8 Flights, 5 Weeks, A Not-Quite-2-Year-Old And Me: Here’s What I Learned
Travelling solo with a toddler isn’t everyone’s idea of anxiety management or fun, even…So why did I decide to hit a multi-location, long-haul trip with my daughter of 23 months after most probably the toughest 4 years of my life?…
I’m cosy in my bed, laptop perched on my knee while Ruby naps out her 2nd birthday; but 4 days after returning from our 4 and a half week trip to Bali and Sydney.
I’m pretty sure I’m still running a touch of the good ole jetlag; alongside an aircon cold I picked up that’s driving me insane – more so because of constant dropping of
“oh, I hope it’s not coronovirus”
- Each time I have an innocent little cough… And, well, the holiday comedown.
I’m going to keep the backstory as brief as possible so that I can crack straight into the juice of what I learned on our travels, which was A LOT…
The Backstory
So, my name is Amanda Jayne and I’m the ripe-but-fresh-ish age of 32; I’m a single mum to my darling Ruby Roo and have been going solo since I found out she took root as my womb fruit.
I’ve come through more than my fair share of trauma, trials and tribulations over the years, all stemming from the loss of both of my parents to alcohol abuse.
The fall-out from that alone was enough to kick off a world of unhealthy (and healthy) coping mechanisms; various battles with mental health and a badass warrior war with myself to forge a pretty great career along the way.
Becoming a mum had me face some of my biggest obstacles and emotional wars to date.
I moved cross-country to have Ruby, faced familial emotional abuse and abandonment, and one helluva fight to get the right support for my mental health.
However, I also gained a wonderful daughter, amazing genuine friends, chosen family and made huge moves forward in fear.
Namely, one being deciding to travel across the world with my little girl despite not feeling anywhere near ready.
The Plan
It started out as a pipe dream. One that was there to give me hope, but that I didn’t actually see myself setting out to actually achieve.
Forever, I had daydreamed about traveling but never set my feet in the direction to actually take my actually-not-so-lazy ass out and do it.
When I was working as a Personal Trainer in London I could absolutely afford it; telling myself I couldn’t, and that I was too busy, instead of admitting I was just too damn scared to.
When I was pregnant so many people I barely knew would come up to me and question my choices, warning me that I’d never be able to do XYZ; including traveling. Sometimes goading me into re-thinking my pregnancy altogether.
Who does that?!
When Ruby was only small, I’d already endured unforgiving levels of post-partum depression and insomnia, meaning that most nights I was only sleeping 2 hours a night from the sheer emotional pain.
To keep hope; to fight this depression; I needed to hold onto goals and dreams like beacons of light in an overbearing storm that had been beating me to my knees.
I’d prove that I could do it and that I could have a life that Ruby and I could be proud of.
I decided on Bali.
When my Aunty Diane, my guardian angel and chosen family, had taken me to lunch for my birthday, she encouraged me to talk to a travel agent, so I did. Despite not knowing how I was going to make it possible.
I’d make it possible.
The Purpose
To make it plausible, I’d plan the trip around making some connections for my business and it’s building; it’s rebuilding.
I look back now and laugh. Being a diagnosed perfectionist, I’ve a habit of taking on way more than I can humanly possibly manage, but it’s also how I got as far in life as I did despite multiple traumas.
Travelling across the world solo with a not-quite-2-year-old is a full time effort alone, that being said — I did my talk in Sydney for WeWork and I’m proud as I could be for it.
No, the real purpose of this trip was to remind me who I am and what I’m capable of.
The sad fact is that emotional abuse can strip you of your self-worth, self-belief and can have you questioning your own identity.
That’s what it did to me.
Instead of staying in an uncomfortable comfort zone, I knew I had to throw myself into the big wide world to figure me out again.
This was no mean feat; bordering on crazy, it tested me to my limits while I was still all so fragile from the years gone by.
But it worked.
The Fear And Anxiety
Anxiety and depression kept me in a comfort zone far below where I was comfortable, but it felt safe.
