There’s a moment many frequent travelers recognize: the trip that should feel exciting starts to feel like endurance. Not because the destination is “bad,” but because your body is quietly keeping score.
Sleep debt, overstimulation, constant movement, friction, pressure to maximize.
Below are five first-person stories from travelers who hit that wall, and the single rule that changed how they travel afterward.
The rules, at a glance
- Dana Yao: International trips start with adjustment, not highlights.
- Johan Siggesson: If it’s not restful, it’s not sustainable.
- Elizabeth Mateer: Don’t abandon yourself in the hard moments.
- Bernadine Cruz: What you can control should work for you, not against you.
- Jamie Warwick: Movement is optional; rest is not.
Dana Yao – Japan, day four: My itinerary didn’t care that I was jet-lagged.
Co-Founder, Dana Yao Media
The trip that burned me out was our first trip back to Japan after we stopped living there.
When Japan was home, traveling there always felt exciting and energizing. So when we went back as visitors, we planned a super packed 2.5-week trip, thinking we could do it all: places we didn’t go before, new restaurants and activities, and day trips to explore new areas. I didn’t want to miss out on anything.
The turning point came about 3 or 4 days in. We were still jet-lagged because I hadn’t planned in any recovery time, and suddenly we were walking about 25,000 steps a day after months of a much more sedentary life in the US.
By 8 pm, I was collapsing the moment we got back to the hotel. My whole body hurt, especially my back and feet. Despite the exhaustion, I kept pushing because my itinerary said we should. Quickly I realized that I was burned out and just not excited anymore.
So learning from that trip, the rule I travel by now is: if it’s international travel, the first couple of days are for adjusting and settling in, not hitting as many places as possible. We also limit each day to 1-2 major highlights and let the rest be open so we could have the room to be spontaneous and explore in the moment.
The signal: Exhaustion that didn’t reset overnight + body pain + “not excited anymore.”
The rule now: If it’s international travel, the first couple of days are for adjusting and settling in, not hitting as many places as possible.
What changed: She limits most days to 1–2 major highlights, leaving space to be spontaneous instead of constantly catching up to the itinerary.
Johan Siggesson – Uganda: I missed gorillas because I’d emptied the tank.
Traveling Photographer & Owner, Johan Siggesson Photography
I was in the middle of a multi-stop journey through East Africa, capturing the seasonal shifts of the wildlife. I experienced wonderful photography opportunities- golden light, elephants at dawn. My body was telling me to slow down, sleep, and relax.
I was doing sunrise safaris and editing marathons at night, and thought I was doing the smartest thing by maximizing my time. I started waking up with a deep sense of dread, and the excitement behind the camera started to fade.
I was still in Uganda when I reached my breaking point. I missed a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to encounter gorillas because I was too worn out to go. I sat in my tent and lost the battle. The moment was both tough and clear.
My rule now: If it’s not restful, it’s not sustainable.
I always take the first 24 hours slowly. I don’t take pictures, and I don’t do excursions. I check in and walk around quietly, and let the place greet me instead of the other way around.
The first time I exercised that rule was in the Faroe Islands. I allowed the wind and silence do the work of transition, and I, for the first time in a long time, did not feel like I was “working” while traveling.
The signal: Waking dread + emotional flatness + fading excitement
The rule now: If it’s not restful, it’s not sustainable.
What changed: He protects the first 24 hours: no photos, no excursions. He checks in, walks around quietly, and lets the place “greet” him before he starts extracting experiences from it.
Elizabeth Mateer – Antarctica + Kilimanjaro: Solo can mean fear with no one to lean on.
PhD, Neuropsychology fellow at Harvard Medical School
Travel burned me out the first time I realized that “solo” doesn’t just mean independence: it can mean fear, discomfort, and having no one to lean on at the moment.
For me, it happened twice in ways I still remember vividly. The first was crossing the Drake Passage on the way to Antarctica. I was alone in a cabin, violently seasick, listening to waves slam the ship and feeling the floor tilt under me like it had a mind of its own. No cell service. No exit. Just the thought: I made a mistake. I chose this. I’m stuck.
The second was Kilimanjaro. I climbed “solo” (with a guide, but socially alone), and summit night hit after a day of altitude sickness. It was midnight, freezing, and I had this quiet, seductive thought: I don’t have to do this. If I turn around, no one will know. That’s the turning point: when travel stops being inspiring and starts feeling like endurance.
My body’s signals were clear: nausea, poor sleep, irritability, and a kind of anxious tunnel vision, like my world shrank to “get through the next hour.”
