Traveling With Parents In Your Twenties

I’ve lost my voice, and I couldn’t hear out of my right ear until today since it never popped after my flight to LA last Wednesday. I’ve also been gaslighting myself into thinking I’m not getting sick. I think my body has finally caught up with all the nonstop “go, go, go” and is ready for a 24-hour slumber before diving into the next chapter of life.

All that to say, I’ve spent the past week in Maui, Hawaii, and it’s felt like I’ve been transported into my Google Chromecast screensaver ever since landing. We’ve visited the lavender farms, drove the Road to Hana, swam under the Wailua Falls, snorkeled among colorful-scaled fish and sea turtles, and celebrated my mom’s 50th birthday on a sunset catamaran sail last night.

Maui has been the perfect setting for my mom’s birthday, but I’d be lying if I didn’t acknowledge the hesitation I felt about coming here in the first place. Being a tourist on an island where American capitalism has long drained the energy and livelihood from the native community made me question my presence. I’m doing my best to be an ethical traveler, especially in the wake of the Lahaina fires two years ago. We’ve made a conscious effort to support local businesses and to respect areas and natural landscapes designated for residents. A study-abroad friend of mine who now lives on a neighboring island also shared a detailed list of do’s and don’ts for visiting responsibly, which I’ve been referring to often. My hope is to impose no harm while respectfully relishing the vast beauty this island has to offer. Hope and action are not always intertwined, though, so the goal is to keep educating myself during this journey of travel.

Another thought that’s been on my mind is how traveling with my parents has evolved over the years. My dad was the one who first instilled in me the importance of travel, taking me back home to Bangalore on several occasions, going bear camping and ice climbing in Alaska, and planning family trips to places like Melbourne, Montreal, and Dubai. Taking my dad to Iceland for his 50th last September was the best feeling, after all the world my dad showed me, whether it was by his side or on my own with friends. In Iceland, we did all the things he loved: snorkeling, waterfall chasing, hiking, eating hearty food. Now, being in Hawaii, we’re kind of doing the same thing for Mom, but in a tropical climate, and with a lot more built-in relaxation (I actually took a midday nap yesterday…).

In the early years, traveling with Mom and Dad was fun but also a bit consuming since I’m an only child. It helped having a buddy (Prachi) to share these experiences with. Now that I’m older, I’ve actually grown fond of traveling with them, since I can relate to them a lot more than when I was an angsty teen who didn’t find her parents to be all that cool. Looking back, that’s completely heartbreaking, but what can you do? I was going through puberty.

Seeing the world through their eyes is a perspective I’m grateful for, especially after venturing off and exploring without them for a good chunk of my travels. Even last night, seeing them dig messages into the sand that the crashing waves swept away reminded me that they enjoy the small joys in life just as I do. They are humans trying their best, just like me.

I think with perspective also comes some brutal truths, though. For me, that means seeing the ugly parts of our dynamic up close and personal, because we have no choice but to face them head-on while on vacation. I still have my moments with my mom. And to be transparent, she’s been fighting a downward-facing battle with mental illness that has taken away from her quality of life. It’s very difficult for me to digest, even after being witness to it my entire life. What she’s going through is her story to tell, but how it affects me is mine. This is my first time sharing about it, so please be kind and bear with me.

My whole life, I’ve had to keep it together because she didn’t have the resources to. I’ve had to be a calming presence in the moments of her chaos. I’ve always had to be whatever “perfect” means. I developed a really unhealthy relationship with perfectionism because of it. Lack of control was the scariest thing ever. I’ve been working hard to unlearn these ugly truths and realize it’s okay to slip up once in a while, all in the name of only being human. I feel like, in these past few months, therapy, traveling, and acting class have helped me realize that my imperfection is actually my strength. It has given me the courage to even write, after thinking for so long that there was no worth in what I had to say, since it would never reach the level of perfection I used to strive for.

I feel like the version of me people see sometimes is just my good job of putting up a front. The same way I feel like I’m not allowed to not be okay in front of Mom is the same way I automatically show up with others. To an extent, it’s a good thing, because it has given me the gift of optimism, but on the other hand, I sometimes don’t feel honest with myself, or even with the closest people in my life. Mom and I have gone through more than most can imagine. I’ve gone through so much internally. And I used to be so mad about it, but not anymore. To me, unlearning has opened my eyes to so much more. It’s helped me learn the tools to heal our relationship and find the tiny bits of joy that can be ours to share.

Like last night, on our sunset cruise, when we laid down on the net together, waves crashing below us, sun setting above, and we just laughed and smiled, talking about how cool this moment was. I told her to look at the sunset instead of me, and she said: “You are my sunset, and I want to watch you watching what makes you so happy.”

I’m still processing that sentence and her sentiment. I receive words of affirmation from her so far and few between. So last night was a step in the right direction for us. Our relationship is healing. There is a world where I don’t have to be so put together to be loved.