to unpack later. Even when I lived in Bolivia or traveled to Kenya, as a white, United States citizen, I always had a choice in the groups with whom I hung out (mostly white groups of expatriates, local Bolivian colleagues, German immigrants and exchange students, etc.) and felt safe enough to go out with friends or walk home after dark, after teaching a class at the school. In the instances in which I have been the only white person in a room or in the minority of people in a country, my feeling of relative safety stayed with me. In some ways, I know that these privileges as well as how strangers and acquaintances perceive me often work to my advantage. 

In September, I wrote some of these thoughts out in a Facebook post. This made sense because many of the people who had asked similar questions or made similar comments are on that particular platform. What I did not account for is apparently how much I had to say concerning thoughts and opinions other people had directed my way on past trips and my current one. I tend to find it surprising when commentors express outright disbelief in my response when all I’ve done, in my mind, is honestly, unapologetically respond. Sometimes, my so-called “boldness” is simply overlooked it as something that would never be possible or safe for another person. Sometimes the conversation ends abruptly because my straightforward replies do not, in fact, fill in the roomy, often-stereotyped space the commentor had cleaned out for me in the comfort zone of their mind. Here is what I posted on Facebook:

Granted, I acknowledge that many people seem to speak—and inquire—directly from their own worldview and experiences. So, as I try to make myself understandable to others, I recognize that I may be somewhat of an anomaly if the commentor tends to only interact with people who look, sound, believe, earn, and/or act like they do.

Seeing Myself through Others’ Eyes

A quick Google search can scratch the surface of the arguments for and in opposition to the idea of a “true self”. At this stage of my life, I have more or less settled on the idea that no one will ever know the version of me that I know best. The others drafts for me are likely  shaped by the context of my interactions with them (e.g., middle school teacher-Claire, high school/technical education teacher-Claire, swim coach-Claire, triathlete-Claire, confidant-Claire, sister-Claire, etc.). Obviously there is serious overlap in some instances, especially in the case of family and longtime friends. 

With this in mind, I often find myself choosing responses to the more biased questions with consideration to WHAT I am to them instead of WHO I am to them. I think seeing me as a WHAT (e.g., woman, alone, white, cis., US citizen, teacher, scholar, etc.) is often a projected image of what they want me to be. As a result it is a subconscious test for others to ask questions that assume I fit the projected image—often only to be dismayed when they realize they’ve asked the wrong person to fit the mold they have set. This is not to say that people who see me as a WHO (i.e., friend, colleague, confidant, sibling, wife, etc.) only see the parts of my identity they have come to know and are free from WHAT-biases. Additionally, as the conversation about “privileges” becomes more prevalent across the United States, especially in higher education settings, I recognize that, both, the WHAT- and WHO- biases comes with certain privileges. I cannot ignore my privileges because these stay with me in every experience and opportunity I encounter—as yours are with you. To me, having privilege does not mean I have not experienced hardships and suffering. It does not mean I have life made and finally won the lottery of the proverbial “American Dream”. It DOES mean that I have features beyond my  control that make people treat me a little differently than others sometimes. For instance, I am a white, short, and sometimes charming woman with a relatively neutral speaking accent, or so I am told. Personally, I think many people find my freckles endearing, as they are often something I completely forget I have altogether. These factors and more likely contribute to the overall image others create of me in their subconsciouses. For instance, in many cases I can count on people not being afraid to approach me—in fact, maybe being more likely to approach me—for help or with questions because of how I look. 

At the end of the day, we are all human. Regardless of my viewpoint on the matter, I  always encourage people to ask questions—even poorly-worded, half-baked ideas—instead of withholding them. Part of this is because I am  used to people making silent incorrect assumptions about me that it’s become easier to ask people to be more direct with their questions. Not everyone does, but it is nice when we can finally talk about whatever topic openly and authentically. This does tend to involve open and authentic emotion-navigation, too, and I am grateful that the people who are often open to asking me directly about something are also often open to having a respectful discussion about it, too—even if we do not agree when it is all said and done. 

