I’ve been promising my friend and fellow writer, Red Tash, to explain one day how I, an Oregonian, ended up living in London, England. So, before curiosity drives her to do something drastic, I will tell the tale. It’s honestly not that exciting. But here goes …
It was a really painful time for me. Unceremoniously dumped for another woman by a man who had professed to love me. Stuck in a foreign country where I knew no one. And all this within a short two years after escaping from an abusive marriage, the scars still fresh on my soul. It would send anyone screaming back home.
And what an adventure it has been! I have seen and experienced more of the world than I could have ever imagined. I have discovered so many wonderful things, but the most wonderful of all is that I have rediscovered myself.But there is wanderlust in my blood. A small dose, anyway, and I decided to look upon this as a Grand Adventure.
After nearly six years in this wonderful, vibrant city, I’m moving back home. I miss my town. I miss my family. I miss the lifestyle. But I’m moving back stronger, more confident, more sure of myself. I’m coming back changed. And I’m excited to start a new life in the city of my birth.
Living abroad changes you. It changes how you see the world. It changes how you see yourself. If you’re a writer, it even changes your writing. So much of my life here has made its way into my writing, into my soul.
They say that when you hit rock bottom you’ve got two ways to go: Straight up and sideways. Me, I chose straight up.