I love to travel. I love having somewhere to go, something to look forward to, and the feeling of stepping outside my normal routine.

 

I get excited to be in airports. I strongly dislike packing, but I recognize that it’s just part of the agreement, right? But travel also has a funny way of reminding us how little control we actually have.

A few weeks ago, my wife and I were flying back from the beach, and what was supposed to be a 4-hour journey took 8 hours. The flight hours were pushed back incrementally.  Maddening really. Also provided many opportunities to practice radical acceptance and gratitude.

And sometimes I’ve noticed, the older I get, the harder that uncertainty can feel. Not necessarily because I’m less adventurous. In fact, I think it can be the opposite. As we get older, we often become more familiar with ourselves.

We know what we like, what makes us comfortable, how we prefer to spend our time, and what happens when things go sideways. We have routines. Responsibilities. Preferences. Expectations for ourselves and others. It’s easy to fuse with those thoughts, feelings, sensations.

Experience can make us want to control things a little more.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with that. Planning a trip isn’t a problem. Having preferences isn’t a problem. Wanting your vacation to be enjoyable isn’t a problem. The trouble starts when a preference quietly turns into a requirement.

“I’d really like the day to go this way” is different from “The day has to go this way for me to enjoy it.” That distinction is one I think about a lot in therapy.

Travel is basically an uncertainty laboratory.

You can do all the things. Plan, spend hours poring over your itinerary, your packing list. The best way to get to the airport. All your to-do lists have been checked off, and you feel ready.

Then…something happens.

Travel gives us a concentrated version of something we encounter throughout life: we can make plans, but we can’t guarantee outcomes.

This is where I think ACT, or Acceptance and Commitment Therapy, has something useful to offer.

Acceptance doesn’t mean you like it. It doesn’t mean you agree or that you have to pretend to be happy. Go ahead and lean into disappointment. However, it does require willingness. Wat. What you may be asking

Willingness is making room for an uncomfortable experience so you can keep doing what matters to you. Hopefully, in a way that contributes to a rich and meaningful life, in service of your values. It means protecting your peace.

Maybe the restaurant you were excited about is closed. Maybe your flight has been delayed.

You can be disappointed. You can acknowledge that you really wanted to eat there. You certainly wanted to get to your next stop on time.

And you can also notice the thought:

“This is ruining the whole night.”, “I’m never going to get there”

Instead of immediately treating that thought as a fact, you might step back and notice:

“I’m having the thought that this is ruining the whole night.” “I’m noticing anxiety in my stomach”.

That’s cognitive defusion—the ACT skill of creating a little space between ourselves and our thoughts.

That little bit of space can give us options.

 

We can ask ourselves: What actually matters to me here?

Maybe it’s not the restaurant. Maybe it’s being on time. Maybe it’s adventure. Maybe it’s being present enough to notice something unexpected.

This is where values become especially useful.

Instead of asking:

“How do I get this trip back on track?”

We can ask:

“What kind of person do I want to be when things don’t go according to plan?”

Do I want to be curious? Flexible? Playful? Patient? Connected? Adventurous?

Because sometimes psychological flexibility looks remarkably ordinary. It looks like taking a deep breath when the flight is delayed. It looks like laughing about getting lost. It looks like choosing a different restaurant without yelling at your travel partner or blaming yourself (or Google Maps!)

It doesn’t mean you have to become someone who loves spontaneity.

It means you don’t have to let your need for certainty dictate the entire experience.

And I think this applies to much more than travel.

As we get older, we can become increasingly aware of time. We may feel more pressure to make experiences meaningful, worthwhile, or “count.” We may become more attached to doing things the right way because we know that time is limited. Others in our lives might also reinforce this in various ways.

But that can make it surprisingly difficult to simply be where we are. In this moment.

ACT asks us to loosen our grip a little.

Not because planning is bad.

Not because uncertainty isn’t uncomfortable.

And certainly not because we should stop caring about what happens.

But because there is a difference between having a plan and needing the plan to work out in order to be okay. In order to be able to stay aligned with our values.

Maybe the goal isn’t to become more spontaneous.

Maybe it’s simply to become a little more willing to say:

“This isn’t what I expected. I don’t particularly like it. And I can still choose how I want to show up.”

That, to me, is flexibility.

And maybe that’s one of the better things travel can teach us.