The Art of Solo Travel: How I’ve Become the Woman Who Stands on Her Own.

My journey to personal freedom and autonomy started in my late 20’s, when I left behind a fiancé and moved to New York City. To understand how I got to being such a free-spirited woman with a strong sense of feminism and personal autonomy, one must first understand how I was not any of those things to begin with…

When I was 29 years old, I had been engaged to a man that was not the best for me. We had been together for eight years and living with each other for seven of those eight. Naturally, we had a routine down that I was comfortable in. His family knew me well and he knew mine. In fact, his sisters lived with us for several years. At one point, I even mothered his niece and nephew (a 6 month old baby and a toddler). In the time we spent together, I had graduated with my masters and he had started a very successful business. We started out very poor (I remember days we only had potatoes for dinner) and ended with the possibility of really having a stable life together. We even had a dog that we shared, Dexter. From the outside, our life looked picture perfect. However, what I was hiding from everyone was that over the span of those eight years, he began to control me & my choices. He slowly and methodically broke down my self worth. He separated me from most of my friends and made me believe my family did not have my best interest at heart. It was in the first year that he slapped me and I remember thinking “this is not like the man I love.” That is when the apologies and the grand gestures would come in. And that was the cycle. Every year, slowly getting worse.

It is important to understand that both of us came from households where the cycle of abuse was the norm. His father was very abusive with his mother, even in front of their six children. My mother was very emotionally and (at times) physically abusive with my siblings & I. Having shared these parts of ourselves early on within the relationship (I believe I was 21 at the time) we had created a nice little trauma bond to hold us together. Most people who do not come from abuse can’t really understand this, and I accept the fact they might not get why I allowed it to happen or why I stayed. But instead of defending myself here (cause at this point I don’t feel the need to) I encourage you to look up the cycle of abuse as well as trauma bonds and educate yourself. A reminder that 1 in 3 women will experience domestic violence in her lifetime. Also, that a woman is most likely to be killed by her spouse. However, the most important fact for this article is that I got out of the cycle.

After several years in this situation, I found myself walking on eggshells in my own house, never truly knowing when the next outburst would be or what I was going to do to set him off. Although he was sleeping next to me, I was feeling more alone then ever. I knew it got really bad when he started calling me terrible names in front of his family, not even trying to hide the truth of how he was treating me. I knew it was even worse when I had to give my name & my story to a women’s shelter fearing for my life one night after he almost choked me to death. It was in this time that I realized I had completely lost myself. Slowly, he had taken what I loved away from me: my family, my friends, my self worth, my confidence and my personal style. Along with those things, he also took my trust in men & my trust in myself. He single handedly had crushed my heart and left me wondering if I could ever pick back up the pieces.

My reprieve came in September of 2015 when I went on a brief trip to New York City to see Brandi Carlile with a long-time family friend at Radio City Music Hall. Because my fiancé did not trust me away for long, I was only staying for the weekend. But looking back, those three days were a major turning point in my life. I had so much fun galloping around New York City, dressing how I pleased and doing what I wanted. I felt such a sense of freedom being away. Hanging out with two friends that had known me from childhood, I really felt like I could be myself again. Like I had found the Sarah that I had lost. I sat one night on the fire escape in the loft we were staying out (it was on Broadway & Lafayette in the heart of SoHo) and I just kept watching the people walking by. They had so much confidence, so much style, and a sense of personal autonomy. Freedom seemed to radiate out from their beings from the way that they walked down to the street to the clothes that they wore. This is what I wanted. This is what I needed.

I opened up that weekend for the first time in a long time. I showed and told my friends parts of myself that I hadn’t even told my family: that I was unhappy, that I was feeling so lonely & desperate back in Pennyslvania, and that my fiancé was not the man I had painted him out to be. He was actually a narcissist who had abused me to the point of me being afraid for my life at times. This was an extremely vulnerable act, and looking back, I am so thankful they created that space for me to talk while they truly listened. I am even more grateful that they then offered me a place in their apartment. It turns out one of them was leaving soon for California, so there was a vacancy opening up, and they wanted me to have it. Looking back, this wasn’t coincidence, this was fate. God put me there for a reason, and I was going to jump on the opportunity to take advantage of the gift.