The funny thing, or not-so-funny thing about feeling safe or feeling at home is that they aren’t often safe or homely. In the throes of being emotionally abused I had learned to accept what I was told I was worth, where I should be and what I should do.
What I tasked myself with doing here was to break free of the limits that weren’t mine and just give it a good go.
There was no way that this was going to be easy, or in reach; given I wouldn’t even attempt it when I was on my feet.
Feelings of anxiety, I have learned through practice, subside when we realise that whatever is on the other side of that fear isn’t so scary.
It subsides; it goes away…
A new level; the next level of the comfort zone is on the other side; on which I could build new strength and new life experience.
I pushed through in fear.
Here’s What I Learned
Here are a few things I learned on that life-changing journey with my little girl. There are oh-so-many more but I can save them for another time…
Travelling With A Toddler Is As Hard As You Make It
Limiting beliefs and freaking myself out before getting on the first plane wasn’t an option.
Talking about The Law Of Attraction is pretty apt here really.
Feel shit about the travel — and it’s probably going to turn out shit… Feel good about the travel? Well, it could still end up a bit shit, but it’s less likely to be.
There’s a million different blogs out there with tips on how to travel with a toddler and they’re all pretty spot-on to be fair, but I think my main tip is to keep a check on how you’re feeling yourself.
If I feel anxious, grumpy and agitated it’s pretty sure-fire that Ruby is going to be agitated, grumpy and want to run around the plane and scream when I tell her not to.
That being said, it’s really hard to stay zen when you’ve been awake for 27 hours and still have 8 hours left of the second flight in an 18-hour air-time trip.
I had to dig deep. I had to ask for help more than I’d like and I sure as hell had to repeatedly forgive myself for hating my life at various points and look at ways I could make myself feel better next time.
If You Don’t Ask You Don’t Get
As an adult child of alcoholics I have some issues surrounding weak boundaries, they just aren’t strong enough. That’s linked to the low self-worth and the constant of my reality being denied to me.
I’ve been working on this for a while now, if there’s one really brutal way to test you enough to strengthen your boundaries, travel with a toddler wins.
If I didn’t assert boundaries with myself and others while we were on the move, I would have no money because I would’ve given in to every tauter that hassled me in Sanur and Canggu, Ruby would have ran around the plane and jumped on passengers all through the emirates flights and I would have thrown more tantrums than necessary.
I boundaried my ass off.
But yeah, I digress, if you don’t ask you don’t get.
Traveling any distance with a small human is hard work. When they’re under 2 you save on a flight fare because they’re an on-lap passenger — Not so great if you want a rest or don’t like dead legs.
Quite often airlines will let you sit where there are free seats to give you a hand; particularly if you’re a single parent. BUT if you don’t ask, you don’t get.
This alone was proof to me that I was making progress on my boundaries because I was asking for that help even though it made me uncomfortable and the codependent side of me didn’t want to be a pest.
I did it! WIN.
Airbnb Is A Great Way To Travel
I wasn’t sure. When you hear all kinds of horror stories it’s hard to decide whether or not to take the jump and book an Airbnb.
After googling and blog-hopping furiously I decided to take the chance and book some, saving us much-needed pennies for our travels.
The results were varied but all in all it was a great decision and we stayed in some great places.
There are rules though.
Like reading through the left comments from verified guests, with a minimum of 10 reviews and of course checking the location, amenties and messaging the host to ask questions about suitability.
It’s not so great when Ruby decides to take a violet permanent marker to the carpet of the Airbnb we stayed at in Sydney though…
That story is for another time…
I Have To Work On My Ego
This sounds really self-judgemental and it is in a sense, but from spending the last couple years really reading up and studying how to work on the lasting effects trauma has had on my life, ego shows up a lot.
Without going too much into it (it could get long) it’s the side of me that wants to prove a point, be flashy, make excuses why things aren’t going the way I’d want.
It’s the part of me that is the perfectionist; doing things I don’t really want to do to get things I don’t really want or need, in order to impress people that don’t have a place in my life; because those that do love me irrespective of status, belongings, and achievements.
