What’s It Like to Travel as a Young Alcoholic?
What’s It Like to Travel as a Young Alcoholic?
Well, for one—I finally get to live the dream I always wanted.
Little Chloe had one mission: travel the world. (Plot twist—she didn’t know she’d be doing it sober.)
Right now, I’m writing this from Malaysia, and I’m doing pretty well. But let’s rewind two years. I was in a fellowship meeting, staring out the window at some trees. I drifted off (standard)—“this view could be anywhere in the world.” Then came a reality check: changing the scenery doesn’t change the thoughts. Essentially, if I were plonked in a dense jungle right now, I’d still have the same feral, restless mind rattling around my skull. Bollocks.
That’s when I realised I still had a lot of work to do before I was truly ready. Nevertheless, after a few false starts, I finally was. Fast forward to today—I’ve been backpacking for eight months. And honestly? I still feel like an infant in this game. Balancing travel, sobriety, and solo life hasn’t come easy – and here’s my take on it.
Addiction Packs Its Bags Too
Here’s the thing: alcoholics don’t get to leave addiction at home and we do experience the world differently. I’m emotional, impulsive, and my mind has one ridiculously sneaky mission— self-destruct.
Add travelling to that mix? Spicy. New people, new places, endless novelty—it can become a constant reset rather than progression because I tie myself to one environment, then move on and start all over again. Therefore, to avoid a new identity with each new location, the inward journey and routines are important to stay true and grounded.
Being honest with you, for a while, I let myself get away with bad behaviour because I thought “ah well, never gonna see them again”. But the truth is: I see myself every single day. If I keep practising unhelpful behaviours, they become who I am and that is not something I am willing to risk.
So, yeah —accountability and reflection require a permanent spot in my backpack as I travel solo and sober.
Walking the Narrow Path
A few weeks back in Sarawak, I explained my experience as this: it feels like I’m walking on a narrow path with fire closely on both sides. And for some reason, I’m prone to sticking my hand in the flames even though I know it will burn me.
Life is basically a booby-trapped jungle for an addict. Overeating, caffeine binges, sugar rushes, doom-scrolling, craving chaos—it all feeds the dragon. The dragon of addiction. And here’s the thing: that dragon never dies. It just curls up in the shadows, waiting. Every time I slip into those behaviours, I’m tossing it scraps, and the scraps make it stronger. The scariest part? Half the time, I can go days, weeks, without even realising I’m feeding it. The devil can look handsome in a suit!
And sometimes, my brain gets sneaky: “Relax, you’re on holiday”. Firstly, what a load of Sugar Honey Ice Tea. Holiday mode doesn’t count after eight months and recovery isn’t something I can clock in and out of. Without it, I’ve got no life to live. Some days that reality really annoys me—but it’s the deal. Sobriety in exchange for freedom.
Missing the “High”
A few months into travelling, I realised why I sometimes felt a subtle emptiness: I missed “taking it higher.” Let’s say, I’ve spent an exciting day scootering around or exploring temples – I’d want to elevate the feeling, add an extra buzz! For years, that came from alcohol.
You see, alcoholics are basically orchestrators of feelings. Sad? Drop a drink. Happy? Pump it up-p-p- with a drink. It can take a long time to re-wire this thinking and behaviour, but the truth is that “high” was never real. It is sobriety that takes me higher than I ever thought possible. It just takes practice. A bottle of wine is quick relief, but sobriety is the infinite high. Thanks to this awareness, I remind myself as I venture: “it’s not what I’m losing, it’s what I’m gaining”.
Glamourising the Past
Even three years in, I can still play with the idea of drinking in my mind whilst traveling, and sometimes I glamourise the chaos. For example, I used to Google photos of celebrities with needles in their arms shooting up. (Yes, I know – wtf).
The only way to stop these thoughts is to nip them in the bud before they gain momentum and snowball into something unmanageable. As my mind plays tricks on me, I am constantly reminded of the power of speaking with people, either from home or on the road, to keep me grounded. Plus, it turns out that fellow travellers love asking questions and learning about alcoholism – so it’s a great chance to stay close to the topic. People are much more open and supportive than I ever expect them to be.
