Everyone has their own battles β married, single, divorced, separated, with or without children, no oneβs life is as easy as it may appear on the surface. Each of us is just trying to get through, to find our own version of peace; whether that comes through work, family, passion, or something else entirely.
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For me, peace came through travel. Not luxury vacations, not Instagram-perfect getaways, but real, raw, healing journeys. Travelling became my escape, my survival tool and my therapy. It gave me something to look forward to, something that made me feel alive when everything else felt painfully still and suffocating.
I wasnβt always like this. There was a time I used to write about my emotions, about how I felt each day; the highs, the lows, the confusion, the grief. But over the years, that writing shifted. Now, I write about nature, about the roads I travel, about the people I meet and the places that heal me. Itβs no longer just about “what I feel” but itβs about what I experience and how I hope, in some way, to make a difference through it.
But donβt get me wrong, the struggles never ended. They just became quieter, harder to explain and easier to hide behind pictures of sunrises and sunsets, landscapes and trails.
Finances are always tight. Paying my sonβs school fee is a constant worry. Every time I return from a trip, a short, budget-friendly local one, my bank balance is near zero. And I start again, slowly saving up for the next journey. People see the photos and assume Iβm living a carefree life. They donβt see the budgeting, the sacrifices, the months of cutting corners just to make one trip possible.
They donβt see the weight I carry every single day.
Iβm a single mother, raising a teenage boy on my own; financially, emotionally and socially. Every decision I make is mine alone. Worrying constantly whether Iβm doing enough or whether Iβm failing him in ways I can’t see yet. Every consequence, good or bad, willfully be my responsibility.
I worry constantly.
About his education.
His future.
His mental and emotional growth.
Whether Iβm doing enough.
Whether Iβm doing it right.
Because if I fail, I wonβt just be judged, Iβll be blamed. And when I try to share how I feel, people often brush it off.
Married friends tell me Iβm lucky β βYou donβt have to answer to anyone.β Single friends say, βAt least you have a child.β Friends with money say, βItβs great that you get to travel.β
But the truth is: Iβm tired. Mentally. Emotionally. Physically. Financially.
And Iβm tired β in ways that donβt always show.
I got separated when he was just a year old. Then came divorce.
And since then, itβs just been the two of us.
Fourteen long years.
Of navigating life without a partner.
A decade of breakdowns behind closed doors.
Of holding back tears while helping with homework.
Of pretending Iβm strong, even when Iβm not.
And now, as he enters his teenage years, Iβm struggling with something even harder; the fear that Iβve failed to build the connection I always dreamed of having with him.
Despite all the love, the effort, the sacrifices, I feel that gap. And it hurts more than anything. I post pictures not to show off, but because they remind me that Iβm still moving forward. They remind me that Iβve survived a lot, and Iβm still standing.
They remind me that itβs okay to find moments of joy, even if everything isnβt perfect.
When Iβm sitting in silence beside a river, watching a sunset or watching clouds hug the peaks or camping under the stars, I feel something I rarely feel elsewhere: peace. Nature accepts me in a way society doesnβt. It doesnβt judge me. It just accepts me.
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Iβm not sharing this for ππππππππ. Iβm sharing it for the woman who feels alone, who thinks sheβs failing, whoβs trying her best to hold herself together.
Youβre not alone.
Our stories are different, but the weight we carry inside is something I understand.
Iβm tired. But I keep going.
For my son. For myself. For who Iβm becoming.
And even on the days when life feels heavy, I remind myself that ππβπ πππππ ππππ ππ ππππ β one step, one journey, one quiet moment at a time.
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