On the road: Big Island of Hawai'i, or, Party of one

I love to travel and see the world, but because I am somewhat co-dependent when I get on the road for fun, I prefer to have a travel buddy. I know, I know -- I travel solo for work all of the time, and I love it. When I have the choice? I want to go with someone by my side. It's not just having a conversation partner or having someone to share my clever travel quips with. More than anything, having a partner to travel with means I don't get stuck in my head -- in those obsessive, looping trains of thought -- and I can actually enjoy myself.

Our first trip together -- Victoria, B.C.

That's not a bad thing -- not necessarily. But a few months ago, I recognized that my inability to go off on my own is holding me back when it comes to better managing my anxiety.

It was an average weekday and I found myself really (no, really) struggling. The details? Not important. But I was panicky, upset, and struggling to self-soothe. Should I have tried longer? Perhaps. Should I have worked through more options further down my list of coping techniques? Possibly. I was agitated and frustrated and over-stimulated and I turned to Sergio for comfort.

In case I haven't stated the obvious, here it is -- I have the best partner in the world. Sergio is calm, kind, and caring and has the patience of Job. I've struggled so much for more than a year and he's been with me every step of the way. I've learned more about loving myself from him than anyone else.

And sometimes it is too much for him.

"You have to help yourself! I can't always be there for you!" he said.

"I'm trying, I'm trying!" I said through tears, quickly followed by, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

We hugged it out and, temporarily, I felt better. I have made progress when it comes to standing on my own feet and battling anxiety and my fears. But sometimes I'm not there yet -- and it's so damn hard for me to admit that I am struggling or to ask for help.

That solidified my decision to spend the weekend before my commitment alone -- in Hawai'i. I'm blessed to have such a challenging and interesting job that comes with travel benefits. But it is also a demanding job and when I am "on," I have to be on. I was a little worried because I needed to make sure my head was in the game and, let's face it -- three days of facilitation is a bit like a triathlon, except with no major water breaks and with a constant audience of your work colleagues and the wind in your face. Was I strong enough to hack it on my own? Wouldn't I be better off with less time to think consider the big existential questions I'm wrestling with?

There is no way to find out other than to do. Before I lost my nerve, I made the reservation and booked my flight. Now it was done and I had to do it.

Another perfect morning in Waimea

How can a place as beautiful as Hawai'i cause me such angst and stress? It feels like the stress melts away from my limbs every time I make my way off of the plane. The air feels warm and heavy -- I have to grab my scarf so it doesn't take off from the tarmac. The creaky baggage claim belt creaks to life and then I'm whizzing along Queen K Highway and all is good with the world again.

Were it not so far away, I would make it home.

Traveling along? Time for another #selfie.

I decided to treat myself to another stay at the Fairmont Orchid because, well, I never like to do anything halfway. When we visited in September for Sergio's birthday they were so friendly and service-oriented that I knew it would be another fantastic stay (spoiler: it was). There is something comforting and enjoyable about a repeat vacation -- not only did I know the bed would be comfortable and the food would be delicious, but because I knew where to go for whatever I needed, I could spend less time thinking and worrying about it.

But as much as I travel solo, never had I been to exotic, romantic Hawai'i on my own. There was a wedding party taking photos in view of my balcony, and I caught myself staring at them with my book my lap (poor bride -- she had picked a pretty dress that was all wrong for her body type). There was a couple canoodling in the spa waiting area as I absently flipped through the magazine. And as I ate dinner at the beachside cafe, couples posed together, phones at arm's length, as the sun sank below the sea.

It's not that paradise was bad. It was just a little lonely.

I often tell my coaching clients that our work together is not about "expanding their comfort zones." That's a bunch of bullshit. It suggests that if we work hard enough and try hard enough and grit our teeth hard enough that we'll see the silver lining of any cloud and actually enjoy public speaking or managing low performers or, in my case, traveling solo. That framing doesn't work because it's a lie.

As I sat there hiding behind my sunglasses, I reminded myself of the reason for this solo trip -- it was to be brave, to challenge myself, and to take another step in my recovery. It wasn't about being comfortable or expanding my comfort zone. Still bullshit. It was about increasing my tolerance for discomfort.

That's what anxiety is -- it's really uncomfortable. It's not at all pleasant. But, as my favorite book on the subject says, no one ever died from a panic attack (really. I know. I've read that chapter many times). When anxiety rears its ugly head, you are supposed to acknowledge it -- you can even say that it sucks or curse at it or whatever you'd like -- but not cave to it. The strategy becomes simple -- I need to put myself in a variety of situations and when it gets uncomfortable, I recognize it and the impact it has on me -- and then I choose to stay or to go.

With that in mind, I kept this trip rather low-key. I walked along the shoreline and stopped by my favorite used bookstore (complete with two cat residents, of course), visited my favorite restaurants with a book as my date, and indulged in shave ice (twice).

Heaven in a plastic cup, complete with the safety straw.

There were a few cool new stops this time. It was whale season so I was lucky enough to see the humpbacks just offshore -- from my second hotel room, you could see them come up for air. Because of my luck or the season (I don't know which), there were far more honu (native Hawaiian turtles) than the last trip. The second hotel was part of a captive breeding program, so they had two ponds of four turtles each (one pond of adults and one with juvenile turtles). My favorite turtle encounter was during a walk to the tide pools one morning -- I found two honu resting in one of the pools.

They are such magnificent creatures! It is hard to catch them swimming in the ocean -- especially with the unusually high surf that we were experiencing -- but they move through the water with such grace. I was rather mesmerized by the patterns on their shells, heads, and flippers. This one lounged lazily in the tide pool, turning his head slightly as I hovered over him. One of the hotel employees told me that many honu would be killed every year by well-intentioned tourists when they were flung back into the ocean. Evidently these visitors assumed the turtles were stranded on the beach (?) and decided to throw them back into the ocean to save them... except they threw them back into the rocks, cracking their softer underbelly shells. With additional signage, fencing, and education, these horrible incidents have become less frequent. And I wanted to leave this little turtle in peace, so I didn't tell the others I met on the path about his/her presence.

Swim safely, little turtle.

The quirkiest thing I did was tour a seahorse farm. Behind the Kona airport is a deep-water pipeline that delivers cold, fresh ocean water to the surface (it was part of an alternative energy lab at some point), making it a perfect spot for fish farming. Part conservation effort and part fish farm, Ocean Rider has two purposes. First, they have domesticated different types of seahorses to be pets (wild-caught seahorses quickly die in captivity) and they also breed "feral" seahorses to release into the wild (to held the populations rebuild). So forty of us milled around the different pools, sweating profusely as a very enthusiastic biologist taught us about seahorse reproduction and care -- finally a time that being a party-of-one makes you more mobile!

This is what a seahorse farm looks like.

I was proud of myself for stepping up and taking this trip solo. There were plenty of uncomfortable moments and the big step was recognizing them and giving myself permission to address them as I saw fit. Not only were my days off filled with relaxation, the summit went well and I could fly home feeling like a success. Solo travel doesn't feel comfortable enough to be my go-to, but I want to give it another try and take another solo vacation in the upcoming months.

xo,
Sarah

P.S. I'm behind on blogging, obvs. I had a busy travel month so I had the opportunity to spend a lot of time with my nose in a book. I'm working on a short book blog with five or six new books I want to recommend to you. We're also starting our house hunt (officially), so I want to share more about that process, a first for me and for us.

Beautiful morning beach walk.

Mahalo and aloha...