In the month of February, I decided to share 28 reasons why I fell in love with solo travel—mostly as a way to keep my mind off the fact that I’ve never had a Valentine. But this practice ended up doing so much more for me than simply keeping my mind occupied. It made me realize just how much solo travel has added to my life.
At first, the idea felt obvious. But as I began writing those 28 reasons, the list slowly transformed into something deeper: 28 ways solo travel has helped heal my trauma, brought joy into my life, taught me lessons, supported my growth, and made me stronger. I remember thinking, wow—isn’t this list actually a beautiful expression of what true love is? Not the flowers-and-chocolates, kiss-on-the-cheek kind of love—but the truest kind, the kind that challenges you and pushes you to become better.
I am a certified lover girl. I think about love a lot. I’ve studied it, and one of my favorite definitions comes from Bell Hooks, who wrote that love is “the will to extend oneself for the purpose of nurturing one’s own or another’s spiritual growth through respect, responsibility, compassion, trust, and truth-telling.” I love this definition because it shifts love from a passive feeling into an active verb—a choice and a practice that requires continuous effort and care. As I reflected on these 28 reasons I fell in love with solo travel, I began to see all the ways solo traveling embodies that definition for me.
On one of my videos about the 28 reasons I fell in love with solo travel, a follower commented, “This sounds like you’re your own one true love, and you express that love through travel.” I thought that was a beautiful sentiment, but it also made me realize something deeper: solo travel has been a practice of love.
I’ve struggled for many years with self-love, and I still wrestle with insecurities. But solo travel forced me to be alone with myself—and to practice a kind of self-care that went far beyond face masks and candles. It required commitment, presence, and the continuous effort in care that Bell Hooks wrote about. After years of hating myself—my body, the way I walked, and all the things we’re taught to hate about ourselves as teenage girls—solo travel became the practice that helped me fall in love with myself again.
