Yup. I did that. But it was a way better option than going off the cliff.
WARNING!!! There is somewhat disturbing content and photos in this post from my actual accidents!
It’s taken me almost two years to write about how traveling solo almost killed me four times…in a row…in less than two months. I’m sure you can understand why. It’s not exactly fun to talk about, and I still get short of breath when I do.
Most of all though, I wanted to fully recover from the PTSD and anxiety it incurred, and make sure I still loved traveling before revealing what could happen to anyone. Anywhere.
Well wait. No, that’s a lie. The way I travel is way more aggressive and often than most people, so my chances of getting in an accident are much higher. To be honest, it was like the universe was slamming me with all of my over-due accidents that never happened in the entire six years I was traveling solo before this all happened.
In fact, I was convinced the universe was trying to kill me. I 100% thought, “It makes sense, I’ve done so many awesome things, I’ve been all over the world, I’ve done more than most people do in three life times, maybe it’s my time to go.”
But then again, I don’t give up that easily. While it’s still mind-boggling to me that all of these accidents happened back to back, and that I was physically suffering from anxiety for months after them, I can’t say I haven’t come out on top.
So before you read the traumatic events that happened to me while traveling solo, just know this: I’m still traveling, and I don’t plan to stop.
Accidents can happen anywhere. And just because they happened to me abroad, doesn’t scare me from continuing to go places. In all honesty, I’d rather get in an accident abroad, because medical care is way more affordable than in the U.S.!
So this post isn’t meant to scare you. It’s meant to show you how it’s possible to overcome your fears, your anxiety, and the pain of the past.
But also liiiike…you may want to get a glass of wine for all of this…it’s a bit intense! Here we go!
I didn’t want to do Patagonia as one of my Group Trips. But I had already planned my Group Trip to Antarctica, and three of the girls on it asked if I could add it on. Typically I don’t plan Group Trips to places I haven’t traveled to myself first, so I know the ins and outs, but I wanted to go as well, so figured I’d just plan something for them too.
The plan was to rent a car and drive across the Argentina-Chile border to Torres del Paine.
Like I said, I hadn’t done that drive before, not to mention, had just recently learned how to drive manual. I had asked the other girls if anyone else could drive manual, and although two could, they insisted that they hadn’t practiced lately so didn’t want to try it. So I drove.
One of the girls was navigating while I drove, and her GPS took us on a road that I should have known wasn’t the right one. Namely because there was a scarecrow with a terrifying mask on it at the entrance to the turn off.
We drove for about two hours on the winding dirt road, taking in the sights of nature and occasional cow.
Suddenly I went over one of the cattle grates (metal poles that are laid in the ground to prevent cows from leaving their land), and when I was back on the dirt road, the tires started sliding.
I could feel the car sliding sideways…straight towards a steep drop-off. Everything I had learned about shifting gears went straight out the window as I tried to battle the steering wheel to make the car go away from the cliff and towards the dirt wall to the left.
One final tug at the steering wheel finally sent us spinning towards the wall and away from the cliff, which was my goal. But the car was completely out of control. Instead of slamming the side of it into the wall to make it stop, the back tires decided to go UP the side of the wall.
In what seems like slow motion, the car just meeeer-boop! Rolled over onto my driver side, and then onto the roof.
Hanging upside down in a car with glass shattered all around you is an interesting feeling. But not as interesting as thinking you just killed or injured other people. I would say that out of all of my accidents, that’s the most horrific thing I experienced.
I screamed in panic for the girl in the back seat, since she was the only one I couldn’t see. The other girl sitting behind me had immediately gotten out of the car and I could see her running around outside of it trying to figure out how to get the rest of us out.
The girl sitting in my passenger seat had already figured out how to get out of her seatbelt, but her door was crushed closed.
“I’m Ok! I’m Ok!” I heard the girl in the back yell. I couldn’t see her because a box of food that was in the middle seat blocked the view from the front seat. And yes, for a moment I thought she was dead.
I started to panic because I couldn’t wiggle out of my seatbelt, and it was too hard to push the un-buckle button while hanging upside down.
“Put your arms down! I’m going to unbuckle you!” The girl next to me instructed.
I looked up (which was down) and looked for a place without glass to put my arms. There was none, so I pulled my sleeves over my forearms, and put them on the roof. Yes, that’s how crushed the car was.
She unbuckled me and I carefully dropped my knees to the roof of the over-turned car, making sure not to kick her. Then I crawled on my hands and knees, over glass and gravel, out the smashed window to my right.
After helping her and the other girl out of the same window, and making sure everyone was Ok, I stepped back to examine the damage.
“HOLY SHIT I FLIPPED A F*CKING CAR!!!” Where my exact words.
I know for a fact my guardian angel was there helping me. Not only was I insanely lucky to be focused enough to steer the car away from the cliff, but more importantly, that none of us had a single scratch.
Well, minus my bank account. I ended up having to pay a $2,000 deductible because I opted for basic insurance coverage rather than the max. (Guess who ALWAYS gets the max now?).
But anyway, we crashed in the middle of the four hour drive. None of us had phone service (so THANK GOD no one was hurt), so we waited for a car to drive by.
A small RV with a nice Dutch couple stopped, and immediately ran past us and to the car. When they saw no one was in the car, they looked at us in confusion. Which made us confused as well.
After eagerly helping load all of our luggage into their little RV and getting us settled into the back seat, they told us that they FOR SURE thought someone was trapped in the smashed car. And they were amazed that none of us were harmed.
When we finally got back into town, I went straight to the car rental office like a dog with its tail between its legs. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before, so I automatically assumed I was in trouble. Or was going to have to pay $20k for a new car or something.
The clerk finally got back and I told him sheepishly that I had crashed the car. He looked at me and one of the girls and was just like, “Ok, well let’s see if there’s any more available, this is a busy time of year so I’m not sure what we have.”
The girl and I looked at each other in half confusion and half shock. HELL NO I don’t want another car!!!
“I don’t think you understand. I…flipped the car.” I said, and held my phone out with a shaky hand to show him the evidence.
