Grief is a weird thing. Some people retreat into their havens because they can't risk even the thought of more pain or trauma - and that's beyond valid. But others, like myself, feel like pushing ourselves further out of our comfort zones is a way to cope.
After Bill died, I threw myself into loads of projects I'd never done before. Replace the roof on our house? Sure, why not? Judge a wine competition? Bring it on! Travel across the world alone? Far far away!
Of course I was worried about traveling, and mostly about public perception. But the urge to get far away stemmed from much different motivation than most people tend to think.
The need to flee from emotional pain is long-standing for me but immediately after Bill died, I did the opposite. I wanted to force myself into dealing with grief and focus on our house. But after our dog Klaus died, that was it - I had to get away. And I know I'm not alone in that sort of reaction.
There's an uptick of travel membership sign ups among those who have experienced loss. 2020 was really strange because although we couldn't travel, the uptick was not only present but stronger than ever. I've thought a bit about what my motivations were and now that I have a bit more emotional distance, they seem to make sense and to resonate a lot with others.
Travel let me lose myself. I was a continent and an ocean away from anyone who knew me and that sort of anonymity was priceless. I no longer had to talk about how I was doing, I no longer had to rehash everything that had happened in painful detail yet again - I could just be. I could go as long as I wanted to without talking to anyone and that was such a profound relief.
Travel gave me focus. When I'm in a country and a language I don't know, I have to pay close attention to everything going on around me. Even when I do speak the language, like in France, it takes me a few days to adjust and my mind is working constantly to be able to interpret and comprehend. Either scenario provides a much more immediate focus than my own grief and helps get me out of my own head.
Travel rebuilt my confidence. One of the weird things many of us experience after loss is shaken confidence. It doesn't logically make sense, but our confidence is jolted to the very core. To be able to successfully navigate the unknown is invigorating and reminds us that we're still very much alive and very capable.
Finally - and this can't be discounted - travel reminded me of our shared humanity. When we're out there in this big dumb world, we realize how we're just teeny little parts of it. This doesn't lessen loss, but it does remind us that loss is part of life. All of those nameless faces we pass have either experienced loss or will, just like us.
Did travel take away my pain? Nope, not in the least, and there were days when I'd wander the streets of Paris crying. It happens. But what travel did do is to help bring me back to myself. It gave me just enough space to be able to feel ready to face rebuilding my life.
It's because of this experience that I've joined the Wanderful team to host monthly Grief Support Circles. It's a monthly open, one-hour gathering place for people experiencing grief related to the death of a loved one... and it's totally free for Wanderful members. Exploring our experiences with other like-minded women is incredibly valuable, and I look forward to learning more from everyone.
Assuming not every reader is a Wanderful member, what's your experience been with loss? Have you traveled or had the urge to? What was your experience? Comment below!
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