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How traveling solo revealed an underlying crisis

It's been three years since my last solo journey.

In 2016 I wandered through Visayas for a month. Good friends joined me on some legs of the trip, interesting strangers shared my journey through the rest.

I clearly remember when it happened. It was a beautiful day and I was sitting in front of the beach, right outside my rented tiny cottage, when this slow, sinking feeling crept in. I don't know why I was doing what I did.

Maybe it was aggravated by the scenery - the turquoise sea, waves gently lapping on the shore, surrounded by the quietness of it all. I was sitting in the middle of beauty and still there was that nagging question, "What the f*** am I doing this for again?".

"Because I can", along with other reasons that I came up with, were all unconvincing.

It made me feel guilty. For all the freedom that I wanted and finally had, the location independence I dreamt of years back and worked so hard for, I was ashamed to acknowledge that there was a tinge …
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