“HOLY SHIT!!!! Is that real?!” His reaction was completely normal. “Where is the car now?”
“We left it there, it’s about two hours away on Ruta 40…we were trying to go to Torres del Paine. Someone saw us and drove us back here.” I explained.
He kept looking from the phone screen to the two of us, and back to the phone.
“I’m sorry, it’s just that you look like you two just got back from the spa or something, not a car crash! Today is your second birthday! You have been born again!” He exclaimed.
As I went through the process of paperwork that’s required after you total a rental car, more staff workers came in to see the “miracle”.
“Sorry, I had to send that picture to everyone or they wouldn’t believe me!” How nice. And not embarrassing at all.
After sorting everything out with the car, we went to the hospital where they gave us a free check up just in case. The only damage that was really done was my trauma apparently. The other girls wrote it off as part of the adventure.
In fact the next day the three of them went on a day trip still! I stayed back to work, and ended up rescuing a little bird that smashed into the window, but that’s a story for another time. I’m only mentioning it because perhaps it was a sign..you know like…since I didn’t die when I crashed, I should help the little bird when it crashed? Or maybe I had a concussion, who knows.
Anyway, all four of us STILL went to Torres del Paine. Except, on a tour with a vehicle that had massive tires that could handle dirt roads. The guide of course mentioned to the group that he saw a car flipped on the road the other day, and the four of us awkwardly said, “Oh yeah that was us”. He confirmed we had been “born again”.
For me Patagonia obviously wasn’t as magical as most people say. But I’m happy the other girls at least enjoyed it (minus the accident). We continued on to Antarctica where I quickly bounced back, and had one of the most incredible experiences of my life!
It was my second time traveling solo and doing a roadtrip in Tulum, and I was super excited to be doing a cenote diving collaboration.
In case you don’t know, a cenote is like an underwater cave, that looks really pretty above water, and terrifying under it. Add to that the fact that ancient Mayans used to sink human sacrifices down in them and I’m not sure why I ever wanted to go in one in the first place!
At the time though, I thought it was super cool. And I thought it was even cooler that my dive instructor told me to go jump in with all my gear on and wait for him. Like, I was so profesh at diving that he trusted me to go in by myself. No one had ever let me do that before!
So mistake number one happened.
I strutted confidently in my scuba suit and tank to the entrance of Dos Ojos cenote, and not realizing I’d never jumped in without instruction (or into fresh water), I hopped right on in!
…without my mask on….or my flippers.
Ooohhhh shiiittttttt! I can still distinctly remember thinking that as I sunk straight down into the cold clear water. My eyes bolted open to see the surface stretching away from me, and I inhaled water while involuntarily gasping at the fact that I was an idiot and about to drown.
I’m still not fully sure how I managed to save myself from this one, but suddenly I clawed and kicked at the water until I reached the surface. A woman was staring at me and I couldn’t tell if she was in shock because she thought she was about to witness someone drowning, or because of how dumb I was for jumping in without all of my gear on.
I clung to the side of the wooden platform as I gasped for air…and casually continued to put my flippers on like everything was totally normal.
Mistake number two.
I didn’t take enough time to get my breathing back to normal, and I didn’t speak up or say anything when the instructor jumped in and asked if I was ready. I remember thinking I wasn’t ready. Knowing I wasn’t ready. But I went anyway because I thought I was this badass adventure girl who can handle anything.
So down we went into the dark abyss! I’d never had any problems diving before, so shook it off and tried to enjoy the adventure.
You can only see where your headlamp shines or where the instructor points the flashlight, which was a little spooky, but I ignored any feeling of being scared. I actually remember convincing myself that it was “cool” because it felt like I was floating in outer space.
We reached the end of the cave system that’s dive-able, which was marked by a terrifying toy alligator with a naked Barbie in its mouth. That was the last shot of video footage I have from that adventure…
Then, mistake number three happened.
We had been underwater for almost forty minutes, which I started to realize after remembering the map of the cave the instructor showed me on land.
It was longer than I’d ever been underwater before, and suddenly I started to wonder for some reason if I had enough air in my tank.
Then, all of a sudden it became hard to breathe. My mind exploded with the possibility that I was running out of air and my Fight or Flight instincts instructed me to look up to see where to surface so I could get more air.
But when I looked up, all I saw was the roof of the cave wall, underwater.
I’d never had a panic attack before. I didn’t know what it was, and actually didn’t even know until a while after that that’s what I was experiencing.
I just straight up thought I was drowning.
The instructor tried to calm me down after I did the signal for “I want to surface”…probably because well, that was impossible at the moment. And after he was no help, I tried to dart off on my own to get out of the narrow tunnel.
He caught me by my fin and pulled me back. He put his hands up to signal for me to stop, then held out his hand for me to hold. I took it, praying that he was going to swim super fast to get me out of there, but also knowing fully well that diving protocol usually doesn’t allow you to surface quickly.
But he turned off all of our lights, and pointed to light coming into the water about twenty feet away. It was the exit!
It was also the longest five minutes of my life. Actually I have no idea how long it took. I was too busy thinking, “I’m going to die in Mexico. My epic adventure stories are going to end with me drowning in a freaking cave in Mexico like the Mayan sacrifice girls.”
Then suddenly, there was light at the end of the tunnel! …So either I was dead or I was almost to the surface.
He didn’t wait to do a safety stop (you’re supposed to stop a couple feet below the surface for three minutes so your brain doesn’t explode or something), and next thing I knew I was ripping off my mask and inhaling fresh air.
Strangely, for someone who just experienced their first panic attack…underwater…in a cave…I was EXTREMELY happy.
My instructor was quiet on the drive back to my car…I guess it must have scared him as much as it scared me. We said goodbye, and I continued my journey, not stopping for a moment at all to let my body heal.
In fact, the very next day I still went swimming with Whale Sharks, and even got my bucketlist tattoo! …There’s a good chance the near-death experience gave me a boost of spontaneity….YOLO!!! *face palm*
My final mistake was not reflecting on what happened. I didn’t acknowledge the trauma that my body and mind endured, and I didn’t take anything away as a lesson.
