My prayer routine unravels every trip

I used to pray fajr in the courtyard back home in Kabul, the cold bricks holding a kind of steadiness. Now I live out of a suitcase. Flights, red-eye calls, security lines, I tell myself I will catch a prayer between meetings or make it up when I get home. Weeks pass and my Notes app is full of a qada list I never clear. When I try to steal prayers on a layover it feels frantic and hollow; when I delay, guilt sits like luggage I can never lift. I am torn: do I force a scattered prayer life on the road and risk burning out, or accept the growing qada and protect the rest of my life and sanity? Has anyone lived this and found a way through?