Preparing for trips became stressful. I’d stay up late looking through Pinterest to create mood boards of the photos I wanted to take of myself on vacation—the poses, the outfits—oh my gosh, the outfits. When it came to buying clothes for these trips, I was left disappointed and frustrated that my body didn’t look like the Instagram models I followed. I crunched the numbers in my head to see how quickly I could drop the weight before a trip to look better in photos. My Instagram was flooded with ads from fashion brands that pushed a type of body I couldn’t add to cart.
It’s hard to show up as yourself in a society that bombards us all with images convincing us there’s something we need to change. My insecurities have cleaned me out, leaving a shell of my former self. This version has completely abandoned making room for her camera on vacation. It sits on my bookshelf collecting dust next to the gift shop souvenirs I’ve been picking up to commemorate all the destinations I visit—souvenirs that I have plenty of space for in my luggage now I don’t carry my camera. I barely post about my life and when I do, I feel anxious about how I’ll be perceived. My camera went from being an extension of myself, capturing life from my point of view, to being a painful reminder that I’ve shut the world out.
This fear of not being perfect has hindered how I show up in my own memories—physically in photographs, and mentally. I can’t count how many times I’ve shied away from my fiancé’s phone lens on a trip. Instead of feeling happy he wants to capture these moments and share our life together, I sit bargaining with him over what photos to post and which to quickly delete.
Another year around the sun means another birthday trip to plan. But this time, I have a new travel companion—a film camera. As I hammer out the itinerary for a birthday trip to Fiji in February, I think about how I want to feel while there: well-rested, optimistic, and at peace. The lack of instant gratification from a film camera, I hope, will stop me from dwelling on whether or not I’ve gotten “the shot”—at least until the trip is over and the prints come back.
Until now, I’ve put so much emphasis into how I want to be seen or remember a trip that it’s created unrealistic expectations where I can’t just live in the moment and enjoy my trip. This isn’t a memory I want to continue recreating across the globe. I regret letting such superficial standards dim my own light, even on the most special of days, like my birthday. I deserve to travel and take up space as my most authentic self—on and offline.
