I will begin by stating that I won’t be taking you through some spiritual journey where I find my inner child, become a vegan yoga guru and start burning incense or what have you. That’s not this story. Here you will find quite a bit of swearing, crying, alcohol and meat. I do live in Germany, after all.
I will say, however, that I am not the same woman I was when I left that house in Cleveland, Ohio.
I embarked on this odyssey in late 2015, emotionally beaten and heartbroken in the rubble of what was once a very happy life. As I got to my feet and dusted myself off, I gathered my thoughts and entered the beginning of a lonely recovery, really having no idea what I was doing or what to expect.
What came next was a series of events I could in no way have predicted. Even with my careful research, planning and logistics, I somehow managed to break away from my diligence to do a lot of things I shouldn’t have. If I were to use an anaology for this undertaking, it would be like taking a roadtrip. Like cruising down a smooth, orderly four lane highway with clearly marked signs through which your trusty GPS could effortlessly guide you – and making a sudden, sharp jerk of the steering wheel, veering off into the embankment, dodging trees as you bump along through the untouched terrain before skidding onto some gravel road, and then having to find your way from there.
That said, I would both caution you against doing such an insane thing to your life and highly recommend it.