Howdy, blog fans!
I just got back from a long weekend in the mountains of North Carolina. I'd been to Asheville once before with an ex-boyfriend, but this time I went by myself. I rented a car (I love the Saturn but she's getting to be an elder) and drove the handful of hours to stay alone in a stranger's house that I booked on Air BnB. It was exhilarating.
I got a lot of questioning surrounding this trip, regarding why I choose to go places by myself. Every trip I've been on in the last two years (the ones out of state) has been a solo trip. Nashville, Auburn, St. Petersburg, Little Switzerland, Asheville -- all of them consisted of me, myself and I. I met up with acquaintances or friends for meals on a couple of the ventures, and I made friends too, but each time it was just me hitting the open road (or boarding the airplane).
I've found I really like it that way. It gives me a feeling of accomplishment, and it helps with my panic and anxiety issues. After all, if I'm busy checking my GPS while driving around a new town in search of coffee and book stores, I don't have time to panic.
It isn't like I don't get scared, driving up the side of a mountain in the middle of the night or wandering around a new place with no best friends at my side. But my bravery pays off in the end, and I come home to Charleston feeling like I can do just about anything.
I guess there's some truth about getting outside of one's comfort zone.