Esther Purves
We’ve all heard the TikTok sound that tells us to be alone in our twenties. Across social media there are claims that true freedom is found in being alone, travelling alone and living alone. We hear stories about how relationships provide a complicated filter that mutes your wants, goals and desires. Amidst the noise of social media telling us to be alone we all ask the same question- should I stay single in my twenties?
I began to ask that very same question after my boyfriend of nearly two years and I emerged from lockdown. With international travel back on the cards, it soon became clear that we didn’t share the same passion for travel, adventure and exploration.
I knew I wanted to go on a backpacking trip, visit more countries, experience new cultures and even spend some time living abroad. This simply wasn’t what he wanted. As I attempted to navigate our clashing perspectives, I felt my want to travel becoming diminished, dismissed and muted. I knew that I had to break off the relationship to grant myself some freedom. Singlehood was my answer to travelling more.
In one jarring, painful and life-altering evening, I became single. Alone for the first time in two years, I suddenly existed at the beginning of a huge amount of possibilities for my future. It was the first moment of making my travel dreams a reality, but I was paralysed by options and crippled by heartbreak.
Two weeks later, I booked a £19 return flight to Milan and a cheap hostel in Como, Italy. In a futile attempt to make myself forget about the swirling emotional chaos that I found myself in, I embarked on my first solo trip to Lake Como.
The trip to Como was exactly what I needed. The magnitude of my breakup felt incomprehensible, but having a focal point to guide me through provided a welcome, Italian distraction in those early days. I explored tiny, quintessentially Italian towns, enjoyed the serenity of the lake, ate a lot of pizza and met some lovely people that really made the experience so wonderful.
So, I guess I’d done it. I’d enjoyed a trip that I never would have gone on with my ex-boyfriend, I’d done it independently and I had a great time doing it. Is this what they meant when they said to be alone? I returned to the UK feeling empowered, refreshed and emotionally energised, fully understanding why solo travel seemed to be popular for those seeking a remedy for their heartbreak.
This didn’t last long. As I sank back into my normal life, I became more and more paralysed by the aftermath of my breakup. My anxiety was crippling me on a daily basis, I became withdrawn, confused and broken as I desperately tried to navigate my responsibilities. Even though I had made the call to end my relationship to travel, I continued to feel like I was simply existing, floating through my life without direction, drive or purpose.
In an attempt to feel something again, I booked another trip to Naples two months later with someone I’d met in my hostel in Como. As she could only come out for a few days, I decided to tack on a solo leg of the trip to the Amalfi coast, giving myself a (very expensive!) slice of Italian luxury.
Put simply, I adored this trip. For the first time in two months, I felt like I was completely free of my mountains of breakup anxiety and I was truly able to relax, enjoy myself and lap up the sheer joy of being out of the country. After visiting ancient ruins, eating impeccable food and meeting people from all over, I ended the trip on a private boat with ten strangers sailing down the Amalfi coast and taking dips in secret swim spots.
I returned from Naples feeling like I’d cracked the key to recovering from heartbreak. I was filled with motivation for the first time in months, determined to save for my next big backpacking trip. I felt like I’d received some confirmation from the universe that solo travel was absolutely the right thing for me.
Despite this newfound motivation, the anxiety I’d been experiencing prior to Naples was seeping back into my life and, more so than before, I found it completely debilitating. I couldn’t understand why, when I’d been away, I had felt so normal yet, back at home, I was becoming a shadow of myself.
In a desperate attempt to combat this, I began to plan and research a solo trip to South East Asia. Despite the residue of my breakup undercutting my growing obsession with this trip, I persevered. My brain was fixed on the binary that social media feeds us daily: freedom lies in travelling alone, captivity lies in relationships.
As I was planning and plotting my three month solo adventure, the same question niggled me: what would I be coming back to? I was gradually coming to terms with the fact that a large motivator of this trip was the sheer escapism it would grant me, and I became concerned for my wellbeing on my return. I was dragging myself through the months I had to endure until I could leave the country again, condemning myself to return to the anxiety-riddled state I’d been in before I left.
Around this time, my friend said to me: ‘People still have problems in other countries. People who live in Italy, France, Australia, Canada, you name it…they all still have problems.’
It’s funny how sometimes the smallest comments can end up having the biggest impact. Unless I dealt with the anxiety I was experiencing at home, I’d only end up taking my emotional baggage with me on my travels. Perhaps social media tells us that relationships are captivating, but nothing had ever limited me in the way that my anxiety was.
And so, I postponed my big solo trip in favour of building a life that I’d be happy to return to when I was back from travelling. I endeavoured to be more present. I spent time alone and tried counselling to utilise the expertise of an unbiased ear.
It turned out that solo travel wasn’t the remedy to my heartbreak. There were certainly incredible moments of confidence, independence and spontaneity that I wouldn’t have experienced if I hadn’t travelled solo, but for me, the real healer of my heartbreak was a lot of work on myself. Cheesy, but true.
Later that year, in an ending I never thought I’d be writing, I met someone new. He ignites, compliments and honours my love of travel in a way that I couldn’t sustain for myself if I were single. In a very ‘life always works out but never in the way you think’ moment, we’re embarking on a trip to South Africa later this year- an outcome I never could have fathomed in the early months of my breakup.
I never found the freedom I craved merely by being single. To say that all single people are free lacks nuance and neglects the very real fact that singlehood can be extremely difficult, especially in the recent aftermath of a breakup. Ultimately, my freedom lay in making a hugely difficult and painful decision that I knew would serve my future self.
For anyone debating breaking up with their partner to honour their desire to travel, my advice is to take that step, no matter how awful it seems. Not because being single automatically means that you can acquire a new freedom to travel, but because making a choice for you will catapult you towards all the travel opportunities you’ve ever wanted.
About the writer
Esther is an English Literature Graduate from Manchester in the UK, writing alongside her full-time job in fundraising. When she’s not obsessing over her next trip, you can find her at the gym, eating good food or reading her book! To keep up to date with her writing, check out her website: https://estherpurves.contently.com/
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