• Adventure

I’m Afraid of Change—And Yet It’s the Only Routine I Know

I’ve been exposed to new environments and fresh starts more often than I’ve experienced routine or stability. And yet, adapting is still hard for me—almost every single time.

Luckily, I’m stubborn, ambitious, and devoted enough to gather all my strength and keep going, no matter the circumstances. You’d think that with so much hands-on experience, I’d be used to it by now. But the truth is, every situation is different, and with each one, I discover something new about myself.

Change is a constant in my life—one I embrace with all my being. But that doesn’t mean I like it. It’s uncomfortable. It’s stressful. It brings fear. A lot of it.

Many times I used to catch myself resisting change, and that resistance alone drain all my energy, leaving me even more stressed and frustrated. My strategy? I push myself into the unknown—fully exposed to whatever life has to offer. Good or bad, right or wrong—those labels don’t matter to me. It’s all just part of the process.

I trust in my courage and in my capacity to navigate the “new.” This approach has worked pretty well for me so far. I’ve built a strong mind and a strong body—both capable of recovering after emotional or physical breakdowns. My body speaks to me when I take the time to listen. It tells me when things are too much, too fast, too harsh. And when I ignore it, it ends up shouting—usually through illness or fatigue. That’s the signal: it’s time to slow down.

Since starting this journey with RideOurStory, I’ve been thrown into all sorts of unknown situations—constantly evolving from who I thought I was to who I’m becoming. There’s rarely a day without fear creeping in.

I remember freezing on icy roads in Turkey, not knowing if I still had all my fingers intact, just riding forward and thinking, this too shall pass. Or being trapped under my bike in the desert, covered in sand. Or sleeping in the middle of nowhere in Iran, mind racing with all the things that could go wrong.

Even a simple walk down a street—getting suspicious looks—can be enough to make me feel tense and unsafe. And yes, I have every reason to be stressed in moments like that. But I’ve learned the unknown can be both the best and the worst thing that can happen.

Afghanistan. That place left a mark in many ways. I remember suffering from food poisoning that quickly led to dehydration. Ever experienced that? Your body slows down, your strength disappears, your skin turns pale, and even standing up becomes a struggle. Add fever, muscle pain, and shallow breathing. I was in the mountains—four hours away from the nearest hospital—and I started wondering: Can I make it? Will I even get to a hospital on my motorcycle? What are my options?

And then, I broke down. I cried. It was one of those moments when I ask myself: Why am I doing this? What am I trying to prove to myself?

But I know myself. I’ve never liked being afraid of something to the point where fear robs me of living fully. So whenever something scares me—when it pushes against my comfort zone—I face it head-on. I expose myself to it again and again until the fear shifts.

Do I like it? No.
But do I like being trapped by fear or comfort? Absolutely not.
So, I do what needs to be done.

Ten years ago, when I first traveled alone to India, I was too scared to explore the wild and the unknown. I returned home with one promise to myself: One day I’ll go back. I’ll explore and conquer my fear of the unknown.

And here I am. Funny enough, that first trip to India also sparked a hidden passion: motorcycle travel. In Rishikesh, I rented a small Honda (coincidence? Maybe not) and had my first solo ride. No driver’s license, no prior experience—just me, a little bike, and the mountain roads.

At one point, I ran out of gas and ended up pushing the bike back to the rental shop. I laughed, thanked the universe, and promised myself that next time, I’d come prepared.

Step one? I got my motorcycle license.

Now, ten years later, here I am. On a big adventure bike—a Honda—riding through Asia and discovering its hidden wonders on two wheels.

Am I scared?
Yes!!

But I’m adapting. Constantly. Facing my fears and embracing change as the one true routine I know.

And what have I learned by pushing through it all?

That most of the things we fear are constructs of the mind—built from definitions we’ve assigned, associations we’ve made, attachments we hold, and the judgments we carry. Especially the ones we place on ourselves.

But some fears… some are rooted in real threats.

It’s one thing to deal with rough roads or scary strangers—it’s another thing to hear that borders might close, that new attacks are announced every morning, that embassies might not answer their phones when you need them most. The anxiety this time wasn’t abstract—it was rooted in real-world consequences. What if we couldn’t get out? What if the route ahead vanished? What if we got stuck in a place that turned overnight from a destination into a danger zone?

And yet, this too is part of the journey. A different kind of fear. One that reminds me how fragile and unpredictable the world can be.

But I still choose to move forward. Because fear, in all its forms, will never be stronger than my desire to live fully.

And maybe that’s the mark I want to leave on this world: this idea that everything can look upside down, confusing or terrifying—until you flip your perspective. Sometimes, it’s not the world that has to change. It’s just the angle from which you look at it. And when that shifts, everything does. That’s how I found freedom in fear, growth in discomfort, and beauty in chaos.