So I really shouldn’t have been surprised that the next week when I went to Northern Thailand for a collaboration with a tour company, happened to be when those school kids got trapped in a cave there in Chang Rai.
I mean…how ironic is it that I literally had just thought I was going to die being trapped in a cave, then I go to a completely different country, in a remote area of it, and the breaking news is that there are kids also trapped in a cave (and more likely to die).
That news story played non-stop the whole time I was there, and I kept up with it to root them on. Subliminally though it kept reminding me of the sheer panic I felt in the same situation.
Why was the universe plastering this reminder in my face? And why the hell did they deny Elon Musk’s offer to send tiny child-sized submarines to get them out?
Anyway, at the time, I still didn’t think anything of it besides that it was ironic AF.
A couple days later on the same tour, I was on a river cruise in Laos. We stopped at a popular Buddhist temple along the way where each of the guests on the tour picked a fortune at random.
Our tour guide translated them, and everyone’s said something about when they’ll meet their true love or how many kids they’ll have. Mine said “It’s not time for you to settle down, there’s still things you need to do in the World.”
…By the way, I had JUST started dating someone who was already talking about marriage and kids.
After Laos I went straight into a second collaboration with the same tour company in Cambodia.
(Sidenote: In case you’re wondering what a “collaboration” entails, it means I got either paid to go on a trip to promote it on my blog and social media, or a free trip in exchange for the same but less work. That being said, this trip was NOT one of my own Group Trips and the people on the bus were paying customers to the tour company)
This time there was another “influencer” on the trip, and a girl I had made friends with. It was fun in that aspect but in all honesty our tour guide was awful. He was the type who was very attention-hungry, and thought he was some sort of celebrity because he was the guide.
In fact, he would talk shit about previous guests, make crude jokes, and acted as if our opinions didn’t matter. What bothered me most (before the crash) was that I got sexually assaulted at the beach when a plastered older western expat man purposely fell on me and tried to grab me right in front of the guide, and he didn’t even get up from his chair or help me. He just said “Go stand over there”, while a guy on the tour helped me up and yelled at the drunk man.
Anyway. As you can probably imagine, I was more than happy to be heading to Siam Reap finally on the second to last day.
We had been driving for hours, and were behind schedule, so the guide told the driver to hurry up. I watched uncomfortably as the low-quality bus wove in and out of slower traffic, noticing the jolt in my stomach that came naturally now that I’d been in an accident before.
It was almost as if I predicted it. I knew exactly what was going to happen the second it started.
I looked up just in time to catch the glimpse of our bus trying to pass to the left of a slower truck, but we were going too fast. If he didn’t cut the wheel sharp, we would have hit the back of the truck in front of us, which to be honest, probably would have done less damage.
But he cut the wheel sharp, and the bus jolted sideways on the freshly rained-on road.
The all-too-familiar feeling of sliding in a vehicle when you’re not supposed to be slapped me in the face, and I went into Flight or Fight mode once again.
“WE’RE GUNNA FLIP!!! HOLD ON!!!” I screamed as I grasped the hand-bar on the back of the seat in front of me. But I was the only one who reacted that quickly. And also one of the eight out of eleven NOT wearing a seatbelt.
I held tight to the hand-bar, and used it to push myself against the gravity that was pulling me sideways towards the window on my left as the bus started rolling on its side. I could see the dirt and grass coming face to face with the window and pushed harder away from it.
But then a sharp blow to the right side of my head disrupted my brain’s Fight or Flight focus.
I winced and partially blacked out, and waited for more things to hit my head and kill me as the bus continued to roll over.
Yes. For the second time in one month, I was 100% sure I was going to die.
It seemed like we were rolling forever, and I was sure that the end result was going to be the death of us all. But finally we stopped.
My ears were ringing, and I looked to my right to examine the damage. My friend sitting next to me on the dinky fold-out middle seat, also with no seatbelt, clutched her eye. I realized the thing that hit me in the head, was her head, which was flying straight for the window had I not blocked it with my skull.
Fight or Flight mode was in full effect more than ever. I touched the area of my forehead that throbbed to check for blood. There was none. I was fine. I needed to help the others.
The guy sitting by the window on the right of me had the same “Fight mode” look in his eyes as I did. He was one of the three with a seatbelt on, who was completely unharmed.
It all happened so fast. It feels almost as if there was a moment of silence, maybe a “moment of clarity”, that I scanned the scene to see how I could help the others.
The bus door. It was shut. And the guide was…running towards the road? What. The. F*ck. Who was going to help us?!
I guess the ones who weren’t as injured, which included me.
Everyone towards the front of the bus was trying to get the door open and help the people injured up there.
“Owwww my back! My back!!” The girl behind the unharmed guy screamed and writhed in pain.
“My parents are doctors,” he said to me, “I’ll help her, you get the girl in the back”.
The…back?! Suddenly I realized the girl sitting all the way at the back of the bus was buried under ALL OF OUR LUGGAGE. I jumped over the middle seat and started clawing at the mound of bags, throwing them behind me to try to find her.
Finally I found her ghost-white face, in pure shock, gasping for air. I pulled her out of the mound and realized she either had a severe concussion or was having a panic attack.
I’m not going to lie, the only reason why I knew what to do was because I saw it in movies. I started asking her questions. Anything I could think of to keep her from either freaking out or blacking out.
“Ask her about her sister!!” Her best friend who she was traveling with yelled from the front of the bus. She was helping someone else and I had no idea how she also saw what was happening with her friend.
I asked her question after question and instructed her to breathe like I was breathing. Deep breaths. It was going to be Ok. Don’t worry, you’re not bleeding. (Thank god I never continued to pursue my medical field dreams).
Here eyes were locked on mine as if it was the only thing keeping her there, but in my peripheral vision I was watching to see when the door was opened. I was about ten seconds away from considering exiting out a window in fear that the bus might explode or something.
“Alyssa, let’s go.” The guy taking care of the girl next to me said. He hooked her arm over his neck and led her down the destroyed aisle as she squealed in agony.
“It’s time to go, are you ready? We need to get off the bus.” I told my “patient”.
