For years, traveling had always seemed like a luxury to me—something reserved for honeymoons, family vacations, or when life felt particularly celebratory. But as I’ve grown older, I’ve realized it’s so much more than that. Traveling isn’t about running away from my daily life or escaping my responsibilities; it’s about discovering the person I am when everything familiar is stripped away.

Each new destination feels like a mirror reflecting a part of me I hadn’t noticed before. In the bustling streets of Paris, I found my love for art and beauty reignited. On the quiet beaches of Bali, I discovered the part of me that craves stillness and solitude. Hiking through the rugged trails of Patagonia, I realized how resilient I truly am, even when the climb feels impossible.

Every journey teaches me something new—about the world, yes, but also about myself. Traveling reminds me of the strength I have to navigate unfamiliar places and the courage to embrace the unknown. It shows me how much joy can be found in the little moments: the smile of a stranger, the taste of a local dish, or the breathtaking view after a long trek.

So, no, I’m not running away when I book that plane ticket or pack my bag. I’m running toward the pieces of me waiting to be uncovered, each destination helping me build a more complete version of who I am. Traveling isn’t an escape—it’s my way of coming home to myself.