Her travel memories – What’s in a name ?

Quite an ordinary name, if you think about it. I tried Googling it once, just to see if my blog would come up. It didn’t. I found other pages with the same or similar names. So yes—quite ordinary.
And yet, I didn’t choose it randomly.

I wanted it to reflect something. To reflect my travels, first. Because I thought that’s what I’d talk about mostly. But now, looking at my draft folder, most of the articles are about my burnout and my healing journey.

So it feels disconnected, right?
Why didn’t I change the name?

Well, practically speaking—because that’s my Instagram name too.
But more importantly, while it might seem disconnected now, it won’t be for long. By the end of this article, I think you’ll understand why.

I’ve said it several times already, and I stand by it: I started Her Travel Memories out of pain. I was hurt, lost, and unsure of what would come next—or when I’d be ready for the next stage of my life.
I needed a distraction.
But more than that—I needed to express myself.

Did you know that depressed people might lose the ability to make new memories?
Memories are rooted in feeling. But when you’re depressed, you’re often numb. You don’t feel.
You feel tired—sometimes sad for no reason—but not peace, not beauty, not joy.
Not the kinds of moments that usually become memories.

It’s not that you don’t want to. No one wants to feel sad, exhausted, and drained all the time.
It’s just that the chemicals in your brain stop working the way they should.
So everything gets messed up.
And the ability to make memories slips away.

I lived for work for a long time. I valued myself only through performance.
But feeling? I didn’t feel anything for a very long time—until my body finally shut down.

I went on trips with friends. I attended work seminars. I have photos in my camera roll to prove it.
But it’s like looking at someone else’s photo album.
You get the picture, the place, the date… but you feel nothing.
Because you weren’t there with them.
Just like I wasn’t fully there, either.

I have no real memories of those trips.
And yet—I remember my French literature class in middle school.
We talked about Proust, about how the taste of a madeleine dipped in an orange-flavoured tea could pull him back to afternoons spent with his grandmother, because she used to bake him orange-flavoured madeleines.
And that day, my teacher brought us orange juice and madeleines, so we could experience the same thing.
That moment stuck with me.
But not my later travels. Because I wasn’t feeling back then.

I started Her Travel Memories on Instagram. I wanted to rebuild myself.
To reclaim the memories behind those pictures in my phone.
I wanted to show the ugly process of burnout, depression, and healing on a platform rooted in beauty and perfection.
I wanted to show imperfection where flawless feeds are the norm.
I wanted to be messy and true in a space that only values the most polished moments in life.
I wanted to be subversive.

Well, if you’ve checked my Insta—you know I haven’t been.
Not yet.

My most honest posts are probably my portrait series—born out of pain and the fact that I could no longer recognize the person staring back at me in the mirror.
But mostly, I just reclaimed my old travel shots.
I didn’t dare talk about the burnout.

Why?
Because I didn’t know how.

I didn’t have the words yet.
Then something happened in June.
Something that made me search for the words.
And I found them.

Her Travel Memories was a film roll. But it was missing a voice.
My voice.

I was still lost, still blank, still trying—and failing—to heal.
But now? I’m healing.
I found my voice again through this blog, through these articles.
I got my story out of my body.
And I’m ready to add that voice to the film roll.
I’m going to reclaim it all.

Photography was my way of preserving moments when I couldn’t feel them.
Now that I’ve found my voice again, I can finally put those lost feelings into words—
And build an album that truly feels like mine.

Welcome to Her Travel Memories.

---