I spent the year after my divorce traveling to 20 countries. It helped me heal and fall back in love.

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.

Finding my feet in Myanmar and South America

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.

Being alone helped me heal

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 alive again. I rode camels in the desert of Doha, smiling for what felt like the first time in weeks.

On the next leg of my journey, I started to find some of my spunk again. I traveled to Australia and spent days wine tasting in Yarra Valley and bar-hopping all night in Melbourne. I was laughing again. I let myself have a one-night stand with a chef I just met — and enjoyed every second of it.

From there, I hopped from Melbourne to LA to Hong Kong, where I found myself with multiple dinner reservations and not a single person to dine with. To avoid another night alone, I found a match on Bumble. Eager to enjoy a free meal at a 4-star Michelin restaurant in Hong Kong, he joined for another whirlwind date.

He was charming, an expat from England who helped fill the void of being alone. It was the first and only time I “Bumbled abroad.” After this, I met an Australian during a trip across Bali and Lombok. At the end of the trip, we were determined to make it work and said our tearful goodbyes. It didn’t last.

I realized that I needed to focus on myself. Why was I so scared of being alone? As a writer living paycheck to paycheck without health insurance, I couldn’t afford therapy. Instead, I hopped on another plane. This time to Iceland.

Finding my fearlessness in Greenland

On an expedition cruise through Greenland, I was inspired by some of the older writers I met. They weren’t just accomplished journalists, either; they were strong, powerful, and single women whose worth was based on their careers and accomplishments.

Their wisdom, coupled with the landscapes of Greenland and Norway, showed me how resilient I could be. I was determined to focus on my goals and my worth outside a relationship.

After that trip, I sold stories to outlets I had always dreamed of writing for and found myself with more back-to-back adventures to finish off the year.

Back in Indiana, I gave it another shot and scrolled through matches on the dating app Coffee Meets Bagel, until one guy caught my eye. The photos were cute: riding a camel in Morocco, drinking tea in Jordan, and adventuring through Japan. I thought one date couldn’t hurt, so we met up in Chicago, on my way to China for work.

It was the start of the end for me — the end of singledom.

What I Learned

I learned that heartbreak doesn’t just crack you open — it splits you wide enough to let something new and better take root. That year of travel taught me to trust myself, to say yes more, and to embrace the messiness of life.

And now, years later, as I sit beside my husband and our 6-year-old and look back on that whirlwind year, I can’t help but smile and yearn a little for the freedom I felt. Sometimes, you have to lose yourself to truly find your way.

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