So I sold my stuff, filled a backpack, and took off on a solo trip. That turned into three years wandering the world as a freelance writer.
On my travels, I came face to face with it all: my worries, my anxiety, my inner critic, my self.
Away from the familiar, I rediscovered who I was, what mattered most to me, and how I wanted to serve.
It wasn’t pretty. It felt icky as I unpacked every part of me.