“I can’t, I can’t move, please don’t leave me, I can’t move.” She gasped. Never in my life had I been in a situation where someone was depending on my for their life. And to be completely honest, that was the most traumatizing part of the whole experience.
“I’m not going to leave you, I’m just going to help you walk.” I reassured her, and pulled her arm until she was on her feet. She was taller than me, and I had all of her weight against my side, but somehow the adrenaline made it very easy for me to half carry her off the bus.
The scene outside of the bus was something you’d see in an action movie. All the glass from the windows was on the grass. Our belongings were skewed in between.
Oh and there was the big plastic orange emergency aid kit box that was COVERED in blood. The irony.
While I had been waiting to get off the bus, the guide had been flagging down locals to take those most injured to the hospital. Half of the people on the bus had already gone.
“She needs to go next! She’s in shock!” I yelled to the guide, pushing my patient towards the car he had just flagged down.
“Um, Alyssa, I think you should also probably go next as well.” The three without injuries said to me, looking at me with slight concern.
I touched my face again where I had face slammed my friend. The bump was about the size of tennis ball. You know, like cartoon characters get in early Disney movies?
It wouldn’t have worried me except for I realized it was right next to my temple. That worried me because there’s a story that I don’t share with many people about how I almost lost my boyfriend in college because he was punched in the temple. The area is soft and caused internal bleeding, which led to brain surgery, and resulted in him being in a chemically induced coma for three months. I waited every single day in the waiting room for him, even though his parents and doctor told me there’s a good chance he’d never wake up. Don’t worry, he did!
So I climbed into the back of a passing local family’s van along with my friend and my patient. The remaining three stayed back to guard our belongings.
The mother in the front seat and her baby girl peered back at us worriedly. She seemed to be smiling and silently trying to reassure us that we were almost there. I wasn’t expecting though the place that was “almost there”.
We were far from a hospital. We were in a very rural area. So we were brought to the closest clinic.
Now. I REALLY don’t want this to scare you guys, because again, this could happen ANYWHERE! I grew up in a place called Jupiter Farms where the nearest hospital was also far away and had a friend who had to be helicoptered to it before, so this isn’t the fault of being in another country!
So anyway. The doctors all wore shorts and Crocks with their white coats over them. The examination room was small and something most of you’d maybe see in a horror film, but it worked.
My friend and I were the only ones “not really injured” compared to the four that really were, so we did what we could to help out. My friend tried to console the girl who was screaming about her back on one side of the small room.
…While I tried to distract and reassure the woman who had just gotten half of her head shaved in order to suture the massive gash on her forehead.
An ambulance came surprisingly fast from Siam Reap, and they sent the woman with the massive head injury and her husband in there first. The rest of us took a “fancy” charter bus that I wish we would have been in the whole time.
When we finally got to the actual hospital in Siam Reap, the a*shole guide said, “Those of you who are injured go in, if you’re not, go to the hotel.” Even though um HELLO, we all just did a 360 flip in a damn bus off the side of the road in Cambodia!!
Everyone was smart and ended up getting checked out. I’m not going to lie, my mom had to reassure me via text that spending an extra $200 to get a CT Scan was worth it.
So yeah, that happened…a CT scan in Cambodia! It was scary but not as terrifying as waiting for results. It felt like I waited forever. People who went in after me even got their results in before I did.
Eventually mine came back and they pulled it up on a computer. They showed me a strange almond shape in the middle of my brain that they said they “Weren’t sure what it was.”
No big deal. Just a random foreign object IN MY BRAIN.
I’ll give you the spoiler alert so you don’t worry as much as I did; I later showed the CT scan of said foreign object to a neurologist I randomly met in a bar in New Orleans and he laughed and easily told me it was just my pineal gland. Which makes sense, because I have chronic lucid dreaming.
By the way, I say “Chronic lucid dreaming” lightly, but I know if you’re reading this, you probably have it too. You should definitely email me if so. Anyway…
I DEFINITELY had a concussion though. And a gorgeous bruise right on the side of my head.
That didn’t stop me from going to Angkor Wat the next day though. We missed the tour of it because we couldn’t wake up early enough (likely due to the concussion) so my friend and I went on our own. It was a very surreal experience…mostly because we were extremely disoriented and still in shock.
I didn’t know this at the time, but apparently you’re not supposed to fly with a concussion. So it probably wasn’t the best idea that I still got on my flight to Bali the next day…
I remember thinking I was invincible. So badass and carefree for living through three near-death accidents and still going to Bali to teach two back to back “Blogger Bootcamps” with my then-business partner Glo (from TheBlogAbroad.com).
It was night by the time I got to the villa she had arranged for her and I to stay at before the bootcamp, and I was beyond exhausted, so we had a quick glass of wine and I went straight to bed.
I knew for sure there was an earthquake. I had felt a couple before in my life and the unnerving feeling was unmistakable. It wasn’t bad enough for me to get out of bed, and in the morning I even questioned if it was just one of my nightly lucid dreams.
“I knew it!” Glo exclaimed out of no where the next morning as we were working on our laptops. “There was an earthquake last night!”
“Oh ya, I felt it!” I said nonchalantly, not thinking much of it. And that was pretty much it, just an earthquake, no big deal.
But the universe apparently wasn’t happy about my constant brushing off of the intense obstacles it was throwing at me…
I know I wrote about having a panic attack while diving in the cenote in Mexico, so I just want to clarify that I did NOT know that’s what it was. I didn’t tell anyone about that accident so no one could have told me that’s what happened.
Also keep in mind that at the time I didn’t think I had anxiety, trauma, PTSD or anything wrong with me. I was simply focused and stressed about work only and the bootcamps.
So my brain decided to physically show me there was something wrong.
I was laying in bed in my dark room upstairs in the villa, watching a show called “Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt”.
I’m not sure if it was the fact that the story line is based on women who were trapped underground in a “cave” for years, or if it was the irritating screeching of her voice, or even just the one light from my laptop in the dark room that was reminiscent of the diving accident.
