Screw Maslow; I’m Taking a Road Trip!

The Decision to Take a Solo Road Trip

I am in-between jobs (by choice) and in-between homes (also by choice) and see this as a great time for a road trip. Years ago, I would have considered this irrational, but I’m taking a serious look at my “someday I’ll…” list and thinking that “someday” has arrived.

When my daughter April was nine, my (now ex) husband and I packed up the car for a drive to Pennsylvania for skiing and a visit with my parents. The drive was rushed, partly due to my limited vacation days, but also for his need for speed. My mother had sent a fun little guide on the places to see along I-95 and I flipped through it, suggesting little stops along the way. But my husband wanted nothing to do with it. In fact, he made his point when he stopped for gas across the street from one fun location on my list: a gas station whose owner had a pet dog that carried your payment to the cash register. He insisted we had no time for it. Really? I stared out the passenger window, trying to absorb the communities and terrain we were racing past. This was nothing like the family road trips I experienced growing up. It was AT THAT MOMENT that I decided someday I would take a road trip by myself. But first I had to go through some transitions.

The economic crash did a real number on companies and the people whose livelihoods depended on them. My 2010 layoff came after working at a resort property for two decades. As painful and uprooting as it was, this was a good thing. I’d been in a rut the size of the Grand Canyon and a corporate pink slip was needed to pull me out. It took a year and a half to find full-time work and this made a painful dent in my savings. And in 2013 I got divorced. During these years I tried some new business ventures and got healthier. And I developed a thicker skin.

So I am driving from Florida to California via southern states, and back via northern states. Instead of feeling terrified, I am excited. I’ll put sunscreen on my thicker skin and peer into, but not climb in, the Grand Canyon. And I will stop at every single dog-attended gas station and any other random location that sparks my interest.

Maslow and Me and Me

Not that I don’t have brief moments panic. The tedious and worried me sits on my shoulder, tugs at my ear and whispers frantically, “You need to get a job NOW!” This is the analytical, organized me that has my best interests at heart. The same one that drove me to complete ten online classes this past year (that’s 240 CEUs!) so that I could start designing websites with WordPress and earn a certification in project management. I’ve been very responsible and good, following Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs:

1. Physiological needs (food, shelter, etc.)
2. Safety needs (financial and personal security, insurance, etc.)
3. Love and Belonging
4. Esteem
5. Self-Actualization (realization of full potential)

We humans are supposed to, or are inclined to, achieve these levels in order, from #1 to #5. No skipping.

My happy emoji, courtesy of the Bitmoji app

But then there is the creative me, the one who spun wool from scratch on a now dusty spinning wheel and played classical guitar on an old Yamaha (I still have both). This is the me who spent the first two years as a vocal major at FSU’s school of music and then graduated with a B.S. in Leisure Services and Studies. The one who did a research project on the importance of solo vacations and adventures. I haven’t always listened to her. I passed up a cycling adventure in New England with a good friend years ago to save money. I decided against taking a trip down the Amazon on a tiki raft with a guide, stopping at villages along the way (ok, there were safety concerns traveling in Columbia at the time). But I DID listen to the adventurous me years ago when I signed up for a week at muscle and fitness camp in California. I choose to listen to that me now. The one with the B.S. in Leisure. I even made an emoji for her.

Screw Maslow! I’m going directly to self-actualization.  ROAD TRIP!

Trite, but appropriate takeaways

• Life is short.
• You can’t take it with you.
• The only stuff my daughter wants when I die is my makeup (but this will be a separate post).

~ Barbara Lydia Trapp