Throwing myself into a different culture and unfamiliar surroundings, stripping away creature comforts and daily cheats had me realize my capabilities and what’s important. What I have in my little family unit and my fabulous, genuine friends.
It’s put a whole new perspective on my burnout habit to achieve a lifestyle that I don’t even really need for us, when what matters is time and how I spend it.
I’m Allowed To Rest, Grieve; and Find Single Motherhood Tough
The last point ties in with this one. I’ve lived in fear of resting or taking a break for around 7 years now. The fear that if I stop or take a break; especially when I’m battling tough times; that I’m going to become an addict too, break Ruby’s heart and die.
Sounds dramatic, right? But not really when that was my reality and experience.
Both of my parents became addicts, broke my heart and died.
It’s been my biggest fear for a long time and it’s certainly not escaped me as a parent as my mum fought really hard and it still happened.
However, I’ve not suffered in silence and tried to battle it alone. I don’t find solace in the bottle and I constantly work on personal development and self-care.
More recently I’ve started to loosen the grip on the reigns of my life; trusting that I’ve got this.
I’m allowed to grieve and feel all those feelings that I worked to burnout. I’m allowed to rest on the days that the chronic fatigue and pain really need it more than movement.
I’m also allowed to find things tough as a single mum figuring it out on her own. It’s a hard job, motherhood, it’s exceptionally hard when there’s no other party to hand my little munchkin over to for a breather too.
It’s also so important that I show myself self-compassion and kindness for many reasons, one that really sells it to me is that it is ultimately how I become an even better mum. I’ll be more rested, I’ll also be setting an example that self-love and compassion are not a luxury but a fundamental human right.
Day 1, Every Time, Sucks
Every. Single. Time.
Every time that plane touched down, (8 times in 5 weeks) was a shit-mix cocktail of relief, exhaustion, pent-up emotion, tearfulness and agitation.
Ok, maybe not every time… Let’s go with half of the flights. It did get easier.
My mind, like many others in the adult child of alcoholics arena, heads straight for the negative; straight for the catasrophic end-of-the-world tantrum status when I’m wildly overtired and far out of my comfort zone.
The only way I could control this, I learned, was to remember that DAY 1 SUCKS.
I proclaimed my hate (strong, I know, I didn’t mean it) for both Bali and Sydney when I arrived in various parts, all from overwhelm, fears from googling to hard and just feeling lost.
Each time I gave it a day, got a relatively good sleep and settled in, I found love in each spot. The problem wasn’t any of the places, but where the hell my head was at. That was a pretty great lesson for me.
I also mastered not messaging my Aunty Diane each time we arrived other than to say we had arrived so that I could process these thoughts without giving them running power.
Insurance For Sure
Forever thankful when I don’t have to use insurance, of course, I’ll still not be one of those people who doesn’t get it.
I can’t imagine hoping for the best when hopping to another country when therea re so many uncertainties and things that could go wrong and be very expensive to fix.
I’ve known of plenty true stories from friends of friends who’ve had unfortunate accidents and can’t get home; it doesn’t bear thinking about.
It was just nice to know that if our bags got lost we’d be covered (very possible, on round 2 Bali we were waiting around 45 minutes at the carousel for bags to slowly trickle their way out and one woman told us her story of having £3000 of luggage lost — a time which she hadn’t had insurance either. She’d said it wasn’t the cost, more the irreplacable items that hurt the most).
That if one of us got sick, we could get care; big deal since the mozzies loved us both, Bali belly was also a very real possibility when Ruby kept putting her hands in her mouth and it was a battle to trim and clean those mini claws she was growing.
That if there were any natural distasters or emergencies broke that we could get home, handy if coronovirus caused a raucous in the ends we went; which luckily they didn’t.
Mosquitos Don’t Give A What
Urgh. These guys.
These guys were the ones that had my worry hat on for a huge portion of our time in Bali despite no one else really being that fussed.
