Why can't 'Lubbock Mike' be more like 'Road Trip Mike?'
Something happens when I travel, that brings me out of my shell. What if I could replicate that feeling at home? Would I finally be able to make new friends?
I’m curled up in a ball, facing the front door to my apartment, tears pouring from my eyes.
I want to open the door.
I want to go outside. I want to meet people. I want to do things.
I want to have new experiences.
But I can’t. My PTSD won’t let me.
Two weeks ago, I was on an adventure:
I met a long-distance friend for breakfast.
I took a 3-day roadtrip through southeast Colorado, eastern New Mexico, and north Texas.
I drove through miles of beautiful mountains, hills, and plains.
I got stuck in the mud on a dirt road.
I talked with a Vietnam veteran at the Route 66 Midpoint Cafe.
I also saw the site of the Ludlow Massacre, where John D. Rockefeller hired troops to open fire on a coal mining camp… and I drove through a hail storm in West Texas that darkened the skies and made me slow down from 75 mph to 55.
I took a tour of a coal mining museum in Trinidad, Colorado.
I found a really cool vintage and record store in Colorado Springs that was once the home office of the actual Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman.
And I drove 20 miles of dangerous mountain roads, with no shoulder and a several thousand foot drop, to get to the summit of Pikes Peak! (Which, I’m not gonna lie, had me so scared I was sure I would either pass out on the way up, or at least, pee my pants. Fortunately, neither one actually happened…)
I had a great time, and I talked to everybody I saw, everywhere I went.
And then I came home. And I hardly got out of bed for a week.
I slept as late as I could every morning, often staying in bed until 2 o’clock in the afternoon.
I hardly ate.
I didn’t do any work.
I even skipped my morning prayers.
I didn’t journal at all… and I left texts from friends and family unread.
(I did order DoorDash every few days, so at least, I ate something…)
I stayed in the same clothes all week, and I put off doing my laundry until I had to do it, so I could put on something clean.
I binged two seasons of Resident Alien.
I put off working on my newsletter and my veteran’s support group. Which, in the first week of April (the start of quarter two), I knew the single most important thing I can do to keep my group growing right now is to talk to each of my 19 members, one on one, and find out what they need and want in a support group.
I believe that’s true. I believe that if I have those conversations, they’ll tell me where I need to focus for the rest of this quarter — if not the rest of the year! I believe having those conversations is the most important thing I can do.
I believe my support group won’t continue to grow in the right direction, if I don’t have those conversations.
And yet, here it is, mid-May… and I still haven’t talked to a single one of them.
To my credit, I did finally get my laundry done… and that same day, I also talked to one of my friends for like an hour…
But then it came time to think about reaching out to my members… and I came unglued.
I’m so scared to ask my members what they want. I’m even avoiding having conversations with them that aren’t about the group… because what if the group comes up in conversation, and I’m not prepared with the right questions to ask?
What if they see that I don’t know everything I’m talking about? What if I don’t make the right impression, and they decide they don’t even want to be a part of my group anymore, regardless of whether it’s helping them, or not?
I’m scared that if I start having these conversations, my members will see that I don’t know what I’m doing. That I don’t have it all together. That I don’t know all the answers. Or worse — that I don’t have any of them.
And in my own worldview… the leader of the support group has to have the answers… otherwise, what’s even the point of assembling a group in the first place?
I’m so afraid that they’re going to see all my struggles, and view them all as weakness.
I’m scared they won’t place their faith or trust in me, but will think I’m unqualified to help them, or to build the type of community I’m dreaming of.
I’m scared I’ll never believe in myself.
Which, if I was still traveling — if I was still in the midst of some grand adventure — I wouldn’t be having this problem.
When I’m in travel mode, I’m fun, outgoing, relaxed, comfortable, confident…
I can talk to anybody, anywhere… about anything.
But then I get home and everything changes. It happens every time I travel.
As soon as I’m back home, I get stuck in my own thoughts, and I get nervous, anxious, and insecure. I convince myself nobody likes me, and I don’t know how to do anything, and rather than figure out how to get out of this thinking…
I double down and I do things like stay in bed until 2, and refuse to shower or even brush my teeth for like, three days. I tell myself the most horrible things about myself. I start to believe my insecurities are true… and that they’re almost like these phantom spirits, that hang around my home and wait to infect me with their poison…
And maybe when I’m traveling, I’m far enough away from home that they can’t reach me? But the second I’m back in my apartment, I’m at their mercy once again.
