How Solo Travel Changed My Life

“People don’t just take trips—trips take people.” – John Steinbeck

I never planned to travel alone. In fact, I booked a dreamy 7-day cruise for two. It was supposed to be the trip of a lifetime—an escape from the rush, a time to reconnect, reflect, and relax with a loved one. I was counting down the days with so much excitement.

Then, life happened. All my plus ones cancelled on me—one by one.

I couldn’t get a refund, and there I was: faced with two options—lose the money and stay home, or take a bold step and sail away solo.

I chose the sea.
And that one decision changed my life.

From Lagos to Venice

With a knot in my stomach and my suitcase in hand, I flew from Lagos, Nigeria, to Venice, Italy—the departure point of the cruise. My heart was racing. Not from fear of the unknown, but from a cocktail of curiosity, nerves, and a deep sense of “what on earth am I doing?”

Venice was a dream. The ship was majestic. And I was... completely alone.

But what I didn’t know then was that I was exactly where I needed to be.

My Route to Rediscovery

The cruise took me to stunning ports—each one more magical than the last:

• Dubrovnik, Croatia

• Mykonos, Greece

• Santorini, Greece

• Split, Croatia

• ...and back to Venice, Italy

I wandered cobbled streets, watched the sun melt into Aegean waters, got lost in alleyways that smelled of olives and ocean breeze. I didn’t have anyone to double-check directions with, or to share gelato. I had me.

And that was enough.

Strangers Turned Friends

One of the most surprising joys of traveling solo was how open I became. With no familiar face beside me, I found myself striking up conversations with strangers at dinner, by the pool, during excursions.

And guess what? Those strangers became friends.

We laughed. We danced under Mediterranean stars. We shared stories, meals, and moments I’ll never forget. It reminded me that the world is filled with kind, curious, beautiful people—if only we let ourselves see them.

The Power of My Own Company

Perhaps the greatest gift of that trip wasn’t the views (though Santorini at sunset is something else), or the new friendships—it was the quiet revelation that I’m really good company.

I learned to eat alone and enjoy it.
To wake up to my own rhythm.
To take photos just for me.
To listen to my thoughts and not fear their silence.

I learned that solitude isn’t loneliness. It’s freedom.

I left Venice a different person from the one who arrived. More grounded, more grateful, more in love with my life and my own presence.

So yes, people don’t just take trips—trips take people.

And this one took me to the heart of myself.

If you’ve ever hesitated about solo travel, let this be your sign: go. Book that ticket. Take the leap.

Because on the other side of fear… is the adventure of a lifetime.

Dee💞

Aging, Expectations & the Woman’s Burden of Beauty

 Aging is inevitable—yet our responses to it are anything but neutral. Especially when it comes to women. We’re living in a world that tells us to “age gracefully,” but the definition of grace seems loaded with impossible expectations. This post is a reflection on how we view aging differently for men and women, and why it’s time to change the narrative.

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The Double Standard of Aging

When men age, they’re celebrated. Grey hair is called “distinguished,” wrinkles are framed as signs of wisdom, and their value seems to increase with time. Society even coined a term—“zaddy”—to admire older men with charisma and confidence.

But for women, it’s a different story.

Women are expected to look 40 at 60. Compliments like “You don’t look your age!” have become standard praise, reinforcing the belief that aging should be invisible. Wrinkles, grey hair, and sagging skin are treated like problems to solve, not natural changes to honor.

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The Pressure is Real

The beauty industry thrives on anti-aging narratives—creams, procedures, diets, and filters designed to help women appear younger. It’s not just the world doing the policing; women have internalized this pressure. We often chase youth not for ourselves, but because we fear what the world might say when we show up as we are.

But this chase is exhausting. And truthfully, aging is not a flaw. It’s a privilege.

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Aging is a Privilege

Not everyone gets to grow old. Those lines on your face? They’re from laughter, worry, and love. That grey hair? It’s proof that you’ve lived through years, seasons, storms, and joys. Aging is a testimony. It’s a map of your journey.

There’s so much going on inside a woman’s body as she ages—hormonal shifts, emotional growth, physical changes. To add the burden of “looking younger” on top of it all is too much. It’s unnecessary. And it’s time we start telling a different story.

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Let’s Change the Narrative

What if instead of chasing youth, we embraced wellness?
What if we praised strength, resilience, and radiance instead of tight skin and smooth foreheads?

Here are a few reminders we all need:

• 🌿 You don’t owe the world youth. You owe yourself peace.

• 🌿 It’s okay to love your laugh lines—they mean you’ve laughed.

• 🌿 Your body is not failing you; it’s adapting to the life it’s lived.

• 🌿 Your value is not tied to how closely you resemble a magazine cover.

We must shift the focus from aesthetics to health—physical, mental, and emotional. That’s what truly sustains a fulfilling, vibrant life.

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To Every Woman Reading This

You are enough—right now, as you are.

There’s no shame in taking care of yourself, in wearing makeup, or choosing skincare you love. But let it be rooted in joy, not fear. Let it come from a place of love, not pressure.

Here’s to growing older, growing wiser, and growing unapologetically.

Dee💃

The Weight of Sadness: Letting It In, Letting It Pass

I haven’t felt sadness in a long time.

My life, in recent years, has been full of joy — not perfect, but beautiful. Little bumps here and there, small problems that show up and then quietly disappear. I’ve danced through seasons with a grateful heart, laughing easily, waking up light.

But yesterday, something shifted.

I lost my cousin — someone so full of life, so real, so loved. And suddenly, I remembered what sadness feels like.

Not the kind you name easily. The kind that sits in your chest like a rock. That doesn't ask for permission. That comes in like a tide and floods your entire being.

I couldn’t eat. Not because I didn’t want to — but because I couldn’t. My stomach turned as if I had eaten something bad. My body was reacting to a truth my heart couldn’t quite say out loud.

I couldn’t sleep either. My heart hurt — like physically hurt. There was a dull, persistent ache in my chest, and a deep hollowness I couldn't reach. I stared into space for long stretches, blank, quiet, heavy. I didn't want to talk. I couldn’t pick calls. I just wanted to lie down and disappear into stillness.

This… this is what sadness feels like.

It consumes you, not with rage, but with weight. Gentle, unrelenting weight. It doesn't shout. It doesn’t rush. It lingers in your breath and bones.

But in all this, I’m learning something powerful.

I’m allowing myself to grieve.

I’m letting the memories come — the laughter, the hugs, the spontaneous dances. And yes, the tears too. Hot, real tears that sting and soothe at the same time. I’m not fighting them anymore.

Just as I celebrate joy, I am giving myself permission to feel this sadness too.

And you know what? There’s a strange kind of freedom in that.

To feel deeply is to be alive. To mourn is to remember love. And to grieve is to honor what was beautiful.

What I hold on to most now is this: the joy will return. There are many more joyful days ahead. I know this, because I’ve lived them — and I’ll live them again.

But for now, I sit with my sadness. I let it stay. And when it’s ready, I’ll let it go.

Dee😭