Being “Alone”

At this point in my life, I tend to view the idea of being “alone” as a state of mind as opposed to a physical fact. Granted, this perspective has been shaped over years. As a child, before internet and cell phones, I rarely felt bored because there was always a book to read, a public library to visit, and nature to explore. My parents encouraged creative play and physical activity as much as they supported my interest in music, reading, and latch-hook or counted cross-stitch creations. If I had downtime, I always found something I wanted to do. From a young age, I did not wait for others to “rescue” me from my boredom because there was something I could do in the meantime.

As a teenager and young adult, I sometimes felt alone, but then realized that, often people did want to hang out, but they were hesitant to initiate. So, I decided to be the person who reached out to people when I felt lonely. Also as a teenager, I discovered that people really enjoy talking about themselves, so instead of sharing more of my story, I began asking questions to get others talking. I have the privilege and blessing of a loving family, so these habits did not make me feel alone or unheard. I knew that someone in my family would be around if I needed to talk. Plus, I kept a diary, which was as good as talking to a friend from school most of the time. Once A.O.L. Instant Messenger (otherwise known as AIM) came along, I stayed up late on our dial-up network talking to high school friends who were also night owls. From an early age, I had the option of talking to people if and when I needed social interaction, which I consider to be another boon. As an adult, I have been lucky enough to find a few “soul-people” whom I can trust care about my voice and my story, so now I lean on them when I need to—or sometimes they check in and I surprise myself with how much I let out. Either way, now that I understand more about establishing healthy boundaries for myself and have established routines for pouring into others when I begin to cycle inside of my own head, I often feel significantly less lonely when I am perceptively alone.

The feeling of loneliness often has the most strength at night once all of the tasks of the day are done and the mind has time to reflect—and sometimes unfairly cycle and recycle—through thoughts. As an adolescent, I tried praying; as an adult, I try meditation and breathing techniques; but still, when this emotion comes, I now make it a point to feel it fully, exploring it like a new city, and then remembering how loved I am. If needed, I also know I can reach out to others regardless of the time of day. I also give myself visual reminders (e.g., pictures, artwork, etc.) of my purpose and connection to others. These visual reminders ground me in times of loneliness or feelings of being adrift or aloof, as it is symbolic of a place and people I love. 

Finally, as far as doing things alone in your town, region, nation, or globally, I think that just takes practice. Most of the time, I think people permit their internal-fear and self-doubt to hold them back from doing something potentially freeing because it’s easier to stay in the box that experience something “unknown” or outside of one’s comfort zone. This could be going to a movie alone, taking a mini-vacation on your own, or reserving a table-for-one at a restaurant you love or have always wanted to try. Since I’m on a personal-opinion rant, I might as well say that it will probably feel awkward at first—especially if you are not yet used to being fully present (i.e., without the distractions of technology or responsibility to tend/respond to others’ needs). I also don’t subscribe to the “I’m too old for…” or whatever nonsense excuse people give themselves to stay in a box. (Okay, okay, sometimes it has merit, especially if there is a health concern in the mix, but most of the time it’s just a reason not to do something amazing because it’s “unknown” or outside of the comfort zone.)

Final Thoughts

Considering lessons I’ve learned and frustrations I’ve experienced as I navigate staying “true” to myself despite others’ assumptions about me, my own conscious and subconscious privileges, and the process of growing to be comfortable in my own skin—with or without others’ company—I am still excited for the adventure that is life and I am thrilled with how I am choosing to live it. It is imperfect and I can always grow more in this or that way, but overall, I find myself grateful to be intentional and action-oriented in my approach to my life. So, I implore you to ask questions and find groups of like-minded people or people who have experience doing what you want to do. Above these requests, though, just go out and act on something. You have it in you and, at the very least, you have me, too. So you do not have to be alone. I choose to consume literature to discover and understand more about myself and possible privileges I have, but of which I may not be aware. I find myself continually reflecting on how intentional I am—or could become—in using my own privileges to the advantage of others as well as myself. Through the years, I have become more intentional about my actions, vulnerabilities, comfort zone, and intentions about my privileges, loneliness and other emotions, and my purpose. The progress is slow, but certainly worth it.

Until next time!

Your resident female traveler, 

Claire