And sometimes I feel like, no matter how much I grow, I’ll never break free of the lies they tell.
I give into the anxiety, every time… and my thoughts spiral out of control… until I’m bawling my eyes out, sitting on the floor in my apartment, sweating through my clothes, completely incapable of performing even the smallest tasks.
Why, though?
I’m not like that when I’m traveling. Or even when I’m around other people, like family and friends. So why am I like that when I’m home alone?
And what can I start to differently, to be more like Road Trip Mike, even when I am feeling anxious, frustrated, or insecure? Can I do anything differently? Or am I stuck like this on account of my PTSD? Is this just how my life is now, forever?
How can I bring more of the positive road trip energy into my day-to-day, dull and dreadful, Lubbock life?
How can I believe in myself, in my talents and abilities, my mission, my purpose… when so much of the time, I don’t even think I’m the right person to tackle all this?
Some of my fears probably are founded. After all, I don’t know how to build this kind of community. I have a lot of questions about it, that I don’t know how to answer.
I’m certain my members will have questions I can’t answer, either. Like, of course they will…
And some of my ideas probably won’t pan out. Some of the things my members will want, I might not be able to deliver. At least, not yet.
Some plans might backfire.
Some people might now want to join.
But none of those things make me wrong for wanting to help. None of it means I have a bad idea, or that I’m the wrong person for the job. It just means there are things I legitimately don’t know how to do, yet. And that’s going to lead to mistakes, setbacks, and yes, occasional failure.
But that’s not a reason not to get started. After all… nine times out of ten, failure is where the real growth happens.
So what if I’m afraid?
So what if I get everything wrong?
So what if I make mistakes?
Mistakes don’t mean it’s not worth pursuing. They don’t mean I’m incompetent, or too stupid or unqualified to achieve the task.
They don’t mean it’s time to give up and go search for something new, some new way to occupy my time…
They don’t mean that it’s all hopeless… that I’m destined to fail before I begin… that I ruin everything I touch… that I’ll never get anything right…
So why does the fear of making a bad decision make me hole up in my apartment, and curl up in a ball and sob uncontrollably for an hour as I sweat through my t-shirt… instead of just do a simple task like send one member a text and just say, “Hey, I’d love to chat with you about the group; when’s a good time?”
Like how hard is that, really? (Apparently, pretty damn hard…)
Why does just the thought of sending that text intimidate me to the point I can’t get out of bed, I’m refusing to eat healthy, and I put off basic hygiene and wait until I have four loads of dirty laundry that need to get done because I don’t have anything clean left to put on?
Why can I not just send one text? Why does it reduce me to tears, and turn me into a hysterical mess?
If I was traveling, it wouldn’t feel so hard.
If I was on day two of a week-long road trip, I could text each one of my members like it’s nobody’s business. I could dominate those conversations. I could feel free to express myself openly, to tell them I don’t have all the answers and I need their input to help make this group someplace they want to be…
I can hear my friends and my mentors in my head, “Just do the thing you’re afraid of! The more times you do, the easier it gets!”
Okay…
But what about when your past trauma has got you so twisted, that just the thought of the scary thing makes you collapse in a ball, and cry so hard you sweat through your clothes, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t turn the emotions off?
You have to just sit there, and let this moment happen, let the emotions flow over you freely, like tidal waves…
Let the fear pierce your soul…
Let your own dark thoughts temporarily occlude your vision…
Let biology run its course, and get the anxiety out of your body…
And let yourself experience all of it, without judgment, so that when the moment is passed, you can examine the thoughts and feelings that came up…
And find the triggers that keep setting you off, and try to defuse them…
Or at least learn to move through these moments quicker, with less resistance and greater awareness each time you do… until finally, those fears don’t have the same pull they did before…
I don’t know if I can ever get to that point, as Lubbock Mike. But I know that even big, scary things are easier and more exciting for me when I’m Road Trip Mike.
So I know it’s possible. Like, there must be a little switch somewhere in my mind, that lets me go from anxious, afraid, and insecure when I’m at home, to courageous, bold, and entertaining, when I’m on the road.
I don’t know how to turn on the courageous side of me, when I am at home… but I bet, if I could figure that out, it would change everything.
And maybe then… I could be afraid… even deathly so… but still be able to do the thing I really, really want to do.
