Traveling Solo: Not scared to be alone

I am traveling alone in Jamaica, and reflecting on what it means for a mother and a wife to be alone.

When I met my husband, Fernando, in 1999 in Rio de Janeiro, I was traveling alone. I wanted to go to South America and could find no one to accompany me. My brother had promised to come, but backed out at the last minute. So, I called my friend Fabio in Rio and told him I was coming to Brazil.

In 1999, I was 25 years old and ready for an adventure. I got what I was looking for when I met Fernando and became a traveling hippie selling beaded necklaces on the side of the road throughout Brazil, Bolivia, and Peru.

I have not traveled alone since. At least, I have not traveled for more than a day or two as I make my way somewhere to meet someone.

In late 2010, I found myself in a situation similar to 1999. I wanted to travel and no one wanted to or could come with me. My children couldn’t come because they have school. My husband would have to stay to look after them. My friends and siblings had too much work or not enough money. I decided that this would not stop me. I wanted to go to Jamaica in early 2011, and I would make my plans regardless of whether or not anyone would come with me.

On January 1, 2011, I woke up in Miami with the realization that the day had come. I was getting ready to board a plane to Negril, Jamaica. By myself. I admit that I briefly considered not going. I am not sure what I was scared of.

Was I scared to be alone? When I was younger, I hated having time to sit around and think because, inevitably, those times would bring back memories of frightful moments or realizations that people I cared for deeply had been harmed. So, I kept going, going, and going so I would not have to think about those things.

My mother says you can’t just push back your fears and feelings: you have to deal with them. I am not sure if I processed all of those memories, or if they really have receded, but I now can sit alone and remember a few horrible moments in my life without breaking down in tears. So, I don’t think I was scared of being alone.

I may have been scared of coming alone to Jamaica, of being put in harm’s way. Of course, I know that Negril is much safer than many urban areas in the United States where I have lived. Nevertheless, as a woman who walks alone, I also know that I can be in danger anywhere. Now that I am here, I feel safe nearly all of the time except for the 20 steps I have to take each evening through a dark path between the hardware store and my cottage.

I once had a boyfriend who practiced martial arts. He told me that I should run if I ever had to walk down a dark street alone at night as I would be less likely to be attacked. At the time, I lived behind Prince George’s Mall outside of Washington, DC, and had to walk through a badly lit apartment complex each evening when I came home from work. I always ran.

Here in Negril, the first night I had to walk through that badly lit driveway, I ran. In my second step, I tripped on a huge stone and cut my hand open. I have not deigned to run down that path since.

Back to being alone. I sit here in my cottage, listening to schoolchildren play during the day and dogs bark at night. As I spend nearly all of my time alone, I don’t get to smile and laugh with friends or make jokes and play with my children. I don’t get to share a meal or an embrace with my husband. However, I know my solitude is temporary and have resolved to make the most of it.

Being alone, I can be completely relaxed all of the time. I can be calm and reflective. I can get up when I please. My mind is clear. I have only to worry about my needs. I am at peace.
Today is January 6, my fifth day alone. I have nine more days to myself. When these two weeks are over, I can go back to being part of the family and community I love and cherish. For now, I will focus on me.

Focusing on me means eating whatever and whenever I please. For now, I have decided to be vegetarian and to abstain from alcohol. Focusing on me means taking very long walks on the beach without worrying I have been gone too long. And focusing on me means spending my mornings writing without worrying about distractions.

My solitude feels good. I am not scared to be alone.