When I took a solo road trip in a camper van, I realized I'm a lesbian. I then decided to end my marriage with my loving husband.
26.07.2023 - 09:48
/ insider.com
"You're not gay; you just hate men."
Our marriage counselor stated it so simply — like a fact laid out in plain sight for everyone to see, but me. For weeks, I couldn't get her statement out of my mind. It circled and swirled around my body like an itchy sweater I just wanted to get off me but couldn't.
My husband and I quit marriage counseling after that and decided to take some space from each other — from our marriage. It felt strange to call it a separation because we still loved each other and had no doubt we'd eventually figure it all out and come back together, stronger than ever.
I bought a newly renovated Sprinter van and booked a one-way ticket to San Diego, where I would pick the van up and take a week or two to travel the open road. Just me, myself, and that itchy sweater. What I discovered about myself on that solo trip brought my marriage to an end for good.
Traveling by myself wasn't new to me or to our marriage. Over the course of our 10-year relationship, I often booked myself a few days in a sunny location and came back refreshed and rejuvenated, ready to tackle whatever life threw at me next. My now-ex-husband was always supportive and trusted that I knew how to take care of my needs.
But suddenly I felt stuck in my home, in my marriage, in my body, in my work, and in my life. I tried to cope, I tried counseling, I tried picking up countless new hobbies, I tried medication, and then, I tried to end my life.
It didn't work. Nothing worked. And then, with multiple medications and therapy appointments scheduled twice a week, I boarded a plane to San Diego, picked up my van, and drove.
I spent the first night parked alongside the Pacific Coast Highway, overlooking the ocean. It was a sleepless night filled with equal parts excitement and fear. I was finally embarking on a journey that once only lived within the confinements of Pinterest and Instagram, but at what cost? My safety? My marriage? Both?
The next morning, I woke up to the sound of waves crashing onto the beach on one side, cars whooshing past the van on the other, and a parking ticket on my windshield. I boiled some water on the stovetop and scooped a heaping tablespoon of instant coffee into my new mug. I spent the rest of the morning journaling and reading with my door open and my feet propped up. It was perfect.
"You're not gay; you just hate men," I wrote in my journal.
There it was again — that itchy sweater.
I suppressed that itch again. A week had passed, and I was finally feeling like I was getting the hang of this van-life thing. I spent most of my days in remote locations, off the beaten path, with just enough cell service to Zoom my therapist. I spent my days journaling, reading, and doing yoga on the dirt.
Alon