The Night I Told My Parents I Was Walking the Camino de Santiago...solo

I was sitting at the dinner table with George (my husband) when I finally said it out loud.

"I'm doing the Camino de Santiago."

Even now, I can still feel that moment in my body. The heaviness. The hesitation. The knowing that this wasn't going to land well.

Because the truth is — I had been delaying this conversation for weeks, because I already knew how they would react.

This Wasn't a Sudden Decision

The Camino de Santiago had been calling me for three years.

Suttle hints at first. Then persistently. Until it became something I couldn't ignore anymore — a pull I felt in my body before I could even explain it with words.

For a lot of women in midlife, that's exactly how it starts. Not a lightning bolt. Not a dramatic breakdown. Just an insistent voice that keeps showing up. Whispering: there is more for you than this.

But answering that call meant disrupting everything. My family. My routine. The role I had always played.

So I ignored it. For a long time, I stayed quiet.

"I Won't Be Able to Sleep Until You're Back"

When I finally said it, Mum's response was immediate.

"I won't be able to sleep at night until you're back." "What about George?"

And just like that, the weight landed.

Not concern alone — but guilt. The particular kind of guilt that only the people who love you most can produce. The kind that sits in your chest and asks: Is this selfish? Who do you think you are?

Dad was different. More practical. "Just be careful. It could be dangerous."

His words came from protection. Mum's came from fear. And somewhere in the middle of it all — was me. Feeling like I had just turned their world upside down simply by wanting something for myself.

"Letting Me Go" — The Two Words I Can't Stop Thinking About

Then came the part I didn't expect.

They couldn't believe George was "letting me go."

Letting me.

Those two words stayed with me. Because this wasn't about permission. This was about partnership. About a husband who saw something in me — even when it worried him too.

We had talked through everything. The kids. The logistics. The responsibilities. This decision wasn't reckless. It was considered, supported, and chosen.

And yet — I still felt it. That old familiar pull to shrink. To soften it. To delay it just a little longer. To make it more comfortable for everyone else.

The Moment Nobody Talks About

This is the part of following your calling that doesn't make it into the highlight reels.

Not the blisters on the Camino Francés. Not the vast, humbling silence of the Meseta. Not the tears walking into Santiago de Compostela.

It's this. The kitchen table conversation. The moment your dream collides head-on with other people's fear.

Where being a good daughter clashes with becoming your own person. Where you realise — sometimes painfully — that you can love someone deeply and still choose differently from what they want for you.

For so many women in midlife, this is where the real pilgrimage begins. Long before the boots go on. Long before the flight is booked.

It begins the moment you dare to say what you want out loud.

What Made Me Go Anyway

I kept coming back to one question.

What do I want my daughters to remember?

A mother who played it safe to keep everyone comfortable? Or a woman who listened to that voice inside her — and actually followed it?

The Camino de Santiago isn't just a 800km walk across Spain. It's a pilgrimage. A stripping back of everything that isn't you. A mirror held up to the life you've been living — and the life you're still capable of living.

I couldn't explain the pull logically. I could only feel it intuitively. And at some point, that had to be enough.

So I chose to go because something in me knew that not going would cost me far more.

What Happened After That Conversation

Things have softened since that night.

Mum and Dad are wishing me luck now. They're still worried — of course they are. There are conversations about safety, about the world, about flights and uncertainty. That's what parents do. They love you, even when they don't fully understand you.

But something has shifted. Not just in them — in me.

Because this was never just about the Camino.

This was about choosing not to play small anymore. About trusting that the women closest to me — my daughters, watching — deserve to see what it looks like when their mother chooses herself.

For the Woman Reading This

If you're holding back on something you feel called to do, because you're afraid of disappointing the people you love — I want you to sit with this:

When was the last time you chose yourself without guilt?

The path doesn't appear once everyone agrees. It doesn't appear once the timing is perfect or the fear goes away. It appears the moment you decide to take the first step — even when your hands are shaking.

You are not too late. You are not too much. And you are not wrong for wanting more.

If this resonated with you, come follow along. I share the unfiltered truth of what it looks like to stop postponing your own life — the fear, the beauty, the mess, and everything in between.

The Camino is just the beginning.

👉 Follow on YouTube for the full Camino journey
👉 Connect on Instagram for daily life, training & behind the scenes