The Phone-Free Experiment + Emotions
On that note, did you know I had my phone stolen in the Philippines? Honestly—I thought it was brilliant. I hate phones and the impact they have on my life, so I decided to roll with it and went phoneless for two months.
At first, it felt freeing. But here’s the problem: no phone means no regular contact with the people who keep me accountable—the ones who check my thinking and remind me to stay sane. And let’s be honest, isolation is addiction’s best friend, so when solo backpacking, a means of communication is important. This is where I am reminded that I have to take responsibility for myself and as much as I would like to be off-grid, I need to stay close to people who have my back. Yes, it is a little different to the traditional uncontactable traveller, but I am not normal – lol. I just have to suck it up and deal with it.
Actually, it was my sponsor who told me to take responsibility, sort out my shit out, and buy a phone – a perfect example of why I need regular contact with people to keep me on the right track. Sulk. [Enter: the boundary era with mobile phones. Current status of that? Poor].
Now, let’s talk about emotions for a sec. Emotional regulation and travel absolutely go hand in hand, you are going to be tested! Regulation is something I’ve been learning—slowly but surely—over the past three years. Still, I can catch myself spiralling from calm to chaos in seconds, whether it’s an attempted scam or simply feeling reduced to a walking price tag. (The irony isn’t lost on me, given I once worked in sales myself). And when emotions are already rumbling beneath the surface, even the simplest things—like planning routes—can feel overwhelming. I’m endlessly grateful to my old housemate Ellie, who patiently morphs into my unofficial travel guide when I can’t get my head straight. If there’s one takeaway, it’s this: be gentle with yourself, and remember—it’s always okay to lean on others when you need to.
A Question I Keep Asking Myself
Lately I’ve been wondering if constant movement is healthy. Am I serving myself by constantly moving on, or just dodging something? That’s one question I’ll keep pondering, but what I do know is that travel does give me the space to ask deeper questions. It’s forced me to re-think what “normal” even means, and challenged how I show up in relationships. Fascinating stuff.
Living the Dream (and Dealing With the Annoying Bits)
Some days, I travel in honour of the girl I used to be—the one in pain, chained to addiction. I’ll catch a glimpse of myself zooming past on a scooter and think: you did it, Chloe. You bloody did it.
Do I know what’s next? Nope. Do I know it can be wonderful if I keep doing the right thing? Absolutely.
But here’s the kicker: doing the right thing can be annoying as hell. Sobriety means meetings, routines, mindfulness, and check-ins. And sometimes, I just want to forget what day it is and float through life like some free-spirited nomad. But that’s a trap. Without those routines, my thinking gets scary and I’m back running the show again. Speaking from experience here, it gets dark, quickly. So, as above, I constantly remind myself, it’s not what I’m losing, it’s what I’m gaining.
Plus, when I’m locked into recovery and get this balancing act of travel and sobriety nailed, the fountain flows—and nothing else matters.
The Weird, Wonderful Reality
So what’s it like to travel as a young alcoholic?
It’s weird. It’s wonderful. It’s lonely, messy, hilarious, confusing, inspiring, frustrating —and ultimately freeing.
Above all—it’s POSSIBLE. From living chained to addiction, to floating around Asia sober—it’s bloody possible.
And every so often, I catch my reflection, grin, and say: we did it, mate. We actually did it.
Now, here’s a summary of 11 tips to staying sober whilst backpacking:
- Ask yourself are you really ready
- Control the contrables and don’t put yourself in unhelpful environments
- Nip any thoughts of using in the bud
- Connection is key: don’t isolate as attractive it may be (note: no one is stealing your ‘travel time’)
- Keep engaging in what got you sober in the first place (unless it was meth, don’t do that)
- Use routine to stay grounded and decrease losing yourself
- Change a thought, move a muscle – (if you have to go on a walk as soon as your eyes open to settle your mind, just do it)
- Accept that there will be tough times
- The remedy to fomo is the mantra “it’s not what I’m losing, it’s what I’m gaining”
- Watch for any instances of replacing one high for another
AND ABOVE ALL
- Do not make travel your new God
From your humble sober backpacker in Asia just trying to figure it out, I love ya
Chloe