Two initial thoughts, from an internet cafe:
Getting ready to leave -- shopping, packing, taking care of the animals, closing up the house, making sure the car was ready, checking off the lists -- I had an insight. Through my 20s I really dug traveling. Hopped around the country and world with not much money and loved nothing better than packing my duffle and ending up in an unknown city and finding my way around.
In my 30s, leaving for vacations began to bring on anxiety attacks. I would get nervous and flaky and forget important things and feel stupid. I wondered what had happened to that happy-go-lucky traveler. I thought my best traveling days might be over.
Sunday morning, I felt great: calm, happy, secure, happy to hit the road. Then the ex stopped by to get the dog, made some off-hand comment about something I wasn't doing right and I suddenly felt that tightness in my chest and immediately recognized it for what it was. It wasn't my anxiety. It was his. rrrrrr ....
On the other hand, once at the beach and happily flopping about in the wild waves last night, I thought kindly of him. We did have lots of fun vacations, once we got where we were going. In fact, those are probably our best memories. So, for the good times we had, I rejoice.
And for the awareness that my best traveling days are not in my past, I rejoice even more.