So, I’m Really Doing This!

I made a bold choice: instead of searching for a new apartment and job, I decided to hit the open road. This decision didn’t come lightly. After a soul-crushing divorce that consumed years of my life, I found myself adrift in a town that no longer felt like home. Despite living there longer than anywhere else, it was his town, not mine. When my lease ended and no job prospects could be found, I faced an unsettling truth: I had no clear sense of where I belonged.

Rather than succumb to despair, I chose to redefine my situation. Could I be homeless by choice? Could I trade stability for the uncertainty of travel? In just over a month, I had to decide. I began mentally categorizing my life into three lists: essentials, items to sell or give away, and belongings for storage. Practical preparations soon took shape: renting a storage unit in a new town, boxing up memories, and organizing a garage sale with a friend’s help.

As I busied myself with logistics, the emotional weight of my decision began to sink in. One poignant moment came when a friend visited to help pack; instead, I found myself sobbing in her lap, overwhelmed by the enormity of leaving everything behind. Amidst these waves of emotion, I swung between moments of resolve and bouts of deep uncertainty.

Friends and family offered mixed reactions—envy for my freedom or worry for my safety. I understood their concerns; after all, their love and protectiveness were palpable. Yet, their worries grated on me. One friend even confessed a desire to shield me from any future pain by putting me in a safe little box. An impulse born of deep care but contrary to the life I envisioned.

I reflected on how many people, after great heartbreak, retreat into safe, small lives to avoid further hurt. But that’s not the life I want. I want a life of boundless experiences, adventures that stir my soul, and discoveries that reshape my perspective. Yes, this choice exposes me to potential hurt, but I’ve already survived pain beyond measure. Perhaps my heart can’t break any more than it already has.

The final day of packing rushed by: apartment cleaned, repairs made, and my teardrop trailer “Ruthie” loaded to the brim. With my faithful companion Charlie by my side, we hit the road. The stereo blared a playlist aptly named “Country Slow Dance Jamboree,” a soundtrack to my leap into the unknown.

Many say they would do the same if circumstances allowed, but I challenge you to consider the cost: what you might gave to lose to actually have this circumstance come to fruition, the fears to face, and the opposition from well-meaning loved ones. For me, the emotional manageability lies in knowing there’s an end date to this initial journey. With an end date, however, comes a looming decision. My goal is to not let that take over my process.

Until then, I choose to float—free.

I have heard that if you are swimming in the ocean and get caught in a current, you do not fight to swim back to shore. 1st – don’t panic. 2nd – Don’t fight the current. 3rd – Swim parallel to the shore, AKA go with the flow. 4th – Float to conserve energy. And 5th- Signal for help if needed.

This is the strategy I will be employing on the journey —a journey not just across landscapes, but into the depths of my own resilience and discovery.