Last year, 2025, was an awful year for me. There was no big tragedy, no devastating moment, thankfully, no deaths, so by all typical markers, everything was great. Except it wasn’t, and everything was horrible. I spent the year taking care of everyone but myself. I put everyone else’s needs before my own. I compromised too much. Gave too much. Forgot to chase my dreams. Neglected the things I needed. I slowed down so much I just stopped, and no matter how many pep talks I gave myself, I couldn’t seem to get myself going again. I felt paralyzed with indecision and fatigue, and while I am a very confident person, I seemed to have lost it all. I sobbed on the phone to one of my girlfriends that I was scared I’d lost my sparkle, but really, I was terrified that my dreams were slipping through my fingers. I could feel them leaving me, and I was acutely aware that the life I was living was not one I wanted. 

 

As nice as it was, as happy as lots of people would have been with it, it simply wasn’t enough for me.

So, I did the only thing that made sense to me, I booked a plane ticket to Egypt where my best friend lives. I messaged her to inform her we were going on a trip to the beach for New Year’s Eve, and she was to bring our other friend with her. I also told her I wanted to burn my life to the ground and within approximately 0.01 second she replied, ‘great, me too. I’ll make the arrangements, don’t ruin your life until we get there.’ It turns out, our other friend was also teetering on the edge, because apparently 2025 was an absolute basket case for everyone, and that’s how three mentally unstable women found themselves on a girl’s trip at the very start of the new year, on a faraway peninsula in the Red Sea.

We all arrived at the villa we had hired a few hours before midnight, and while it wasn’t my home, walking through the front door and into the arms of those two women was a homecoming. We ate, showered, put our dresses and heels on and went to a party where we proceeded to dance the new year in. I’ve never been happier to see the back of a year, and I screamed the countdown at the top of my lungs, my arms wrapped around my two friends, hope beginning to flicker in the embers.

A rhythm emerged for the rest of our trip. Wake up, workout, eat breakfast, go to the beach. Traditions also materialised; sundowners every day on the beach, which traditionally is drinks in a glamourous cocktail bar – apparently it’s something to do with Mick Jagger in Kenya – but for us involved grabbing the beach beanbags and sitting in a row facing west where we would watch the sun sink into the sea. Then we’d walk back to the villa, or hitch a ride from a stranger in a golf buggy, eat long dinners, talk about everything, pass the chocolate around, and cradle cups of tea long into the night. Occasionally, we’d take a moonlit walk for ice cream. 

 

It was peaceful. It was idyllic. It was calm. But what was also happening beneath the surface was the fire in me was being stoked back to life. The embers were growing stronger, the first flames starting to flicker.

Because the thing about traveling with women is they are always pushing you, reminding you of who you are, and generally acting like a one-woman cheerleading squad that's in the final quarter of a losing game and who are determined to turn it around for the team. Our workouts were filled with compliments and encouragement, each of us lending our particular strength to the others. We taught each other things, pushed each other harder, made ourselves stronger. Our beach afternoons were filled with strategizing and advice on how we could achieve our dreams. We swapped contacts and ideas, brainstormed businesses and books. Every meal was eaten with an abundance of meaningful conversations. There was no small talk, just the deepest parts of our souls, our greatest wants, and all the things we couldn’t say out loud to anyone else. 

 

And the thing about travelling with women is they see you. There’s no hiding. You sleep in the same house, eat all your meals together, go through every part of your day together, and they know who you really are. You are, therefore, afforded the opportunity to be your whole, entire self, which is all to say, you get to shine once again.

Removed from the drudgery of everyday life, and for most women, the disproportionate labour they do at home, and in relationships, you have the opportunity to exhale. To carry no one but yourself. There isn’t a school schedule or a heap of laundry. There aren’t the irritations of everyday life admin or the long to-do list. No one is asking you where the car keys or the football kit are. No one is asking you what we’re having for dinner or when it will be. 

Not because we want to get drunk and party, but because we want the space to think. To hear our own thoughts. To be around the divine and unfailing enthusiasm of the girls, in which every idea is met with excitement and a ‘yes of course you’d be amazing at that’ attitude. When you travel with women there is no disproportionate labour. The washing up, the food prep, it all gets done equally. There is no pointing out obvious tasks. They’re just done. You all exist on an even keel which sounds like a small thing, but when you’re the person back home who keeps the train on the tracks, suddenly having co-captains is a phenomenal feeling.

Above all, when you expand your world and travel, when you change your scenery, when you discover new places, you have the opportunity to become whoever you want. All the supressed, repressed or yet to be, versions of yourself. And when you’re travelling with women, they’re the first people to say yes. To cheer you on. To lift you higher. To pull you out of the hole. There is no greater driving force than the love and applause of your girlfriends. It can, in fact, save your life. Save you.

By the end of that trip, I was brand new. My chin was higher. My shoulders were snapped back once more, and the whole year, and everything I’d ever wanted, felt possible again. I went home after a week of laughter, joy, sunsets and strategizing and was finally ready to face 2026. Since then, it’s been a beautiful year. I’ve done the things I said I would do on that beach. I’ve put the right foundations in place for the other things I want. I wasn’t just recharged but remade in Egypt with those two women. All the confidence was back, restored to me under the loving and watchful gaze of my girlfriends. This year, so far, one quarter down, is a million times better than the whole of last year, and that is entirely down to the girl’s trip.

Currently, I’m 37,000 feet in the air, flying over the mountains of Sarajevo, on my way to meet the girls again. I had originally planned to go to Egypt, but one of the girls is going through it at the moment, and so of course, the only thing for us to do, was take a trip. 

We’re headed to Luxor now, because when your girl is going through it, you book the trip without question. Because while home is where the heart is, sometimes, the heart needs to be free and home won’t cut it. Sometimes, you need to be in different places. Removed from your routine and the familiar walls of your life. You need to see a different horizon, stare at a different sunset. Sometimes, you just need to throw yourself over borders and boundary lines with other women to know exactly what you’re capable of. Which is exactly why the girl’s trip is not a nice to have, it’s non-negotiable. It will, in fact, be the making of you.

 

Author, Poet, International Speaker, and Broadcaster.

Salma El-Wardany is the author of These Impossible Things, which was released to global critical acclaim in June 2022. For the last six years, she has presented on BBC Radio London, most recently, The Breakfast Show. She has just stepped down to focus on writing her second novel and the TV adaptation of her first novel. She also runs the popular Substack, Sunday Cervix. Salma is also a two-time TEDx speaker, a global keynote speaker, and she writes for publications such as The i, HuffPost, and Red Magazine. Salma’s work centers on feminism and gender, revolving around female stories to bring the often-ignored realities of women into the spotlight.

 

Email: info@salmaelwardany.com

Website: www.salmaelwardany.com

Substack: https://substack.com/@salmaelwardany