A modern blondes take on shedding your skin and traveling the world.

I don’t know when it happened exactly. That itch. The kind of uncomfortableness that makes your skin crawl until you scratch it raw. The kind of discomfort that leaves the epidermis burning and you; just about mad enough to try and rip yourself out of the consumingly tight human suit.

That itch happened. Like a caterpillar reducing itself down to goo, just for a chance to be something different, something beautiful, something… FREE. My wanderlust just appeared one day, no mouth but speaking volumes to my soul. Should I die, and rest assured it will happen, and I had to relive only my happiest moments… my “heaven” would be a small loop of weekends stuck in a house reading a book. Not that a version of that would be extremely terrible, unless said book was, “The House of Seven Gables” which I still haven’t managed to complete. Anyways. I decided I needed to start living. In a way more than just work, nourishment, hydration and chilling with my people. So I did.

I quite literally shed my skin. I left 178 pounds of myself back at his apartment and managed to lose another 115 pounds of myself for my daughter and for my health. I started my wandering small, baby steps; tentative and unsure of what life truly was, considering it was normally just a coping mechanism from a place of trauma and insecurity. A distraught, lost soul looking to fill the void that I had compiled while losing myself to what I like to refer to as “Winter Sandy”.

So, I started small. A few hours of an adventure with my little. Horseback riding, day trips to historic houses, seeking out escape rooms. Which certainly fit my needs. Escape. Eventually we started to do overnight trips. Not too far from home because I’m extremely geographically challenged! No word of a lie, I still GPS around my hometown. Hey! We all have weaknesses… directions, mathing, blood, remembering names and faces are just a few of mine! However, with the overnights came a slow creeping desire for exploration, the whisper of adventure niggling in the back of my mind. The idea that there might be something different, unexplored, unseen or undiscovered by me.

My eyes began to open, much like a newborn coming forth from the monochrome peaches of the womb; into the stark fluorescent lights of the delivery room. Blinding yet exciting, busy, burning the corneas to the point of tears. My existence began to shine just a little bit brighter, like driving down a dark, unlit road when the headlights momentarily catch the prismatic color of a reflector in a tree, just briefly, but enough to hold your attention, make you aware, make you pause… making you see just a little bit of light in the darkness. Trust me when I say, my soul is full of darkness. The kind that is musty smelling and lukewarm. The kind that could easily pull you under with a salty kiss and the empty promises of weightlessness. Pacified only when I truly started to explore the wonders around me.

Everything begins to flow from the desire to experience other cultures. The food, the smells, the architecture, the people, the music and the sounds. It’s like intense multiple orgasms for your soul, only you don’t need to make it breakfast in the morning. If you’re that type of girl, that is. I love me some new experiences. I thrive. I shed.

The moral of the post? Don’t make your “Heaven” sitting on a couch watching reruns of crappy shows. Life is too short for such low levels of existing. Explore. Live. Thrive. Make memories that leave you tingling with pleasure, the pleasure you make for yourself. Make your “Heaven” someplace you can LIVE and if you’re one of the lucky 1% of the population it may even be with your forever person. The one who brings more value to your experiences just by being.

May the odds be ever in your favor, regarding the big L,

CR