But suddenly out of ABSOLUTELY NO-F*CKING WHERE FOR NO REASON…my heart started racing and my vision started blacking out.
As someone with extreme consciousness of my body and mind, I knew instantaneously that something was not right. My immediate thoughts were that if I passed out, Glo wouldn’t find me until the next afternoon.
So I went straight for the door and crawl-stepped my way down the rickety wooden stairs. I had no clue what to do so I went to the bathroom and splashed water on my face.
The cold water seemed to help but when I looked at my face in the mirror, and saw a pale, shocked face, the feeling came back. I couldn’t breathe. I thought I was having a heart attack.
I tried the water trick again. And again. And Again. I could contain it for a few second with the water on my face, but it just kept coming back.
Out of all of my accidents, this was the most scared I have EVER been. IN. MY. LIFE.
It took me what seemed like 10 minutes (realistically probably 3) to grow a pair a balls, swallow my immensely large pride, and knock on Glo’s door. I absolutely hated to admit it, but I needed help.
It was the first time I’ve EVER asked to be taken to the hospital. And I’m someone who refuses medical treatment at all costs.
Glo seemed as scared as I was at first (I mean imagine your business partner knocking on your door at 12am gasping for breath and asking to be taken to the hospital) but she kept her cool.
She was definitely my savior; not hesitating when I asked if she’d come upstairs with me to get dressed because I was scared I’d pass out, and letting me sit on the floor in her room while she got dressed herself (there’s a funny story about this part that she might tell you if you ask). Glo if you ever read this, I’m still and forever will be grateful that you were there that night to save me!
Anywho, she tried to order a taxi from an app we use in Bali, but it was the middle of the night, and we weren’t exactly close to anything. After 15 minutes I told her I was going to start walking towards the main road.
I stopped every five seconds to hurl over and catch my breath. Waiting for the time where I’d completely pass out.
We got to a bar where Glo tried her best to explain to the staff of locals that we needed a taxi and it was an emergency. They tried to help but no taxis were answering. Finally a European expat realized what was happening and flagged down a cab somehow.
The ride there was a blur but I distinctly remember getting immediately taken into the ER. They brought me straight to a bed and a nurse started taking my EKG while Glo filled out my information.
Somehow in the midst of me having a panic attack, I decided to be responsible and bring my hospital records and CT scan from Cambodia just in case that accident had something to do with it. So the first thing I did was try to hand the nurse my little “goody bag” of health problems.
“Your vitals are all normal.” She said casually.
WHAT?!?! “But my heart feels like I’m having a heart attack and I can’t breath! I was just in an accident too, here look.” I said, handing her the bag.
Long story short, the doctor came in quickly after and diagnosed me with a panic attack. Despite my multiple self-diagnosis, that he took the time to prove every single one wrong.
He explained that I likely had a lot of built up stress, anxiety, and PTSD from all the accidents and something triggered it and made it come out as a panic attack.
“Ok so how do you fix it?” Was obviously my main concern.
“If you’re feeling that bad, we can give you an injection that’s like a tranquilizer, and I’ll prescribe you with Xanex to take for the next three days, and order you to relax, and have positive thought.”
Not joking. That was my Emergency Room treatment plan for an anxiety attack in Bali.
So I took a legitimate tranquilizer shot to the arm, went home with a prescription for five Xanex tablets and “happy thoughts”, plus a second look at my Cambodia medical records….all for $80!
There’s another part about a guy and girl coming in covered in blood while waiting for my prescription but I’ll save that story for another time.
Anyway. Although it was against my absolute will to relax and not work, I tried to. Namely because as the doctor predicted, the after-anxiety wasn’t as easy to shake as I thought.
I’d literally start to feel a panic attack coming on as soon as Glo would leave the villa. Which is an EXTREMELY strange feeling for me considering I traveled SOLO for SIX years!
We had a week before the Bootcamp’s started, and I did my best to relax and fix the issue. I did daily meditations, yoga, “rest”, but it wasn’t as easy as I expected.
Fortunately though, the universe decided to give me a break (FINALLY) and randomly threw someone I knew from college into my life in Bali. I told him everything that had happened and he was surprisingly sympathetic about all of it. He even did the meditations with me and would text me at all hours of the day or night.
When the time came to start the bootcamps, I pulled myself together the best I could…and then this happened:
I swear to God, I felt like I was being gas-lit by the universe.
It was only one week before the last earthquake, and six days since I was legitimately tranquilized in the hospital for a panic attack.
The first six people had already arrived for our Blogger Bootcamp and four of them were playing pool in the massive villa we had rented out. One girl was catching up on emails on the massive couch a few meters away, while I stood in the kitchen checking my messages for updates on our remaining guests.
“Do you guys hear that sound?” The girl on the couch said with an extremely confused look on her face.
It sounded like a helicopter coming straight for the open floor-to-ceiling glass doors. But then I looked up, and saw the massive six, one-hundred pound hanging light fixtures start to sway back and forth, over the girl sitting in the living room.
“EARTHQUAKE!!!!” I screamed, watching in slow motion as all eyes turned to me.
In the split second that seemed like a slow motion of two minutes, I racked my brain for what you’re supposed to do in an earthquake. All that came to mind was some random social media post that mentioned standing in a doorway because those are least likely to collapse.
“EVERYONE COME UNDER HERE!” I yelled again. And in an instant, all six humans that I was responsible for were huddled inside of my outstretched arms, under the door frame in the kitchen.
My fight or flight mode was in full effect once again. I trembled as I clutched the group of women as if my skinny arms could actually protect them if the roof were to cave around us.
“Get outside! Now!” I could hear the staff of the house yelling from outside. But I had no idea how they had gotten out. And I was afraid to move the group away from the door frame.
“Where do we go?!” I yelled back.
“Outside! Go outside now!” A Balinese woman continued to yell from outside. She could see us from some opening in the kitchen that I couldn’t see because the doors had slammed shut.
“We need to go outside,” I announced to the group, “Stay together, we’ll go out the front door.” It was a short distance to the front door, but it seemed like blocks away.
