When I didn't want to live, traveling the world made me want to.

This article concerns suicide attempts, so be aware of that. Call the Samaritans at (116) 123-TIPS or send the word SHOUT to (85258) if you are having suicidal thoughts.

I experienced what I can only characterize as one of my greatest mental breakdowns in the summer of 2021. I had endured physical abuse, mockery, and bullying for years. And then it all seemed to catch up with me. Between big trips to faraway places and hiding behind the squares of Instagram, I often felt deep, crippling depression. I lost interest in my profession, gained weight, found it difficult to concentrate, and spent many nights sobbing into my pillows and ripping my hair out in front of the mirror. I was at my worst and hardly recognizable.

Particularly in the UK, it has nearly become standard practice to suffer in quiet. We seldom talk about our emotions because the anti-progressives either label us as weak or "woke" when we do. I reside in a nation where mental illness, particularly in males, is a condition best kept concealed in a mental fog, books, or television. We're somehow frightened to openly express how we feel or ask for help because we don't want to come seen as weak. When so many young guys grieve alone as a consequence, the worst happens. Yet nobody publicly discusses it. Instead, they avoid the topic, shift the conversation, or incline their heads in a tense, uncomfortable quiet.

So, I'm here admitting things that are typically kept in my therapist's notebook. A few months after my first breakdown, I was alone in a London hotel room, planning to end my pain. If not for turndown, I would have done it. Instead, I was in a confused haze when I left the hospital days later. I was very sick, and after spending so much time putting far-off traumas in separate boxes and pushing my thoughts down, I was finally admitting it. Since then, I've been wondering how to handle it.

At some Quaint cafe in San Fransisco back in November. Thankful to 2022 got to travel a lot, also an extreme year tested my limits. Thought a lot about Free will and determinism, doubting do we have free will at all ?
Wish you a very Happy New Year. pic.twitter.com/dtMW7T6qyH

— Harshal Deokar (@HarshalDeokar) January 1, 2023

Traveling has always been my tonic, and now, thanks to years of hard work, hustle, and warding off the occasional shady boss, I have the opportunity of doing it full-time. Beyond creating new experiences and interacting with different people, traveling has always broadened my outlook. When I'm feeling low, I think of my trips and how they changed my life.

But more than anything, I've found that traveling is my most effective kind of self-care. Even under the darkest circumstances, planning a journey to a distant location has helped me find focus, purpose, and the capacity to unpack and come to terms with my history. There were times when I had to physically relocate to a new environment to clear my head.

After hitting my lowest point, I decided I needed a trip fully focused on doing what I liked most, with no meetings or commitments. So, my friend and I traveled to Disney World Florida, the happiest place on earth. The limitations of adulthood, which I was struggling with, disappeared as soon as we entered the parks. I was free to act out in any place I pleased, skip lines after a quick coffee run, eat breakfast with Mickey at the Four Seasons Orlando, eat hot dogs, and scream uncontrollably on rides at Universal Studios. The greatest gift of travel was given to me: freedom.

After five days of rushing about the place, I spent the final night at the Magic Kingdom to get one last sight of the fireworks display. I was dazed, bewildered, and utterly fatigued. "You are the magic," a voice said as I watched the sparkles fly through the air. Despite how corny that may seem, it struck a chord with me after all the suffering and anguish I had gone through. I can still clearly picture a tear forming in my eye as I silently sobbed in front of hundreds of people. In retrospect, it was therapeutic to reflect on all the preparation, energy, and excitement that went into this. I came away motivated and energized, and for me, that's the essence of travel—traveling to places that foster optimism even when everything else around you is going to hell.

While visiting locations with lower serotonin levels, I find that physically exhausting myself from seeing an area allows me to completely reset. I frequently pound the pavement until I feel like passing out in large, uncharted towns because I think it uplifts my spirits and makes me forget my problems. Breaking negative cycles and forcing my brain out of its destructive condition helps me. Even for a short while, leaving my regular life behind and attempting new things. I forced myself to push myself and did things I would never have done otherwise, including learning to surf in Portugal, mountain biking near Mount Blanc, climbing Lion's Head in South Africa, paragliding off a mountain, hiking 40 kilometers by myself in the Plitvice Lakes, taking a doors-off helicopter ride over New York City, and scaling glaciers in Iceland.

I’m praying for life as, it’s being tested to the limits by an infected tumour. I have more work to do, a book to write and time for travels with @lovedotit After 3 years of treatment and many surgeries I feel abandoned by my doctors. I will not die until I have lived in love ♥️ pic.twitter.com/GHBIfJuwtc

— Lorrie Leaver (@lorrie_e) February 16, 2020

Traveling and doing activities that are entirely outside of my comfort zone assist to intellectually and physically push me. I realize that not everyone has access to these things, and even if they do, I'm not saying that traveling in an adrenaline rush can treat mental illnesses. But, these experiences allowed me to separate myself from the worst parts of my everyday life and, more significantly, they helped me gain confidence when it was at its lowest point. But, there are instances when the little things may be just as therapeutic as the terrible situations. For instance, when spending the distant summer months in Italy, I developed the pastime of taking lengthy, meandering walks. I frequently find that taking quick walks may address some of life's biggest issues. They provide the crucial time required to consider and comprehend our severe ailments while playing "me time" or a somber Adele song.

Eventually, the health nut in me found himself deep in the Scottish Highlands, where it was peaceful and quiet. I discovered a route that climbed up a hill covered with purple heather as I wandered through the tranquil hamlet of Braemar. I found a location and passed off on a section of open grass in the pouring rain about an hour later, feeling very satisfied. There was silence. I was transfixed as I saw the mist spiral over the cliff and gently descend to the town. I suddenly sprang up while still thinking and sprinted across the hill while yelling "fuck you!" repeatedly. That gave me freedom. I vented everything in private, with just the scenery (and squirrels) around me. That provided intense catharsis.

In a strange country, I frequently discover a soothing tranquility to nature that begs every one of us to have a moment of insight. There are sunrises and sunsets every day, and you may choose to be there to witness them, as the mother of author Cheryl Strayed succinctly puts it. You have the option to stand in the path of beauty. The ability to scream at Disney, sob under Italy's fire-lit sky, and find me in various cultures helped me remember that there is so much more to the world than my previous issues. The locations I went to pushed me to my boundaries, assisted me in getting over past hurts, opened my eyes to new ideas, and reduced the stress of daily life. I don't want to imply that travel is a cure-all for mental health issues, but in many respects, seeing the globe made me want to live longer than I wanted to. Its greatest gift has been that.

Please dial 116 123 or text SHOUT to 85258 to reach out to the Samaritans if you are having suicidal thoughts.