Here I sit, in a cozy, Hungarian cafe, by a window offering the most picturesque view of a rainy street. I’m perfectly cold, needing only a warm flat white and a hoodie to bring me comfort. Adele, cooing in my ears, “To be loved at the highest count means to lose all the things I can’t live without…” I adore that woman. 

And I’m feeling the need to write. So, here goes it:

I crave only tears. 

Tears of celebration, joy, and sweet sadness. Tears to commemorate my resolve, vulnerability, and strength. This trip was not a whim. She was a promise. A longstanding one. A promise 7 year-old me dared me to keep. I hope I’ve made her proud. I hope I’ve shown her that I am well on the path towards embodying the woman she needs me to become. In many ways, I think I already am her. We’ll see…

I’ve done so much I didn’t think I could and I did them as though they were par for the course. Such grace. No paralyzing fear, just wonder. Embracing curiosity, not judgment. How marvelous? Nude beaches and spas, surfing, daring to wear skirts and vibrant colors, setting boundaries, riding motorcycles through busy streets, choosing myself, going on dates and only wondering, “Do I like them?” and never occupying myself with, “Do they like me?”, standing my ground, and more that I’ll keep to myself ;)

The beginning of my adventure featured a book recommendation by a beautiful stranger, “Unbound: A Woman’s Guide to Power”. With each listen, it has been a welcome companion; prompting me to challenge myself to be daring, to articulate and pursue my desires, and to name my boundaries without looming shame or guilt. Kasia Urbaniak’s words have acted as almost a sisterly push to not hold back on this trip. “To hell with ‘supposed to’ and ‘what’s proper; and ‘familiarity’ and ‘expectations!’” Asking me questions like, “If you were a bad girl, what would you no longer fear? Make a list” How spicy! Especially since I ended up doing each and every one of them. If you, man or woman, do anything…read that book.

Still, part of me can’t help feeling a little disappointed. I’d been looking forward to exploring the waterfalls of Croatia and stumbling through ancient Greek ruins but I didn’t get my chance. Finances are a hell of a thing. 

Distraught and triggered, I struggled with rage and sadness towards past employers, my childhood,… **Sigh**. Physically and mentally, this setback took its toll. My stomach succumbed to the indigestion of feelings unprocessed; my brain constantly replayed images of past pains–it was maddening. I was spiraling, this way and that, trying to get my bearings and reassure myself that I did everything that was in my control to do, that I did stand up for myself when I could have just acquiesced by laying down and taking it. I reminded myself that my past does not dictate my future. 

I’ve done phenomenally at lifting myself back up with the support of dear friends and an open mind to slowly, but surely work through the pain borne from those experiences and trust that better is on its way. Running out of money triggered the resurfacing of those traumas but, when I grounded myself, I realized that, yes, this utterly sucks, but I choose to view running out of budget for this adventure as simply an excuse to return at a later point, not an omen for more misfortune. Every glass can be half full if you let it be.

I’ve cried so many times on this journey. Some of it cathartic, some of it because of massive disappointment, some of it from joy, some of it from feeling proud of myself. This coming from a girl that couldn’t cry…for years. A girl that couldn’t feel. What does anger feel like? What does disappointment feel like? She didn’t know. Not really. She couldn’t pinpoint where in her body her emotions brewed and demanded to be heard. She was numb. She intellectualized her feelings. Her generalized anxiety ruled her. And her body had had enough. One sign of inner turmoil after the next, starting with a stomach-eating parasite to a PMDD diagnosis, sleepless nights, and disordered eating. The barrage was all-consuming. Only her natural disposition for joy kept her afloat but, even that wavered.

I can’t give all of the credit for my massive progress in healing to this adventure. A lot of it also came from the hard work I’ve done in therapy. From the years I’ve put in to truly try embracing vulnerability and practice self-compassion and distance myself from the people, places, and things that tried to keep me tethered to who I could no longer afford to be. 

So, I’m returning home broke, but proud. 

Consider this adventure the start–the first fulfilled promise. 10 countries. 16 cities.

I can’t wait to see what I do next. Where my desires will lead me.

You’re welcome to join me.