Hodophobia: The fear that kept me grounded for years

 “Oh my God, Zul! You’re going to Paris for two press trips!” I remember my former boss exclaiming with excitement.

She wasn’t wrong to be thrilled: luxurious stays at The Peninsula and The Mandarin Oriental Lutetia, an exclusive tour of LVMH’s Helios centre, and a dreamy stroll through Schiaparelli’s exhibition at the Musee des Arts Decoratifs were among the highlights. For most magazine writers, it was a dream assignment.

I smiled, feigning excitement, but in my head, I was already spiralling.

What if I lost Wi-Fi and couldn’t reach anyone? What if I got robbed – or worse, abducted? What if the plane crashed, deadlines piled up, or I ran out of money in a city of strangers?

Fear of foreign lands

This fear didn’t come from a traumatic experience. Every trip I’ve been on has been safe, carefully planned and even pleasant, if I’m being completely honest.

However, I’ve never been able to shake off the anxiety which has quietly embedded itself in my system. I’ve avoided travel-related conversations for as long as I can remember.

I’ve backed out of quick trips to Johor Bahru with my family and dodged holidays with friends. I always had an excuse. I’d laugh along in conversations about dream getaways and digital nomad life, while a part of me silently withdrew.

How do you explain a fear of travelling in a world obsessed with wanderlust? Was it just me?

Turns out, I’m not alone. A 2025 article by Metropolitan State University of Denver RED reports that between 15 and 40 per cent of Americans experience some degree of travel-related anxiety. That’s a significant portion of just one nation, suggesting that the true global figure may be far higher.

In Singapore, the issue came into focus after the Singapore Airlines SQ321 turbulence incident last year, which sparked conversations around the fear of flying.

But not all travel anxiety is about getting on the plane. For some – myself included – it’s what comes after. What I find most unsettling are the unfamiliar routines, the absence of structure, and the quiet fear that

There’s a name for this anxiety: hodophobia.

“It’s much more than just airport jitters,” says Stephanie Chan, a clinical psychologist at Annabelle Psychology who specialises in anxiety disorders. “Hodophobia is a persistent, intense fear of travelling – so much so that it can disrupt one’s relationships, career opportunities, and even sense of identity.”

Unlike general travel anxiety, which might involve last-minute packing stress or obsessively checking flight details, hodophobia is more pervasive.

“For someone with this phobia, even hearing about travel plans can provoke immediate anxiety,” she explains. “They may avoid travel altogether, regardless of the destination or purpose.”

Interestingly, many people with hodophobia have not experienced a traumatic event that may have triggered this fear.

Stephanie adds: “It can develop gradually, especially after significant life disruptions like the Covid-19 pandemic. Travel restrictions and uncertainty shifted our relationship with movement. For some, that fear stuck.”

“There’s a cultural narrative that says ‘you only live once’, and it often equates fulfilment with far-flung adventures. That can make people feel ashamed – defective, even – for not wanting to get on a plane,” she says.

Overcoming hodophobia

 Thankfully, there’s still light at the end of the runway. Therapies like exposure and response prevention (ERP) and cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT) are among the most effective treatments for specific phobias like hodophobia.

“ERP is a form of therapy where individuals are guided to face their fears gradually in small, manageable steps,” Stephanie explains. She adds that part of this therapy involves CBT, where maladaptive thinking patterns or beliefs are corrected.

“It’s about helping the individual regain a sense of control,” Stephanie says.

“Recovery doesn’t have to mean jumping on a 12-hour flight tomorrow. It might look like acknowledging your triggers, setting boundaries, and taking small, manageable steps.”

And maybe, for now, that’s enough. I’ve started trying to be kinder to myself. I no longer pretend this fear doesn’t exist. I’ve talked to close friends about it, explaining why I sometimes hold back. Not everyone can relate – and that’s okay.

Most days, I still feel most like myself at home, grounded by the familiar routines. But on quiet nights, I sometimes reminisce about the crisp air of Paris in autumn, or the cinematic glow of Hong Kong at night.

I may not be chasing an escapade. One day, I might return to those places, or even set off to somewhere entirely new. Only this time, I am just a little braver than before.