Hard Traveling

As I was driving to work this morning, I realized traveling (both for work and for fun) has been mentally difficult for me since Sami passed away. Over the last two years, I’ve told myself - and others - that leaving home is more difficult now logistically. I need to find someone to care for my animals and water my garden. This time of year, I worry about being gone if a fire starts close to home. In the winter time, I worry about winter weather. But this morning, I realized that all of those things were true when Sami was alive. Yes, she could take care of chores when I traveled for work. And yes, she typically arranged for a pet sitter when we traveled together. But I mostly looked forward to traveling then - and I didn’t worry so much about being away from home. So what has changed?

Some days, I wonder if I got rid of my two mules, my four sheep, and my livestock guardian dog, if traveling would be easier. If I could just pick up my border collies and go! But I suspect my concern for caring for the animals is a crutch, that there’s some mental or emotional block. Similarly, wildfire is a serious threat in my community. But I’ve worked at preparing my property to survive a fire - there’s always more I can do, but I feel like my efforts at creating defensible space and hardening my home have helped reduce the danger.

So what is it? Why am I so reluctant? Why do I plan multiday trips like the one I’ve planned for this weekend and then back out as the departure date grows closer? Why am I afraid to leave home?

Reflecting on Sami’s illness, I suspect part of my reluctance stems from the after-effects of feeling like I needed to be on call around the clock to care for Sami. Of remembering the feeling when I left the house in July 2023 to go grocery shopping and came home to an ambulance in the driveway after Sami’s final seizure.

This residual feeling has carried forward during this summer of helping to care for my folks. I have felt like I’m taking a risk every time I travel overnight - what if something happens? What if they need me? What if there’s a crisis?

But I suspect my hesitation is also related to my grieving process. Sometimes I feel as though I shouldn’t be having fun. Other times, I feel like I can’t bear to be around other people. My introversion and introspection sometimes keep me from going out into the world - especially because my work often requires extroversion. Sometimes being home - doing chores, running my sawmill, stacking my firewood - feels more therapeutic than being out in the world. But maybe this is a crutch, too?

These thoughts lead me to conclude that perhaps part of my hesitancy is that I’m still adjusting to going places by myself. More accurately, I suppose, since I traveled alone before Sami died, I’m adjusting to coming home by myself. Coming home to an empty house.

Some days, I think I should simply force myself to get out and travel more. I would like to see both girls this fall. I’d like to spend some time in the mountains. I’m looking forward to our trip to Monterey for the half marathon in November (mostly because I’ll be there with family and friends). But today, as I contemplate heading north to see friends and celebrate the life of a colleague who passed away this summer, I’m struggling with whether I want to go.