The Moment That Everything Changed

The ‘moment’ when everything changed for me wasn’t a single instant. It was a gradual build-up of resentment and fear that eventually led to the end of my marriage. I stayed just long enough to see my youngest child fly the nest to university, and when that happened, I realized I didn’t have to live in a marriage that no longer served me. Not that my marriage was bad—I was lucky in many ways—but we had grown apart, and nothing was going to heal that rift.

When that realization hits, whether as the swift blow of divorce papers or the quiet dawning that you want more from life than your marriage can give, it leaves a moment of silence and the question hanging in the air: “Who am I now?”

Stepping Out of Who I Used to Be

That moment creates a vacuum. You’re no longer who you used to be. Life’s mundane tasks—paying bills, doing laundry, eating healthy—still continue, but the roles of wife, partner, and sometimes parent can change overnight. For me, I no longer needed to clean a massive house, do my ex-husband’s laundry, shop for everyone, or listen to his mundane stories from work.

Psychologists call this an identity disruption. The roles you’ve inhabited for years deteriorate, and as humans, we instinctively scramble to fill the gap with new ones. For me, the silence was frightening—I didn’t know who I was anymore. I needed to find the “new me.” But a small voice in my head cautioned me not to rush. So I chose to fill that space thoughtfully, booking a solo trip to a place I had always dreamed of: Machu Picchu, Peru.

How Travel Removes All Expectations

Travel removes all expectations of who you are—or who you used to be. No one on the plane, in Peru, or on the tours knew me. They didn’t know my old roles, and that lack of expectation gave me freedom. I could experiment with parts of my personality that had lain dormant.

Neuroscience research shows that stepping into novel situations activates the brain’s dopaminergic pathways, which are linked to reward, motivation, and learning. In other words, trying new things strengthens the brain’s circuits for confidence and adaptability. When I traveled with my ex-husband, he usually handled the talking and organizing. Now, I had to take on that role, experimenting with my manner, my perspective, and my presence. That removal of expectations created space for growth.

Creating Space

My travel routines may look very different from yours, but I sought solitude: long walks alone, solitary meals in cafes, flights where I was awake while everyone else slept, train and taxi rides where I didn’t speak the language. This gave me plenty of time to think.

This reflective time allowed me to process emotions from the divorce, understand my choices, and reestablish my values. Neuroscience tells us that periods of quiet and solitude enhance activity in the default mode network, a brain network associated with self-reflection, creativity, and problem-solving. I was observing myself, considering what mattered, and mentally rehearsing a new identity.

Small Acts of Courage

Much of this process involved doing things I’d never done before: buying something in a shop where I didn’t speak the language, navigating unmarked trails, or figuring out coded lockers at thermal baths. These small acts of courage strengthened my self-belief.

Psychologically, each success created a positive feedback loop. My brain encoded these experiences in memory, reinforcing the belief that “I am capable.” Slowly, my identity rewired itself toward strength, resilience, and agency—the very qualities I had learned to suppress in my marriage.

Learning to Take Up Space Again

The effects started small but grew with each new trip. Every solo challenge, every new experience, expanded my sense of self. My identity as an independent, confident, and creative woman didn’t form overnight—and it’s still evolving. That’s part of the beauty: growth never really ends.

I used to make myself look small because I felt small. I used to excuse my existence. But each journey allowed me to take up more space—to be seen, to assert myself, to inhabit my life fully. Travel gave me the courage to be more rounded, confident, and comfortable in my own body.

You Don’t Have to Travel Far

Your travel doesn’t need to be dramatic. Sometimes the most powerful journeys begin with the simple act of deciding to go somewhere alone.

If you’re navigating a major life transformation and feel that travel could help, download my Solo Trip Reset Guide for reflective questions, planning essentials, and trip inspiration.