The Untethering-Finding Personal Power Through Solo Travel

My graduation from college was far from any romcom version I’d ever attended over a big bowl of popcorn. 

I was 31 and I felt ancient in comparison to most of my class. 

I’d worked my ass off to put myself through art college once I’d found the bravery or perhaps the sheer audacity to go pursue my dreams. 

I had been working a job at a grocery store for about 12 years thus far. Something deep within finally moved me into action. Perhaps it was the fear I would grow old and die without ever having lived as the artist I was born to be. 

Upon graduation, many of my classmates were taking internships in New York. 

This seemed to be “the way” to work yourself up and into a successful fashion career. 

I just couldn’t do it. The idea of working for another’s dream, yet again in my life, was torture to my soul. 

Here I was with a degree and skillset of a promising fashion designer and I didn’t know how I was going to make it work.

One day I was browsing my local library and I happened to pick up a book about silk painting. 

There was something about it that spoke to me beyond a slight interest. 

I checked out all the books they had on the subject and spent the next few days devouring them. Soon I had ordered all the products needed to start my experimentation. 

I quickly fell head over heels in love with the process. Life was my inspiration. I’d come home from evening walks and mix up the colors I had witnessed in the sunset. 

I had found a new lens. I spent a good deal of my spare time painting. My skills quickly improved and I decided to start implementing my sewing and pattern making knowledge to create kimonos, dresses, tops and more from my paintings. 

Many times the painted silk wouldn’t be quite large enough to cut out all of my pattern pieces so I began to curate other fabrics to compliment the design. 

I truly felt I was on the brink of a groundbreaking new trend in fashion. I hadn’t seen anything else like the work I was doing. 

Each garment I made was one of a kind. 

It was time to price my work and bring it to the market. 

This became another area that I had to experiment with. I had no mentor. My business marketing plan was limited to what I knew from my years in the grocery industry. 

Strangely enough, art school did not teach entrepreneurship. We were groomed to take an entry level job and build a career, not our own business. In fact, an instructor once told me that I couldn’t make a living as a freelancer. 

This was in a time before social media existed. There were websites but I was far from holding the know how or the financial resources to go that route. 

I did have a good friend who made a living as an artist. He was a photographer and frame maker. During the summer months, he traveled the states showing at the art festivals. 

We began discussing the logistics of entering artwork in these shows and I became enthralled by the possibilities that awaited me.

Dale helped me get myself setup for this exciting endeavor. 

He was such a treasure of a friend to me. He photographed my wares and produced slides for me to submit to the art show juries. Learning the ropes from him was priceless. I became physically and mentally prepared. 

I was thrilled to be accepted into a roster of excellent shows that summer. A few of them were out of towners so I had to request more time off work and book myself some hotel rooms. I wasn’t yet bringing in the money I needed to quit my job but fortunately my years of seniority (and absolute determination) made room for a somewhat flexible schedule. 

I did have another challenge on my hands. My emotional immaturity and desire to be adored had brought me into a mentally abusive relationship a couple of years before. It had been so much for me to both work and attend college that I hadn’t yet figured a way out of this unpleasant situation. We lived and worked together. He very much disliked the idea of me going out to the shows, particularly the overnights without him. On the outside, I may have played the girlfriend who would miss her man but on the inside, I was giddy with the idea of freedom and the potential of making enough money from my art to support myself doing what I loved.

I longed for a life where I felt encouraged and safe to be fully me.

To have no one to answer to, especially not a boss or a controlling alcoholic boyfriend whose eyes were fixated on my every move along with a tongue quick to speak demeaning remarks.

The first time I packed up my old Jeep Cherokee, hitting the road with all my show gear and my overnight bag, I felt something completely different than ever before. 

I had never solo traveled. 

I had never been alone with myself like this. In total self reliance. Self directed. Self led. I was in love. What was this incredible sensation it took me 30 something years to feel?

One of my first shows was in the San Juan islands in Washington state. What I now remember most isn’t the set up of my 10x10 tent, the metal grid walls I carried piece by piece from my jeep or the arrangement of garments on my clothing rack and dress forms.

What I remember was the hours spent on the island outside the festival hours. Walking the little town. Going inside every boutique that beckoned. Buying a coffee at the local latte stand. Visiting a resort I’d read of in travel magazines and imagining a day where I might charter a boat to explore nearby waters. I treated myself to a kayak tour, I dined alone, slept alone and met new people, all the while feeling the freedom of being myself in those moments. 

At times it was overwhelming to have such an array of choices at my fingertips. To be free to choose where I wanted to eat, to sit and take everything in. 

That summer, I had a plethora of these life changing experiences. 

I had set out to find a pathway to selling my art. What I found was so much more profound. 

I didn’t know it at the time but I was finding my personal power. My inner strength and guidance. 

It wasn’t too long after that festival circuit that I found the courage to leave the toxic relationship. I stepped into a new identity.

I became a woman who did not need a man, or anyone to take care of her.

I had started to become untethered.