Less than six months later, I had left behind everything that I had worked for: a wedding, a furnished apartment, a car, and my dog. I told my fiancé I was leaving, as well as my family and my friends. I had packed everything I owned into six bins (because space in New York City is tight) and my lovely friend drove 6 hours there and six hours back to help me lug those bins from Pennsylvania to a fourth story walk up in the West Village. This was my chance to finally be on my own and reclaim myself.

I remember those first nights in the city, a mixture between excitement and sadness clung to me. One minute I was filled with happiness, dancing down the street to the rhythm of the song on my headphones, feeling the freedom of being alone. I knew that no one was paying attention to me, we were all in our own little worlds in New York. The next moment, it would be night and I no longer had a familiar body next to mine. On several of these nights, I remember eating a whole tub of gelato to ease the pain. In the end though, I felt more at peace in my own presence than I ever was in my previous relationship. Somehow the anxiety still lived in my body though. I was scared to break the rules that my x had created for me: don’t dress too provocatively, don’t have sex with other people, don’t get too drunk or too wild, don’t hangout with friends late. As I observed this, I decided I was one-by-one going to break the rules. I was going to be free of the confines of someone else’s judgement.

I started with what I wore. I went on a website that was both trendy and cheap and picked out risqué, yet tasteful New York City attire. I bought several pair of sexy heels on my 30th birthday and I still remember my friend seeing them and stating, “But SARAH, those are HOT!” “I know” I replied, remembering I had impeccable taste. I also remember both of my friends (both in the fashion industry) making me try on my haul of new clothes as they cheered me on… “But is this top too low?” I felt the shame of my x upon me. “Fuck no! Try it without the bra!” they would say, daring me to a be a little bit more dangerous and comfortable in my own skin. It is exactly what I needed at the time. Looking back, I realize now this is why I love fashion and clothes so much. It allows you to express who you are in the art of dressing. It’s an indulgence I am not sure I will ever give up, and that’s ok with me.

I got on tinder and bumble so I could finally tackle dating and having sex with someone new. My first date was a tall, black man who had dreads and owned a fashion store in Soho. He dressed extremely dapper and seemed to know everyone in town. We spent a whole night jumping from club to club, just dancing and being free. He asked me that night to come back to his apartment, but I politely declined. The next weekend he invited me to a lingerie fashion show at his store. I remember feeling intimidated, thinking this petite woman from Pennsylvania had no business being at a New York fashion show. I mean, what would I wear? I asked my new roommate and her advice was, “Just wear a dress and a leather jacket, you can’t go wrong.” That day I picked out a white and black striped body-con dress from French Connection and new faux leather jacket from Zara. I wore it with an old pair of over the knee boots I owned. That evening I ended up in a fashion magazine for what I wore. It felt like my world was expanding fast; I had my hands up in the air as I was riding the roller coaster and I loved it. For those of you wondering, I did eventually sleep with him in his Williamburg apartment. I woke up to him taking instruments off his walls and playing them for me. He was in love with jazz and I was in love with getting to know different people and imagining what my life would be like next to them. I was free to explore again.

Little by little in New York I found myself again. Being a fan of Sex and the City, I followed Carrie’s advice and decided to start taking myself out on dates. I figured if I was going to be alone, I was going to learn to like being alone and in my own company. I started by simply having drinks at the bar. At first, I wouldn’t talk to anyone but the bartender. Then, I learned to start conversations with those around me. For my next personal challenge, I took myself to brunch, often reading a book or writing in a journal. But soon, I didn’t need that armor. I let go of the book, the phone, or my journal and simply just sat with myself. I would happily people watch or live in my head (my imagination is quite impeccable). It was in these moments I really started to revel at being alone. I was fine like this; in fact, I was happy. Parks were another place I would often go alone. Sometimes I would go to salsa nights on the pier, while others I would just sit and bask in the sun. I met a lot of people that way; but if I didn’t, I was also happy just to be on a date with my city.

