My husband of 20 years unexpectedly asked for a divorce. Since then, I've traveled to 21 countries and my life is better than ever.
After 20 years, my husband blindsided me and said he wanted a divorce.
Facing a future I never imagined, I booked a solo trip to Belgium that ignited a new love of travel.
I've traveled to 21 countries since the divorce, embracing new adventures and discovering new joys.
"My soul is deeply unhappy. I want a divorce," he said abruptly, with no softening of the hammer he'd just dropped.
My husband of nearly 20 years dumped me unceremoniously on an otherwise unremarkable Friday evening in January. We'd spent the day together, running errands and sharing fries at lunch. Sitting down to dinner in our dining room, I'd asked whether he was OK. He'd been distant lately, but I hadn't seen this coming.
The day after he left, I was on my friend's couch sobbing until I couldn't breathe, while she rubbed my back. "What do you want your next chapter to look like?" she asked.
I didn't know what kind of music I liked, let alone how to rewrite a life whose chapters had long been written. For years, I'd let my daughter or my husband choose the soundtrack while I rode along, abandoning myself to the roles of wife and mother. When we divorced, I didn't just lose my marriage, my co-parent, my "person"; I lost the road map to the future we'd planned so diligently, together.
"I don't know," I told my friend. "I think I want to travel." But I'd never traveled alone, and I didn't know whether I was brave enough to do it as a 50-year-old single woman.
The timing was actually right
The divorce came at personal trifecta: I had no job, my daughter's enrollment in boarding school left barren the nest I'd feathered, and I was turning 50. Soon after, I returned to the workforce as a school administrator. My job anchored me.
With Thanksgiving approaching, I faced 5 ½ days alone, as my soon-to-be ex-husband had our daughter for the holiday. Hands shaking, I booked a plane ticket. My destination criteria: flight time under eight hours and $700 and a country I hadn't visited. I flew to Belgium.
In Brussels, I wandered cobblestone streets bedecked with hanging greens and Christmas lights, watching as workers erected a huge tree at La Grand-Place. I sampled buttery chocolate from artisanal shops and salty frites from stands whose windows opened to the street. I day-tripped to Bruges and took a self-guided walking tour along the charming canals. As I wandered, a veil of contentment draped itself over the ache of this lonely holiday.
A new year, a new adventure
The following Thanksgiving, alone again and with the same criteria, I traveled to Portugal. On a food tour, I sampled savory salt cod mixed with mashed potatoes; creamy, custardy, tarts known as pastéis de nata; and ginjinha, a sour cherry liqueur infused with cinnamon. I took trains to the Seussian Pena Palace in Sintra, and to Porto, where I learned how port wine is made. Navigating train schedules and solo dining slowly flexed a growing travel muscle.
Traveling made me feel empowered
Over time I grew braver, traveling further afield, eventually finding myself in Kathmandu, Nepal, for a writing workshop. There, among marigold leis and prayer beads, I met a community of creatives who became close friends. As we walked in meditation around the watchful eyes of Boudhanath Stupa, in step with the Tibetan Buddhists who held it sacred, I felt at peace for the first time since the breakup.
In the six years since my husband left me, I've traveled to 21 countries, and my 50s look nothing as I'd imagined they would. I've bathed in thermal baths in Budapest, floated down the Mekong River in Laos, hot-air ballooned above the otherworldly landscape of Cappadocia, and foraged for cloudberries in Finland. I've found my footing in the world, choosing adventures he wouldn't have favored. I'm grateful for my divorce. From the wreckage arose a life more robust and fulfilling than I'd ever dreamed possible.
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