At this point in my life, I'm comfortable doing all sorts of stuff just me, myself, and I, and sometimes Frankie. I hardly even think twice about most of it. I know pretty well what my limits are and how far I can push myself.
Hiking and roadtrips with the doggo? A movie matinee? Eating out? Sure, why not?
Longer trips without said doggo? Parties and networking? Camping? Eh, not so much.
What keeps me from doing certain things by myself naturally depends on the activity. When it comes to camping specifically, my active imagination plays a huge role in keeping me home or in a hotel/motel. Thinking about sinister people, hungry wild animals, breaking my arm, or whatever fantastical scenario that flashes through my head freaks me out safely tucked in bed, so how was I ever going to do it for real out there?
I read some articles specifically by women about women camping alone to try to ease my mind and find some pearls of wisdom. I tried to think about things rationally. I'm doing all sorts of other stuff alone. Why should camping be any different?
I think a big part of it starts in our culture. Being alone is something to be avoided. Something to be ashamed of. Humans are social animals after all and are better off with other people, right?
American society tells us there's something wrong with us when we are alone. Just think of all the stereotypes and tv/movie scenes about the sad-sack eating out by themselves or the crazy old man who lives by himself. Do I even need to mention spinsters and cat ladies?