The Toolkit
The Compass Framework: Bringing Your ‘Road Trip Self’ Home
You know that person you become when you travel? The one who talks to Vietnam veterans at diners and befriends strangers on 14,000-foot mountain tops?
That's not a different person. That's you without the weight of home-based triggers.
Here's something I've learned after years of being two completely different people: You can bring Road Trip You back home. It just takes some intentional navigation.
Understanding the Two Sides
First, let's name what's really happening:
Road Trip You
Talks to everybody
Seeks new experiences
Feels confident and relaxed
Takes on challenges (even terrifying mountain roads)
Makes decisions quickly
Feels worthy of connection
Home You
Stays in bed until 2 PM
Avoids basic tasks
Spirals into self-doubt
Puts off important conversations
Questions every ability
Feels unworthy of trust
The difference isn't personality. It's environment – and the triggers each space holds.
The Compass Points
Here's your framework for navigation:
N - Notice Your Location Triggers
Pay attention to what specifically changes when you cross your apartment threshold:
Physical sensations (tension, heaviness)
First thoughts that arise
Energy shifts
Behavioral impulses
Write these down. Awareness is your first tool.
E - Extract Travel Elements
What makes travel feel safer for connection?
No established patterns to fall into
People don't know your history
Every interaction has a clean slate
You have a built-in conversation starter ("I'm visiting from...")
There's an end date to any awkwardness
W - Work With Transitions
Create a decompression ritual when returning home:
Acknowledge the shift you're feeling
Do one Road Trip You type activity within 24 hours, to keep the excitement alive
Text one person before unpacking
Schedule something social in the near future (like going to a coffee shop next weekend, or something that’s not too overwhelming)
The key: Don't let Home You fully take over before Road Trip You gets a foothold.
S - Start Small
You don't need to be at Pikes Peak to find your courage. Try these:
The Coffee Shop Mission: Go to a local coffee shop with the sole purpose of having one conversation. Pretend you're a tourist in your hometown. What would Road Trip You ask the barista?
The One-Text Experiment: Before your anxiety can build, send one text to a friend or family member: "Hey, I'm working on connecting more. Want to chat sometime this week?" Then immediately do something physical - walk, shower, make food. Keep your energy high. Don't let the spiral start.
The Stranger Practice: Once a week, talk to someone new as if you're passing through town. The grocery clerk, the librarian, anyone. Use your Road Trip persona, and let the conversation flow freely and naturally.
Breaking the Paralysis Pattern
When you feel anxiety coming:
Name it: "This is my PTSD trying to protect me"
Challenge it: "What would Road Trip Me do right now?"
One tiny step: Send the text, make the call, open the door
Move immediately: Don't let the anxiety settle
The Truth About Your Two Selves
Here's what I've learned: Road Trip You isn't fake. Home You isn't the "real" you. They're both you, responding to different environmental cues.
Your PTSD has convinced Home You that isolation equals safety.
But Road Trip You knows the truth - connection is where life happens.
You already have everything you need. You've proven it on every trip. The courage that lets you navigate mountain roads? It's the same courage needed to text a friend when you’re at home and you feel alone.
Your Next Move
Pick one thing Road Trip You would do easily. Maybe it's:
Texting one family member
Going to one new place in your home town
Having one conversation with a stranger
Scheduling one video call
Do it within 24 hours. Don't think. Just channel your Road Trip energy and move.
Remember: You're not broken. You're not two different people. You're one person who's learned to be brave away from home. Now it's time to bring that bravery back with you.
The compass always points true north, whether you're at Pikes Peak or in the safety of your own home. You just have to trust it.
Self-reflection
What’s one thing that’s holding you back, in your home environment, or in your day-to-day routine… that you know if you could change, you’d be able to do more of what you really want to do?
What would that change look like, and how would your new lifestyle bring you greater purpose, meaning, or direction?
Put your answer in the comments, or if you prefer, you can hit reply and send me an email. I personally read every response.
This newsletter is meant to inspire hope as I share my own, unique journey toward healing.
Your story will look different from mine, and that's as it should be. Even though we're all on the same rock, each one of us has a unique path to follow.
I’m not a medical professional. The stories, insights, and advice I share are just that - stories, insights, and advice. They're not a substitute for professional help.
If you're struggling, please consult a qualified healthcare professional, or call the National Crisis Line at 988.
Please do not ignore your mental health — your life is too valuable.