I spent the year after my divorce traveling to 20 countries. It helped me heal and fall back in love.
17.01.2025 - 00:15
/ insider.com
It was a hot afternoon in Ho Chi Minh City. I was sitting on the edge of the hotel bed, scrolling through Instagram, about to go ham on a piping hot bowl of phở when I got a buzz. A text from my then-husband flashing six words nobody wants to read: "I think we need to talk."
On that September day in 2016, when I realized my marriage was over, I had no time to grieve. I was in Vietnam, about to embark on an eight-day reporting assignment. I called my parents and asked if they could meet me in Charleston after the trip.
My parents and best friend helped me move out of the house I had shared with my husband for almost 10 years. It took two days to box up nine years of memories. With no place to live and no grasp on the person I was anymore, I did the only thing I could think of: I ran.
I traveled to Myanmar, Colombia, and 20 other countries in 12 months. What I thought would be a year of escapism turned into a transformative adventure.
Two days after I moved out, I was on a flight to Myanmar for a two-week hiking, biking, and rafting trip. Alongside five strangers who quickly felt like family, my journey to finding myself again began. I found solace in the golden glow of Shwedagon Pagoda at sunset. I laughed while sipping cheap beers in small village restaurants during our bike ride from Mandalay to Meiktila.
I was too tired every night to think, dwell, or feel much of anything. Every morning I woke up, I felt a little more like myself.
During the two weeks I spent back home for Thanksgiving, reliving the divorce by having to tell my entire family what happened, I found myself jumping into the online dating scene.
I met one man online, based in the US, and we stayed in touch after I left to travel around South America. We talked for hours on Facetime as I sat in airports awaiting flights.
After a day of trekking through the jungles of Colombia, I would re-read his text messages before bed, getting butterflies every time. After four days of sweltering heat, mosquito bites, and blisters, I felt something I hadn't felt in years: pride.
I stood atop the ancient ruins of Ciudad Perdida, soaked in sweat but glowing with triumph. And the first person I called after a much-needed shower and change out of dirty hiking clothes was him.
I was too naive to know it wouldn't last. I had such hope that we'd survive the crash into real life, with him juggling his schedule working at a hospital and me traveling from country to country without an address.
Sadly, it didn't work, and our relationship ended as quickly as it started. Following the break-up, I went on a cruise through the Middle East. I felt alone throughout the trip. I'd walk the streets of Muscat — weaving through bustling markets, looking for ways to feel