After some forum perusing it became clear that there was a bit of a mozzie-lottery as to whether or not you’d actually come down with something after a bite, or in our case rounds of bites.
I had been convinced that if you were bitten, well, that was it. Just panic.
Not so much.
We’re still in that incubation period where you could still get sick, but it’s been done now, so there’s nothing I can do but watch out and just be zen.
For the first couple of weeks, I worried but we remained unbitten, even in Ubud which I was most worried about especially given we were traveling in the rainy season.
It was Syndey that I had been feasted on. Not thinking that mosquitoes were an issue in Sydney as it wasn’t brought up in our consultations, I threw caution to the wind and gaily tossed the Autan aside. Alas, I was chowed down on like a kebab at the end of a solid night out.
Ruby remained untouched… Until we set ourselves up in Canggu.
The little bastards apparently hide under tables in reastaurants, so when she would run off to steal staplers, cutlery and whatever else she could find to collect on the floor in the middle of the eatery, she would come back with fresh new bites.
We were lathered up in creams, covering Ruby up wasn’t easy and sometimes they would just bite straight through leggings anyway.
I learned that mosquitoes are c words and they don’t give a what, they will bite you if you smell tasty. (I’m an 0 negative so apparently I’m freaking lush).
Next time, I’ll try harder.
Plan, Plan, Plan… But Don’t Over-plan
I love a plan.
When it comes to travel I think you have to strike the balance between not enough planning and planning too much.
I wanted to have a certain amount of fluidity to our travel time, not picking out all the spots, or even locations we would go to until we were out there, living it and I could get a feel for what we’d actually like to do.
Planning out time-saving and stress-saving things like airport transfers, money exhanges and understanding how to get where and what the area was like was really worth doing though.
I didn’t really do that for Sydney, thinking oh it’s ok, it’ll be just like London, but in Australia. What a dick.
Sure, I lived in London for 5 years, when I first arrived I cried for feeling lost there too.
Picking and choosing bits to do out there is much more fun. For one it gives the freedom to be able to take tips from locals and folk who live there and know what’s worth doing, instead of being sucked into all the tourist traps all the time.
Planning enough to cut some stress but not so much that we didn’t miss out on cool opportunities to freestyle it was the perfect balance.
Try To Be A Warrior Not A Worrier
This was my on-the-road mantra and I didn’t ace it much, but I gave it a good fricking shot.
They say that worrying does you no good; that you burn a whole load of energy preparing for an eventuality that will probably never come and have you missing out on a load of cool things too.
I’d say that’s pretty accurate.
On the road I had to be on-the-ball and dextrous enough to be ready to change at each and every moment, which was pretty empowering.
There’s only so much you can do with a few bags of your things, a small supply of go-to foods and UK nappies and a limited knowledge of your surroundings.
It’s kind of like being in the Brownies all over again but with responsibilites; like my own small human.
I had to warrior it out and be strong. If I freaked out and worried, getting all upset and shit, Ruby, as sure as, would follow suit. I had to keep my cool, breathe and figure things out as best as I could with what I had.
I spent far too much time worrying about mosquitoes and Bali Belly that I’m pretty certain I missed out on some great opporunities to better connect with Ruby and to explore a bit more.
Given my nerves and the all-so recent battles with my mental health though, I did the best with what I had; especially having thrown myself into the crazy deep of deep ends in breaking out of comfort zones.
Hindsight is a wonderful thing. The main thing I’ve done with it from my travels has been to use it to fuel my gratitude for having the experiences; gained a greater appreciation for home and my family; and I’ve learned once again of my capabilities and strengths.
Meaning that all the challenges that lay ahead of us feel surmountable.
Here’s to an adventurous 2020 and decade onwards!
Amanda Jayne is a freelance writer and also Personal Trainer of over a decade. A single mum to Ruby since pregnancy, she is working hard on personal development and career development to be the best mum she can be. A Battling C-PTSD Warrior she is determined to give others hope that mental health battles don’t mean they can’t follow their goals and to dreams.