So there I was, five weeks into traveling Thailand, absolutely miserable. I had gotten caught up in traveling the way other backpackers do—“going with the flow”—a few days here, a few days there. I was so busy doing what I thought I should be doing that I didn’t even stop to consider what might actually be better for me.

The goal was to become more adaptable, and in some ways, that was definitely happening. But at the same time, I was spending most of my days feeling overwhelmed, tired, and completely burnt out. I’ve spent years learning about myself, and I know I function best with a little stability, routine, and familiarity. So why did I think I needed to change who I am?

I know who I am because I know who I’m not—and once again, I was reminded of that. I am not the person who’s going to move every few days and happily go on tours and sightseeing trips every day. I don’t enjoy it, and honestly, I can’t be bothered.

For me, travel is best when I stay at least a week in one place, if not longer. Sure, it’s a gamble—if I land in a bad accommodation, I’m stuck there. But if I only book a few days to test it out, I feel pressured to move again at the end of those days. And that constant decision-making takes its toll.

What other backpackers prioritize—things like bar crawls, good tours, cheap food, or easy access to the airport—doesn’t really resonate with me. My biggest priority? A quiet hotel room. Especially in big cities. The noise, the constant stimulation—it burns me out. My sensory issues get triggered fast, and my executive function just shuts down. In Vietnam, the incessant honking of car horns nearly broke me. My nervous system was fried.

Number two on my list? A solid breakfast nearby. When I wake up, I want coffee, eggs, and carbs ready to go—bonus points if there are veggies or fruit. It sounds simple enough, but when you’re in remote parts of Asia where breakfast is rice porridge with chicken—and you don’t eat chicken—or you’re in a Chinatown where all you can find is dim sum, starting the day can feel like a challenge.

Traveling fast left me exhausted, and if you’re not enjoying the travel, what’s the point?

I found that staying in one place for a week or more, with just one tour every few days at most, allows me to truly experience a place. It’s about walking the streets until they start to feel familiar, finding a restaurant you love and returning a few times, and getting a real sense of whether it’s a place I’d want to come back to. It’s a balance—stepping outside the comfort zone, exploring new places, and trying new things—while also allowing myself the peace and stability I need to actually enjoy the journey.

I’ve realized I feel most like I’ve failed when I stop listening to myself and chase success on someone else’s terms. I’ve done it before—climbing the ranks in the oil industry, bodybuilding to a size I couldn’t maintain, traveling at a pace that wasn’t sustainable. I get so caught up in whether or not I can do what others are doing that I stop asking if it will bring me joy. And often, I realize that achieving that goal isn’t even what I want long-term.

In my pursuit of a balanced, authentic life, I’ve learned that while I’m capable of working 100-hour weeks, I much prefer something closer to 25-30. I can bodybuild, I can distance run, but what I really enjoy is a chaotic mix of both—and sometimes, I’ll skip the gym for a month. I can perform or speak in front of a room full of people without shrinking under their gaze, yet still feel shy when talking to someone I find attractive. And though I spend a lot of time in solitude, the times I’ve had the largest friend groups were often when I was the furthest from my goals.

What works for me might look very different from what works for you—and that’s okay. The important thing is that you’re uncovering how to be your most authentic, balanced self.