From July 2025
Every time you think you know something, it changes. Something shifts.
I don’t know what this is. I thought I did. A discovery of a home. A lost place. Found in Morocco. But I’m not sure it was ever about the place. I think the place was the trigger. The space that provided the catalyst to reconnect with myself.
Maybe that’s what I’ve been searching for my whole life. My home. I’ve looked in others. Asked for guidance and permission. Validation. Fit into their ideals and their boxes. And this hierath, this longing for home that may never have existed… what if it has been a longing for me. For myself. For all of me. I know it exists. Even if I can’t touch it or place it on a map.
I don’t know what I’m doing (which I know I’m supposed to stop saying) because I do know. I just don’t quite have the words to put to it. Or more accurately, I don’t have words that fit nicely into the language of society. Just that I’m following my intuition like it’s a map from the gods. Because I think it is.
I met a woman today. She was amazing. And we needed to meet. I feel like I’m floundering and floating. Free falling with this as Jacque keeps saying. And I’m half terrified, half trusting. But I still keep one foot in front of the other, even if I can’t see the path. Because I’ve heard the only way we can see the path clearly in front of us is if we’re on someone else’s path. So here I am, with machete in hand bushwhacking my way through. And she was like a signpost. She needed my story today. It helped her see light in her own life. And through that I felt so seen. For real. Not as this brave adventurer that people seem to label me as, but as me.
Someone making the choice to try something else. Because you’ve reached a point where everything you’ve lived no longer exists. Not because you want an adventure. Not because it feels glamorous or “insta worthy.” But because everything you’ve known until this point has burned to the ground. And because there is light. You can feel it…in this dark place, and you know your only option is to follow it. Everyone says it’s brave…but I don’t see it that way. I don’t see another choice.
And also, maybe that’s the bravery…acknowledging that perhaps there is a choice…to hear it and follow it, or to hear it and ignore it. I’ve spent months and months vacillating between the two. Knowing I must listen, and yet not giving myself permission to do so.
Recently, in my apartment in Marrakech…the first place that was mine alone for over two years, even if just for some weeks, I had an epiphany. I had been working with a coach, and she asked me what I’m most afraid of. I said that I would take this time in Morocco, alone for almost three months and still not know what I want to do. It seemed like the answer.
But underneath was more. It hit me. I am scared I am not going to allow myself to want what I want. Because I know what I want …and that is to be in Morocco. I’m afraid I’m not going to ever allow myself to want what I want. Because it’s not “normal,” it’s not what I “should” be doing. But also, I have all these quotes I type over and over…. “One life. Just one. Why aren’t we running like we are on fire towards our wildest dreams?” Because it’s terrifying. And maybe that’s it. Not that we don’t know what we want., but that we’re afraid to let ourselves want it.
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