Skunk Spray, Banana Slugs, & Doing Hard Things
My first solo trip to another country
Growing up in the mountains of Colorado means I have plenty of childhood stories burned into my brain.
Like the time I had to go to school wearing clothes that reeked of skunk because our dog chased one into the garage. Or the day I found a tick on my neck at the lunch table and, instead of discreetly handling it like a normal person, flicked it onto the bench and became the hero for warning the boy next to me that it was skittering his way.
And of course, there’s the unforgettable time I sat on a cactus while sliding down a hill and spent the next horrifying hour lying down in the kitchen with my nudey-bootie up in the air while my mom muffled laughs as she plucked the stickers out..
But there were so many good times, too. We camped a lot, in a massive Army Surplus tent my mom bought for a dollar (at least that’s what it smelled like). We hauled that thing all over Colorado, California, and up to the Pacific Northwest. Orcas Island was my favorite, even though it’s where I saw my first banana slug (indeed, the size of a banana) and, to my horror, nearly stepped on a dead seal while hopping between rocks on the beach.
But that’s also where I got my first puppy and won a homemade chocolate cake in a competitive game of musical chairs at the summer arts and crafts festival… that was a phenomenal day!
Sometimes I forget about the good childhood memories. Like most of us, I tend to get hung up on the negative stuff — my teen years filled with very questionable choices that still haunt me.
Do you ever forget about the good stuff? And then, when you start recalling one or two moments, suddenly more come rushing back? Maybe your grandma’s perfume and deep hugs, or your neighbor’s wiggly chocolate lab?
This isn’t a reminder to “focus on the positive,” although if you can, I highly recommend it. It’s far better than obsessing over the hard parts.
I’m actually writing to challenge you—to step outside your familiar zone. Because, and this is where the childhood memories come in, many of us have retreated into motherhood (or adulthood) and gotten very comfortable with who we’ve become.
If you’ve been with me for a while, you might remember me talking about doing one hard thing every day. I still believe in that to my core. I just stopped mentioning it because, honestly, these days it feels like getting out of bed can be hard. And don’t get me started on our declining hormones, weight gain, growing teens, aging parents (and aging selves), evolving friendships.
But as I prepared for my first international solo trip to visit my daughter studying abroad in Italy, I realized I haven’t been challenging myself enough.
Wait. I don’t think I told you my oldest is in another country, did I? Or that I’m getting ready to board a plane to visit her by myself? Welp, now ya know, and planning the trip nearly did me in.
Doing hard things, like so many things, is a muscle—it needs flexing.
Clearly, I’ve let myself go in that regard. My “do difficult things” muscle is squishy.
Initially, I was giddy at the idea of traveling by myself to spend a couple of weeks with my girl. I mean, exploring with one of my favorite people on the planet? No meals to make, no schedules to track, no emotional labor to expend. It sounded like a real vacation.
Yet my anxiety slowly eclipsed my excitement.
The moment I booked my ticket, the countdown began—not to my once-in-a-lifetime adventure, but to the twelve-hour flight and the foreign airports I’d have to navigate alone.
For the record, my last international flight ended with a migraine so severe I wound up in the ER. So it’s not like my fear was unwarranted. That was a brutal, brutal trip across the Atlantic, and I never want to repeat.
But I knew I could make this work. I had to. And this is where those childhood memories of being more adventurous come back into play.
There have been so many times in my life when I did the difficult thing and survived. Most of the time, I didn’t even realize it was difficult—I just tried it. It worked or it didn’t. Somewhere along the way, though, I got comfortable. I’m not mad about it, but I do want to find ways to do hard things comfortably.
Yes, I hear how ridiculous that sounds. Let me rephrase.
I asked myself, How can I make this trip easy?
Then I identified the top three things stressing me out and solved for each one:
Fear of getting another migraine on the plane.
Fear of navigating a massive airport in a foreign country.
And, to a much lesser degree, figuring out what to wear. (An ongoing life project.)
Once I knew what was worrying me, I could start problem-solving—or at least try.
My flight leaves today, so you’ll have to wait for the results. But I feel pretty good about the system I’m developing (from how to pack to what to bring on the plane to how to research places I’m going). I mean, if one of my post-raising-kids goals is to travel, why not figure out how to do it REALLY well?
For example, this sweet treat of a photo right here:
I found an incredible head-hugging travel pillow contraption that hooks to your seat (tried it in the car—it’s amazing and I can’t wait to use it on the plane!)
Then I spent a few hours (not exaggerating) on YouTube learning about the airport, customs, and taxi systems.
And you might roll your eyes at this last one, but I created an outfit cheat sheet in my notes app on my phone. This took the stress out of packing, and I can confidently say, I did not overpack—even though it looks like it.
The white suitcase has approximately 4 of my things in it. The rest? Extra clothes for my girl and a massive Trader Joe’s haul.
Now, with my anxiety points handled, I feel something I didn’t expect: ready. Not just to see my daughter, but for the challenge of solo travel.
Because maybe adventure doesn’t look like questionable tents and campfires anymore. Maybe it looks like boarding a plane alone and trusting that whatever happens, I’ll handle it.
I’ll report back next week from Rome—so yes, you can absolutely feel fancy getting international correspondence.
👉 Who you are today may or may not be who you were before kids. Challenge yourself. Do something scary every week and you’ll quickly figure out who you want to be.
Also, did you know you can listen to my emails in the Substack app? There’s an arrow at the top right. It turns your emails into mini podcasts!