The rule I travel by now: Don’t abandon yourself in the hard moment
The ritual that changed everything is simple: I stop fighting the experience and start supporting my nervous system: warmth, water/electrolytes, slow breathing, and one tiny goal at a time (“get dressed,” “walk to that rock,” “eat two bites”).
In less intense situations, it usually just comes down to having a snack. I remind myself: fear and aloneness often show up right before something incredible.
I don’t regret either trip. Pushing through gave me empowerment I still draw on and friendships from both journeys that I still have today.
The signal: Nausea + poor sleep + irritability + anxious tunnel vision (“get through the next hour”)
The rule now: Don’t abandon yourself in the hard moment.
What changed: She stopped fighting the experience and started supporting her nervous system: warmth, electrolytes, slow breathing, and one tiny goal at a time—“get dressed,” “walk to that rock,” “eat two bites.” In less intense situations, the same principle often looks like something small (a snack, water, a pause) before the spiral starts.
Bernadine Cruz – China: The friction was the burnout.
Founder, Conmigo Travel Bags
I thought I was a good traveler until I flew to China.
11 ½ hours in economy class will teach you things about your body and soul you never wanted to know. It was somewhere over the Pacific, after a night of brain-numbing sleeplessness and a snoring, flatulent seatmate, knees jammed into the seat in front of me, and a back that felt twice its age, I knew I was going to lose my mind before I even landed.
Then came China. It hit me like a great wall (pun intended). Crowds, noise, and the constant anxiety of pickpockets. Halfway through what should have been a once-in-a-lifetime trip, I was frustrated and exhausted.
My everyday carry was a black hole. I could never find my phone when I wanted to take a photo. My passport and money were always buried. The fanny pack I thought would solve everything was useless.
My carry-on was too big. My body and mind hurt. My patience was gone. I remember standing in another airport terminal, juggling bags, thinking, there’s got to be a better way.
My body’s signal was constant tension. Wired-but-drained. A GI tract that was not cooperating. A feeling where everything was just too much effort.
The rule I travel by now: You can’t control everything, but what you can, make it work for you and not against you. I decided to start with what I carry.
The signal: Constant tension + wired-but-drained fatigue + GI stress + everything felt like effort
The rule now: You can’t control everything, but what you can, make it work for you and not against you.
What changed: She decided to start with what she carries, reducing friction so travel isn’t a series of small, constant battles.
Jamie Warwick – Southeast Asia: I wasn’t traveling. I was managing myself.
Founder, Bangkok Driver
The point where travel burned me out wasn’t a single bad trip; it was the way I was travelling. I spent months moving through Southeast Asia with a backpack, constantly packing and unpacking, changing cities, changing rooms, and resetting my life every few days. At first, the movement felt purposeful. Over time, it became exhausting.
I’d done what you’re supposed to do. I had a round-the-world ticket and a clear itinerary, where I wanted to go, how long I’d stay, and what came next. But after a few months, that structure started to feel like work. Every move had a deadline. Every destination came with logistics and expectations. Instead of relaxing, I was managing myself.
I kept pushing the return flights back on that ticket, telling myself I just needed more time. Eventually, I stopped rescheduling and let the deadline pass. The flights expired. That moment mattered more than I realised at the time. It was the quiet end of my backpacking lifestyle.
Thailand was where this shift became clear. Standing in a room with my backpack open, I realised I was tired of handling everything I owned every few days. Tired of constant adaptation. I didn’t feel curious or energised anymore, just mentally overloaded.
The signals had been there. Light, broken sleep. Flattened mood. No enthusiasm. I felt wired but fatigued, and even simple decisions took effort. Travel, which once felt freeing, had started draining me.
The rule I travel by now is simple: movement is optional; rest is not.
What changed everything was removing pressure from arrival. No plans on day one. Stay local. Eat nearby. Sleep properly. Let the nervous system settle.
Thailand was where I stopped moving altogether. That’s when I stopped being a traveller and became an expat, not because travel ended, but because it finally became sustainable.
The signal: Broken sleep + flattened mood + decision fatigue + wired-but-tired stress
The rule now: Movement is optional; rest is not.
What changed: He removed pressure from arrival: no plans on day one, stay local, eat nearby, sleep properly, let the nervous system settle.
Tim Kroeger helps frequent travelers recover their energy, so travel fuels their life instead of draining it. Based in Bangkok, Tim reviews luxury wellness hotels and spas through a performance lens, sleep quality, nervous system downshift, movement, and what actually restores you, combining firsthand testing with expert insights from Beyond the Spa and global industry roundups.