Right now my memory is of me with arms three times as long as they really are, wrapped around six women, shuffling in sheer terror to the front doors of a quaking mansion in Bali. OH. With the thought that the entire house was going to collapse on us.
Feeling the cold grass on my bare feet was such a relief despite the staff all yelling, “Why’d you stay inside?!” and the group reflecting on their moments of horror. Glo and our videographer Roxanne were both getting massages by the pool and had to run out butt naked in their towels.
For me it was all static noise.
I collapsed hard on the steady ground, clutching the fertile grass with my newly-jagged nails. Apparently I had grabbed onto the girls’ clothing so hard that my nails broke. I also started to feel the throbbing in my toes where everyone piled on top of them. I wasn’t worried about my own physical damage though.
First and foremost I was worried about the girls. It was some of their first times traveling so far abroad. And for all of them, it was a big investment and commitment to come. Would they want to leave immediately? Would they get a panic attack like I did after the first earthquake?
I immediately started to wonder if this was all my fault. If I had cheated the game of life, where you only get to do so many great things, and if you do more, you get punished for it.
Because this was now the what? Sixth thing to happen to me in two months?
Somehow I contained myself. Wait no, not only did I contain myself, and my extremely dramatic thoughts about the universe trying to kill me, but I also somehow helped calm everyone down.
Be a leader. Don’t show your fear or weaknesses. Search your brain for things you know that work.
Fortunately for everyone else, all of the extreme efforts I had to make to exile my anxiety from my previous accidents came bursting into my mind.
Breathe.
That was the number one thing every mediation person, app, scared-person-I-divulged-to, etc., said to me. So I said it to them.
“Let’s all sit OUTSIDE and listen to a meditation on this app I started using after my accidents, I feel like it helps.” To be completely honest, I’m surprised everyone agreed to do it. I would have 1000% been freaking the F out if I were in most of those girls’ shoes. Well…not their shoes…everyone was barefoot from suddenly running outside.
Anyway. We all sat in a circle and I did my best to simultaneously speak calmness while searching for a meditation that helps with things like, idk, “Just experienced an intense earthquake on my first day in Bali.”
Thankfully, and that’s a very big THANKFULLY, no one was injured in our group. But we quickly learned that others were.
The island of Lombok, next to Bali, was where the epicenter of the earthquake was, and the majority of the northern part of the island was destroyed. People were suffering while we merely thanked out lucky stars to still be in the massive villa in Bali.
It hit too close to home for me. I couldn’t sit there, unharmed, making money in their country, while so many of their people suffered.
So I decided to start a fundraiser to raise money to buy items LOCALLY to personally send to the people on Lombok. I contacted another blogger, Becky (founder of WeAreTravelGIrls), and of course Glo was on board, and I started a GoFundMe for $5k to raise money for disaster relief supplies…during our Blogger Bootcamp.
To this day I am still so proud to say that we raised over $7k in 24 hours, purely through social media.
What a weird mix of emotions, right?
Sad that these people’s villages are destroyed, happy to raise money to help, determined to teach people how to do what I’m doing………yet internally suppressing severe suffering, pain, fear, and confusion.
Should I really have been teaching people how to have the career that I have, if it results in these types of risks?
Despite everything I was feeling, I wanted more than anything to go to the damaged zones on Lombok. I wanted to make sure the $7k of supplies we purchased got to people that actually needed them and didn’t just go to “local charities” that may sell them or use them as a tax write off.
I’m embarrassed to say that I did not go to hand deliver the items. Part of me was honestly worried about looking and feeling too much like a “white savior”. Part of me was pressured by the fact that I had a second bootcamp a week later, and if anything happened to me, that would be unfair to the people who paid to come learn from me.
So I pushed forward. And watched proudly via video as Roxanne and her local friends delivered the supplies.
(Note: Our awesome videographer Roxanne did go to Lombok to deliver the supplies! You can see her videos of it here).
Remember when I mentioned in the beginning of this chapter that I felt like the universe was gas-lighting me?
That’s because there were several nights after that big earthquake, where I’d wake up because I thought another one was happen.
Let me back up.
First of all, I have lucid dreaming. Every night. As in yes, I have fully clairvoyant dreams, where I know I’m dreaming, and can control them. Every. Night.
Before you go thinking I’m crazy and was maybe dreaming of an earthquake, let me say this: I just want to sleep!
Oh my gawd! If I have to have a brain that never shuts off, even at night, the number one thing I know is WHEN I am sleeping. And also when I’m dreaming!
So anyway. The reason why I say I felt the universe was gas-lighting me, was because I kept waking up because I felt “tremors”. AKA baby earthquakes.
At first people were like, “No we don’t feel anything, are you sure it wasn’t another one of your dreams?” And for a second, I legitimately thought that it was, and that I was going crazy!
Imagine that! You think you’re feeling the earth shaking and people tell you it’s all in your head!
Turns out it wasn’t.
There were tremors every day for the rest of the month that I was in Bali. I felt a total of four that I could physically see, but the amount of times I ran out of my room in the middle of the night were countless. Also, verified by group texts with others saying “Did you feel that?!” or “Is everyone Ok?!”.
Here’s the craziest part.
One week later I flew to Morcco to host another group trip. In my opinion, I put on a GREAT face and front, and did the whole 8 day trip with no problem. Well, aside from my suppressed fear of something else happening.
I demanded seatbelts be worn, I had to sit in the front seat with the window open at all times, I even kept that xanex they gave me in Bali in my pocket, just in case.
Looking back on that trip, I wish I could have been a more fun host. But I also wish I hadn’t pushed myself to keep working so hard after the trauma. I was legitimately clutching the door of the van driving us, expecting it to flip over, for hours at a time.
Anyway, the good news is there weren’t any accidents after Bali, but here’s what happened with my new anxiety and travels:
If I haven’t emphasized this already, I think of myself as an adventurous, fearless, badass. So you can probably imagine how much of a toll PTSD anxiety took on me.
After Morocco I went to Tunisia for a break in between trips and all I can remember is feeling miserable. I barely left the hotel. Everything triggered me. But I kept fighting it and kept going.
