Traveling for business seems glamorous. I get it – the subtly posted business class ticket, nights hanging out in clubs drinking champagne, the 5* hotel bed with perfectly folded sheets (that you’ll hardly sleep in) – but the truth is… that is such a sugar-coated version of what really goes on. Business travel is tough. And believe me, it's not as sexy as most of us portray online.
You may or may not know, right now I am in China for business (kinda). Here are 5 things I have seriously struggled with since I’ve been away… and elements of this life that I don't make an effort to post...
To be fair, I don’t have the most orderly schedule or itemized routine at the best of times, but being away from home? It’s fucked at best, non-existent at worst. Don’t get me wrong—being on the road can be fun (ok it can be so much fun). But it can also make you feel like you’re living in a spiral. Your sense of what needs to get done and how you’re gonna do it... weakens, like it doesn’t want to play the game you really need it to be playing.
- Personal Life at Home? Forget it
The days and nights away from your own bed can feel like they’re robbing you of your relationships at home. There’s nothing quite as lonely as sitting in an average-at-best bar, perusing apps on your phone, watching everyone—from your best friends to ex-boyfriends—living their best lives while you’re alone on the other side of the world.
Socials can be a double-edged sword. On one hand, Instagram keeps me connected to my world back home. But when you’re miles away, flicking through IG stories during happy hour while you’re alone? It hits a little differently. Seeing that you’re missing out on those random summer day drinking escapades… It’s a tough pill to swallow.
Despite my very sociable (sometimes too sociable 😅) personality, loneliness is something I can’t seem to escape, no matter how hard I try. It often sets in when I’m alone in my hotel room or even apartment. It’s when the world slows down, the chaos fades, and the silence gets louder (so fucking loud omg). In those moments, you start feeling the absence of normal life, the void of missing home, and the people you love.
The time zones are all messed up, so no one is online. The hotel room door closes, and suddenly, it sinks in: just how alone you are. Very alone, in a huge, empty bed… for one.
There’s one very sad and bittersweet side to travel, a side that has caused me to shed more tears than I care to admit. It’s the moment when you have to say goodbye to someone you've met, almost certain you’ll never cross paths again. It always seems to come too soon—people who enter your life so quickly often leave just as fast.
Saying goodbye means more than I’ll see you when I see you. It’s really wondering if you’ll ever see that person again. It’s the lump in your throat, the sting of tears in your eyes, and the very real ache in your heart when you whisper those final words, "Take care."
As I sat in a rooftop bar last week, spilling my emotional baggage to a pilot on a layover (who unintentionally became my therapist for the night), he said something that stuck with me: "But Chris" (or Lucy, iykyk), "Wouldn’t you rather feel these sad emotions now, instead of feeling nothing and never having experienced those moments?" And, well, Mr. Pilot Man—while we’ll probably never meet again, I’ll carry those words with me for the rest of my journeys. Thank you.
And then, there are the two words I loathe the most: “take care.” It’s that final goodbye, the moment you realize you’re back on your own after having company for however long. Those words feel like the ultimate send-off to solitude. After the shared conversations, experiences, and even the small talk, “take care” just hits different. It’s a reminder that they’re moving on, and you’re left behind to face whatever comes next… alone.