What Traveling with a Broken Heart Taught Me

I left Minnesota with hearts in my eyes, only for things to crumble weeks later.

The connection between travel, adventure, love, loss, and perseverance.

When I started my journey last November, I set out for a warmer climate. That brought me to Austin, Texas — a bustling city ripe with new experiences.

Before driving there, I jumped on some dating apps to meet some people to show me around the city, with a romantic spark being a "nice to have", not a "need to have."

Background and Story

Around this time last year, I met someone, and I fell — hard. Like, much harder than I have before.

We both did. Or so I had thought.

She was the first strong connection I had felt in a long time. Plus, I was embarking on a cross-country road trip with my dog, whom I adopted from my dying father 5 months before he died. There was a lot going on in my life, and I was eager to find someone with whom I could share feelings.

Fast-forward to the day I got to Austin. It was a hard, confusing day. My Airbnb was way smaller than I thought, and my dog started eating mystery acorns in the backyard, which I immediately thought were poisonous (they weren't). I called my mom in an anxious panic, wondering what I had just done.

After calming myself down a few hours later, this person and I went grocery shopping. It was a cute adventure!

But as soon as I returned to my place, something felt off. I had an idea of what was happening. I didn't want it to.

Remember how earlier I said I fell very hard for this person? Well, I wasn't kidding. She was beautiful, funny, thoughtful, interested. Why wouldn't I fall hard for this person? I wanted to do everything I could for her. I, too, wanted to be thoughtful, funny, and interested.

And I was those things — but I guess too much? She started saying, "You're so nice", "you're kind" — and I had heard those a few times in the past. In relationships that didn't last. You can see where this is going.

I've never understood this idea of someone not wanting a romantic relationship with someone labeled as nice. Like they want someone who is mean or seems disinterested. As if a relationship or someone's feelings are a game to be played. People have tried to explain that this is a thing, and it likely comes from relationships certain people have had in the past, or this sort of relationship is something they're used to.

But if they're still dating, isn't that a clear sign that a relationship built on a game doesn't work? Who am I kidding — apparently, the whole "nice guy" routine doesn't work either.

Anyway, that Friday — I got in on a Tuesday — she and I went to a concert. We held hands and danced, and she asked me to get dinner with her married friends later that week.

I was on top of the world — this was great!

Ultimately, after having asked a few times, dinner never panned out.

I asked if she wanted to get dinner — just her and I — but those plans never worked. I started to get fewer text responses. Voice messages even less.

The last time I saw her, we brought our dogs on a little hike to a river. The dogs got along great. It was a really fun, enjoyable day. I even wore shorts — I never wear shorts on dates! After we said our goodbyes, I knew that was the last time I'd see her.

I didn't want it to be, but it was. We would text occasionally afterward, but it eventually got too hard for me.

I built up this spite and animosity towards her, but that wasn't fair to her. What right do I have to be upset at her — it was all just bad timing for both of us. Admittedly, I was putting a ton of pressure on things working out when, in reality, I was resistant to letting things happen organically.

Since then, we've become better friends. I'm back in Minnesota — for now — and she is still in Austin. We've each dated other people and have kept in touch here and there.

I hoped some romantic spark would ignite this desire to try something long-distance, but that wasn't in the cards.

I like to think that things between us worked out differently in some alternate universe. There is some solace in that. Though the wound has healed, as it's been a year since she and I started talking, it's still healing.

What to learn from this?

Don't Fall So Hard?
It's hard to tell myself, "Don't fall for someone so hard," when in reality, it's sort of what I do. A lot of the love I give comes from a broken home — I don't want someone to leave like my mom left my dad.

That's a hard sentence to write, but it's true. It's a breakthrough I realized in therapy, and it's the root of my "love bombing". Do I need to reign in my feelings sometimes? I guess so, but maybe not. If I find someone receptive to how much I like them — the feelings I have for them — then why would I need to reign that in?

It's not so much not falling so hard but tempering my expectations. It is okay that feelings aren't sometimes reciprocated similarly, but know that going into a relationship.

Loosen Up More
I was very tightly wound, very wrapped up in what could've been with this person. Not so much as "the world is falling" if things didn't work out, but definitely a feeling of "now what?"

Going on year two of my adventure, I know now what to expect regarding timing and relationships. I'm very upfront with people I meet. "Hey, I'm only here for a month, so just know that" has been a message I'm letting people know upfront. I need to realize that saying it actually means it — and I need to be okay with that.

So when I say "loosen up more," it means not that these relationships are futile or stunted, but more so to 1) know they'll likely come to an end sooner rather than later and 2) have as much fun as you can in the limited amount of time you have.

Take Everything as It Comes
Don't try to force something, especially if your time is short. Not only is that a lesson for these various trips of mine, but also for life in general.

Why dedicate energy to something that isn't filling you up?

I write this mainly as a reminder to myself and anyone else in a similar situation, as mentioned above. I'll always think about her and what I went through — mostly my own doing — but with those memories will come the lessons learned.