I accepted a paid collaboration in Tokyo, and luckily met up with some other creators there. But my anxiety was so bad that I questioned myself non-stop if I was about to have a panic attack. I even made a twenty year old photographer turn around on the subway to Disney World (which I really wanted to see) because the train triggered my PTSD.
But I still kept going. I had another group trip planned, so off to Croatia I went, half worried that the trip was on a boat the whole time (again my PTSD was the feeling of being trapped), but half relieved because my boyfriend at the time was meeting me there. I also already knew three people coming on the trip.
Being around familiar faces definitely helped, but again, looking back now, I can’t imagine that I was a ton of fun. Even though everyone on the trip claims I was. Maybe I hid the pain I was feeling well.
After Croatia I finally went back to LA, because my boyfriend-at-the time started to complain about my frequent travels. He also had decided on the Croatia trip that “traveling wasn’t his thing”. Well staying home and having a routine wasn’t my thing, but I offered to try it anyway for the sake of stability.
Guess what happened the night I got back to LA? Earthquake. So maybe my solution wasn’t what the universe had in mind.
Turns out stability, routine, and un-eventful life-living also triggered my anxiety. I assumed it could be related to “feeling trapped”, and I’m pretty sure it showed.
Shouldn’t come as a shock that we broke up shortly after I canceled my travel plans in order to stay home and be normal with him. Terribly inconvenient considering I was staying with him, and had no intentions to find an apartment in LA…I would have just kept traveling!
Luckily I have great friends, and immediately re-located to one of my bestie’s couches. But of course all of this didn’t help my anxiety.
The pain in my chest only got worse, and I could have sworn it was getting hard to breathe. The breathing issues of course just triggered my PTSD from thinking I was drowning in the cave, so it was an overall hot mess that was officially ruining my life.
Finally I decided to go to Urgent Care. Yes, that’s how worried I was about the pain and lack of oxygen that didn’t exist.
When the doctor came in, I literally said, “Hi, I have PTSD from a bunch of accidents that happened recently, and I know I have anxiety about having anxiety, but I can feel chest pain now, and I just want to see on paper that I’m not dying so I can convince my anxiety of that.” Then proceeded to hand him the “goodie bag” of hospital reports I had collected from Cambodia and Bali.
“Well you’re right, you diagnosed yourself.” He said, clearly amused. “How on Earth did you get yourself into so many accidents?!” He added, noting the locations of each.
“I travel for a living. I’m actually surprised these didn’t happen sooner. But now I feel trapped everywhere I go, which is not good for business. So I would like an X-ray of my chest, blood work, and an MRI if it’s possible.”
The doctor literally started laughing at me. And for a moment I laughed too. I knew nothing was wrong with my chest, but I wanted visual proof. I’m so crazy that I literally wanted to see the inside of my chest to verify to myself that I wasn’t dying.
“Your vitals are all perfect, but if you really want all the tests, we can do that. Regardless, I’m going to prescribe you to Ativan…it’s way less strong and aggressive than Xanex, which is what they prescribed you in Bali. It has a longer effect too, so you’ll be able to sleep the entire night. I’m also going to suggest Zoloft,”
“ZOLOFT?!” I blurted, “I am not depressed! I have an epic life! I just have anxiety!” I announced, while also questioning if I was depressed. I was definitely not happy about the accidents, and the way the PTSD was impacting my life, but I also definitely did not want to become reliant on pills.
“It’s not just for depression, it’s for anxiety. Anxiety can also cause depression, so it’s better to manage it early.”
I was not happy about this diagnosis at all, but decided to just shut up and take the prescription in case things did in fact get worst. Oh and all of the tests came back as normal.
I did end up getting both prescriptions filled. And to this day, I still have one Ativan left out of the six he prescribed, and I haven’t touched any of the Zoloft.
Note: This is not meant to “pill shame” in any way. If pills help you, great. However I grew up in a place where ten people I knew died from pill overdoses before I graduated highschool, even more went to jail because of them, and I also got physically abused by someone who took them. So yes, I am against pills and I don’t care if people say they help them, because they didn’t help those people. I also don’t have health insurance so didn’t want to constantly worry about having to pay for pills, and what would happen if I ran out abroad. So I got over my anxiety without them.
If you’re skipping ahead based on what sub-titles appeal the most, be sure to read the note in the paragraph above this one.
Basically after that doctors visit, when I got visual proof that I wasn’t dying and it was just my brain that was injured, I was determined to fix myself.
I rented a nice studio apartment one block from Venice beach, and made plans to go see the friend I ran into in Bali, in San Diego. Well, the second part didn’t happen because I got a flat tire, but while I was waiting to get my car fixed, I met a really cute, extremely sweet, way-too-clingy-but-I-needed-it-at-the-time-Armenian guy.
Timing could not have been more perfect. I needed companionship, and he needed a wanderlust-addict who had their own place (he had just gotten back from being nomadic and was staying at his wealthy-parents place). It also helped that I could be completely open about what had happened to me, and how I felt. I also was completely open about about not wanting a relationship yet, which he was not understanding about…
Anyway. December had come, and I was still in a World of chaos and pain inside my head. I tried my best to fight it though. I went to The Points Guy’s first ever awards show in New York, and then even took my mom to four countries in Europe to see the Christmas Markets!
The hardest thing I remember about doing everything was the flights. I kept getting the damn thought of, “Oh my god I’m trapped inside this thing and can’t get out if I want to”. And it was painful, both physically and mentally, because I feared it would stop me from traveling.
That idea took such a toll on me that for the first time in my 30 years of life, I didn’t go home to Florida for Christmas. And trust me, that was a BIG DEAL. Everyone knew something was wrong.
Instead I stayed in LA and looked for an apartment for the first time in three years.
Since I was nomadic for three years, which were also the years of the peak in my success, I had saved a lot of money. I could afford a nice place in LA, and so I got one, for a whopping $2600 a month. It was a chic multi-level one-bedroom with a communal rooftop pool and jacuzzi, that had an epic 360 degree view of Los Angeles.