My sexuality is also something that expanded in New York. I always knew I was attracted to women because when I was in college I would often get drunk and make out with my best friend. I didn’t realize I was doing it at the time, until on her 21st birthday our mutual friend took a video of us, proving we were doing it whenever we got drunk and were dancing together. In rewatching the video, it was definitely me who made the first move (though she happily obliged). We laughed about it later, but it made me realize I was repressing a part of myself. It was clear to me, between that and occasionally watching lesbian porn from time to time, that I probably was bisexual. I challenged myself to put “men & women” on my bumble search and quickly matched with a woman named Genevieve LeJuene. I would later find out she owned an all women’s sex club for bicurious women. Well, I was bicurious, and I decided to try being with a woman (or honestly, a few at the same time) on for size. I found out I liked it.

I tried being a non-monogamous relationship for nine months. I met someone who had found his wife cheating on him after waiting for sex until marriage for religious reasons. He felt he had done everything right, and still ended up hurt. He wasn’t ready to trust a committed relationship again, and after holding back for so long he wanted to experience life with different women. I understood him. Coming from a failed engagement, I also wasn’t ready to go all in with anyone, so we met half way. We enjoyed each other’s company while also sharing stories we had with other people. There were times I was jealous and times I was just intrigued. We always managed to be honest and talk out any weird feelings and to this day we are still friends. His birthday rolled around this year and I said “Happy birthday, friend! I hope you get to do at least three sports today and flirt with someone cute and fun!” (his favorite kind of day). His reply: “Thanks so much! Three sports down, the first being sex!” It made me smile. I realized non-monogamy is not for me, but I valued the experience.

You see, New York is where I opened my heart and myself back into the world. I tried different versions of myself on until one felt like it fit. I learned there that you can always try something and then give yourself the grace to back out of it if need be. To start over again whenever (if ever) you feel like you need to. I learned that I could tackle anything on my own, from dinner by myself to finances. I learned that I could meet people and start conversations in any situation. I learned to love & trust myself again. I learned that no matter what happened, I had my own back and I was going to be ok. I learned to let people I loved go, to be free to make their own choices. I learned heartbreak won’t kill you, just teach you things (and if you’re lucky, write a few good pieces of art). It was in this deep sense of knowing myself, I decided that I could tackle traveling alone. It was then I bought a one way ticket to Italy…where another journey (and story) begins.

My point is, I think one of the greatest things we can do for ourselves, is learn to be alone and stand on our own two feet. To learn to love ourselves fully. To allow yourself to try things, to fail, and to get back up…because it is in these moments we learn to trust ourselves. And when you both love & trust yourself, there’s nothing you can’t do. Nothing you cannot accomplish. Nothing to hold you back. You learn to jump, and sometimes without looking. In my opinion, these are the funnest moments in life; the ones where you truly feel alive. For some, that’s just getting into a relationship or committing to a marriage. For others, it is leaving a failed marriage, knowing one day you’ll be a happier version of yourself in the long-run. Sometimes it’s trusting you can have kids and be a good parent. It can also be as simple as learning to live again without a parent. I talked to one of my friends today who is jumping into freezing her eggs to potentially have the baby alone (to which I absolutely championed her on). For me, it was leaving behind everything I knew and worked for to live in New York. And later, for moving across the world to Europe.

No matter who you are or where you’re at in life, life is going to consistently ask you to jump into things you’ll be a little scared of. Things that maybe you don’t even know if you can handle. But I promise you, you can. You learn to put one foot in front of the other and continue to walk through life. I am not gonna lie, sometimes you will literally just crawl through life wondering when you’ll finally have the strength to get back up. But, you will. You’ll keep going. And in these moments, when we face our fears and trust ourselves, we’re going to meet a better version of ourselves on the other side. I promise you. And Hell, you might even have a little bit of fun in the process.

This is my story of how I went from a woman who allowed the absolute worst to happen to her, to becoming the woman who I have always wanted to be: unafraid of life. I graciously ride the waves of ups & downs, knowing life is not always stable or fair. I accept I cannot control things, and honestly, I do not want to anymore. I allow others to make their own choices, to be free; because I know what is for me will always find me. I am now unafraid to sit by herself at dinner, or travel to Morocco for a month on her own. I revel at the opportunities to know myself & the world deeper.

I hope this story gives you motivation to keep going in life. To do those things you’ve always wanted to, but are a little scared to try. I want to champion you, like I do to all of my friends. Keep going…you’ll get there! And the person you’re becoming, they are turning out absolutely beautiful!