I scrolled and scrolled some more on my silver-blue MacBook Air, the Kayak website practically begging me to drown in a million flight options. This is why the parents always book our flights; I muttered to myself. Five hundred dollars out of my eighteen-year-old, currently jobless pocket. Not only the money, but the responsibilities: layovers, Uber rides, finding the right terminal, navigating it all alone.

 

When I finally pressed the purchase button, anxiety filled my chest so quickly it felt like someone had twisted a knot beneath my ribs. Anxiety about flying alone. About navigating security without getting yelled at or getting weirdly patted down. About simply sitting on a plane by myself. Doing things alone has always made me second-guess everything—and I’ve never fully understood why.

 

The day finally came, a Friday near the end of September, and I was aggressively trying (and failing) to slam my suitcase shut. It was actually my roommate Ella’s suitcase—the one she brought back for me after going home last weekend. At 9:30 a.m., Ella and I stepped into the elevator  and as the doors slid shut, she hit the button for G. Three beeps later, the elevator opened to the lobby, and I felt people’s eyes on me—probably confused by the ridiculous pink plane pillow wrapped around my neck. 

 

We found Ella’s silver Chevy Malibu in the parking lot and stuffed everything into the backseat. She typed “Kansas City International Airport” into her GPS, and the robotic voice led us out of the lot. The whole thirty-minute drive, we talked about how surreal this all felt—how surreal it was to be young adults, dropping me off to fly across the country to Sacramento, California.

 

Those thirty minutes felt more like five. The second I stepped out of the car, nerves slammed into me so hard it felt like my breath was being crumpled into a tight ball, blocking my airway, and refusing to let me go—even though my heart desperately wanted to go. My heart wanted to see the person I had been missing most. The person I’ve been excited to see for months now. 

 

I walked through the airport’s beautiful clear glass doors like it was a dramatic scene from a movie. This place was much bigger than the tiny Des Moines airport back home. After wandering around like a lost puppy, I finally found security and hurried towards it, glancing at my watch—three hours early. Perfect.

 

When I reached the front of the line, I handed my ID to the officer with a nervous smile. He looked at it and then to me and said, “I wouldn't have believed you were 18 if your ID didn’t say so.”

 

Okay? You didn’t have to say that, I winced internally.

 

As I started unloading my items onto the conveyor belt, another officer pointed toward a scanner. “Twelve and under?”

 

“Um… no, sir. I’m 18,” I said, stepping toward the lane all the adults were using.

 

Is it my hair? My clothes? Do I really look that young? My already stressed brain spiraled.

 

I knew flying alone would make me uneasy, but being repeatedly mistaken for a middle-schooler didn’t help. It made me feel less independent, and less confident like maybe I shouldn’t be allowed to fly alone. Like maybe I needed someone with me. 

 

But looking back, this experience wasn’t just about flying solo; it was the final puzzle piece of stepping into my young adult life. Moving away from home. Doing things no one could do for me. I learned that I can do hard things on my own even when I don’t want to. Doing them only strengthens my confidence in who I’m becoming.

After clearing security, more smoothly than expected despite the comments, I gathered my things and studied my boarding pass like it was written in another language. Gate B64. I followed a green sign pointing toward the B gates, and it was quite the hall with long hallways, moving walkways, and another long hallway.

I passed a family of four, and their toddler looked right at me with big eyes and asked his mom, “Where’s her mom, mommy?”

 

That was my last straw.

 

I’m eighteen. I may not be tall, and I may have a young face—but I am an adult, and

 

I can do things on my own, no matter how much they scare me.

 

I eventually reached my way to my gate, boarded the plane and was waiting in line to find my seat. I was riding Southwest, which meant seats weren’t assigned, just chosen based on your group. I was group C, so I felt the rising anxiety of imagining myself sandwiched between two complete strangers. I made my way down the narrow aisle, my head moving back and forth, scanning for the best open spot. I came across a young girl pressed up against the window seat with her headphones on. I took a double glanced and scrambled in my head, maybe she’s flying alone too, should I sit by here? So, I strongly lifted my silver suitcase into the overhead bin and slid into the middle seat beside her.

 

It was awkward at first, but I finally took the chance and said, “Hey, are you flying alone too?”

 

 “Yes, I am!” the girl with long dark hair responded, pulling her headphones off. 

 

“Okay yeah, I thought you were too! How old are you?” I curiously asked, hoping she was close to my age.

 

 “I’m 14! How old are you?” 

 

Wow, I thought. She seemed so calm and put-together for flying across the country at fourteen. 

 

“Oh dang, I’m 18,” I said, suddenly embarrassed. 

 

“Oh nice! You look young for your age but that’s definitely a good thing,” she smiled. 

 

We continued talking almost the entire three-and-a-half-hour flight. We explained why we were both going to Sacramento, how excited we both were, and we even exchanged Instagram pages near the end. Her name was Laney. 

 

Talking to Laney made the whole flight, and the whole experience, such a relief. But it also left me with questions about myself. Why is it so easy for others, even younger people, to do things confidently on their own? Why can’t I be that confident doing things solo?

 

The wheels screeched against the runway, and a moment later the pilot’s deep yet welcoming voice filled the cabin: “Welcome to Sacramento, California, folks!”

 

The Psychology Today article, “Why You Shouldn’t Fear Going Solo,”  by Sophia Dembling argues that people often overestimate how uncomfortable it will feel to do things alone. Many people, like me, fear judgment, yet Dembling explains that solo experiences can be empowering and can reflect a growing sense of confidence. She encourages readers to embrace being alone as an opportunity to explore independence. She notes that “the research…has found that…people fear they won't enjoy doing some things alone” (par. 2), which captures exactly how I felt about flying by myself. My focus wasn’t on the experience; it was on how others might perceive me. But just as the research suggests, the fear I built up in my head didn’t match the reality at all. 

 

The moment Sam’s car pulled up to the curb at the Sacramento airport and I met his bright blue eyes, all the spiraling thoughts, the imagined judgement, and my anxieties dissolved. That shift—from anticipating discomfort to realizing I was capable—mirrors Dembling’s research-driven point: the fear of going solo is often far worse than the reality.

 

I’ve always understood that some things just don’t come easily for me. School hasn’t come easily. Being a good soccer player hasn’t come easily. Endurance has never been easy. Doing things alone has never been easy. But that’s the beauty of it. Enduring things that aren’t easy and pushing through discomfort shows the power of your own worth and self-confidence. Proving to yourself that you can do hard things is one of the most transformative gifts you give yourself.

 

And although flying solo was very uncomfortable for me at first, it made me stronger, because on the way home everything felt like a breeze. Sometimes experiences and battles choose you with the sole purpose of making you stronger.

Doing long-distance from 1,800 miles away, twenty-five hours apart, and a whole other time zone is nothing but hard and inconvenient. I believe it takes a special couple to overcome that and grow stronger despite the distance. I believe there is purpose behind every struggle that finds you. So, ride out every struggle, because it will only make you stronger.

​

Work Cited

Dembling, Sophia. “Why You Shouldn’t Fear Going Solo.” Psychology Today, Sussex Publishers, 17 Apr. 2015,

www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/the-introverts-corner/201504/why-you-shouldnt-fear-going-solo.