For the first time since I was 21, I bought furniture, and actually furnished the place. I got my things out of storage for the first time in 3 years, and cancelled the account. And finally drove my poor neglected Mustang.
By mid-January I had built a little home, and I vowed to take 2019 slowly in order to heal myself. I made my goals for the year to travel a little bit less, appreciate my success more, and to NOT try to force myself to have a relationship.
My self-made plan of recovery was to start running because I heard exercise helps get rid of the “I can’t breathe” feeling of anxiety. I tried to keep listening to meditation apps, and always repeated a mantra at night (usually something like, “You are EPIC, you are STRONG, you have a lot of badass things to do still, you can beat this!!!”).
Almost every night I would feel that daunting, random increased heart rate that made me think I was about to have a panic attack. But instead of freaking out, I would remind myself to breathe, and that if I absolutely had to, I could take one of the Ativan. There were a few nights that the panic was so bad that I did have to take them, but it would also upset me so much having to have a drug fix my brain, that it made me try harder not to have to take them.
To this day, I still carry my last Ativan with me, both to remind myself that I didn’t need it to overcome the PTSD anxiety….and to reassure myself that if I did have a panic attack, I could easily fix it with the pill rather than the hospital.
I got a serious boyfriend, a ton of paid travel collaborations, and three fully booked group trips.
I checked off some of my top travel destinations like Samoa Islands, Madagascar, and the Seychelles.
I reached my 100th country, and still traveled to 16 countries despite the debilitating anxiety.
I WENT DIVING AGAIN for the first time in a year.
I became more grateful for my life and proud of myself than ever before.
I overcame anxiety.
Like a champ.
In February I decided I no longer needed the stability of a home to feel safe from anxiety. So I made the drastic decision to move abroad with my boyfriend.
We moved to Barcelona on March 5th, and ten days later got put in the mandatory home confinement measure. We’ve been in it for six weeks and counting.
I started getting anxiety flare ups and even had a small panic attack in the middle of the night around the fourth week. But I decided to focus hard on what I love to do. So I started writing my book again, got creative with taking photos around the apartment, and my favorite; used IG Stories as my own personal reality show to entertain people.
It hasn’t been easy for anyone. But I do believe that there are a lot worse situations we could be in, and that my misfortunes have made me a stronger person. I hope they help you be a stronger person as well.
OH AND YES I ALWAYS GET TRAVEL INSURANCE NOW!!
This true story will we written out in more detail in my upcoming book, so I would love to hear your feedback about it below!
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Wow Alyssa! I’m so proud of you! You have brought hopes and dreams to all of us! Keep up your tremendous work, love you!
AW thank you so much Yi! I truly appreciate your never ending support! <3
I would buy your memoir.
I thoroughly enjoy your writing style.
Keep on keeping on.
💟☮️💟
Thank you Gigi! That's very motivating to hear! I'll hopefully have my first book done by the time my lockdown is over!
Wow! This is a crazy story! I remember watching your stories on Instagram during some of this and thinking how calm you were. It looked like you just kept going without another thought. You really were able to hide how severe your anxiety came to be. And I understand the feeling like you’re having a heart attack. I had a panic attack last month when this whole pandemic really started to hit here in the states. I’m a teacher and we have an RN on campus, so I went down there and told her something was wrong, which is not a thing I have ever done in the eight years I’ve worked there. I am very much an ignore it until it goes away person with my health. (Which is not good, I know, but I hate dealing with doctors or depending on medications, even going to talk to the nurse that day was way out of character for me.) I described what I felt like with my heart pounding and my chest hearting, and my blood pressure was high which is unusual for me. She said it was anxiety. I got in my classroom teaching later and after awhile was fine because I wasn’t thinking about it anymore. I walked down later for her to check my blood pressure again (because she made me call my doctor, who I doubt even remembered me because I only go if I’m really really sick, and they said to keep monitoring it) and there were people talking about the pandemic in the office. I joined in the conversation while I was waiting for the nurse, my heart immediately started pounding and it started all over again. Blood pressure was up still, but I told her I was pretty sure it wouldn’t have been if she’d taken it before I joined that conversation. After I calmed down that night, it went back down. I monitored it for a couple weeks after that and it’s been fine. It was 100% anxiety, but I felt like I was having a heart attack. It’s insane what stress can do to the body, and I really feel for people who have anxiety disorders and deal with panic attacks on a regular basis.
So scary!! I remember you jumping right into teaching boot camp immediately after the panic attack in Bali. So crazy!
That was some really excellent writing. I couldn't look away until I finished it.
Oh wow what an amazing compliment! Thank you Steve!
Wow! So eventful - thank you for sharing and being so open. It’s nice to get a full understanding of your experiences rather than a ‘polished’ look that can sometimes come across on Instagram. I’m so pleased you’re overcoming your anxiety and fingers crossed Spain’s lockdown will end soon so you can explore your new neighbourhood some more.
Thank you Victoria! Yes I wouldn't feel right or real about not sharing what actually happens to me and how hard it is sometimes to have this kind of lifestyle. Thank you for your feedback and well wishes! I'm so sad about getting stuck in such a long lockdown in Spain but at least I'll hopefully finish my book by the end of it lol!
Amazing. Thank you for sharing. I am glad you are ok. I was following you during this time you write about. It is good to know the whole story. Indomitable describes you even better than I thought at first. You are a good example in every way. All the best to you every day from now on!!!
Thank you Lisa! Love that word,"indomitable"! It's definitely the mindset I have and hope to maintain! Thank you for your kind words and encouragement!
THANK YOU for sharing this!!! I thought I was having panic attacks and almost drowned scuba diving solo in not 2, but 3 cenotes in tulum. Why the hell I continued diving in them beats me, but I hid these experiences from anyone and everyone out of fear of judgement.
You’ve been through a shitload, thanks for being so badass, real, and down to earth, I love following your travels!!
OMG!!! I was going to say I'm surprised you kept trying but then realized I went back out the next day to swim with the whale shark...so we are both just super determined badasses who both didn't say anything to anyone at first! I'm glad you're ok! Do you still dive now? It took me over a year to try again, and I had to go up the first two attempts!