The more miles I wander, the more I discover the woman I was born to be. Traveling has become more than just a way to escape—it’s a way to connect with the pieces of myself that I’d forgotten or never knew existed.

My first solo trip was terrifying. I remember boarding the plane with a mix of excitement and fear, clutching my passport like a lifeline. I wasn’t just leaving behind a city; I was leaving behind old versions of myself—the ones shaped by routine, expectations, and other people’s ideas of who I should be.

That first journey, to the winding streets of Florence, was transformative. I got lost more times than I could count, but with every wrong turn, I found something new—a charming café, a hidden art gallery, or simply the confidence to navigate unfamiliar territory on my own.

Since then, I’ve wandered far and wide. The towering mountains of Patagonia taught me humility in the face of nature’s vastness. The colorful chaos of Marrakech showed me how to thrive in unpredictability. And the quiet temples of Kyoto gave me space to reflect, to just be.

Traveling isn’t just about discovering new places—it’s about discovering myself. Each destination strips away another layer of doubt, fear, or insecurity, leaving behind a woman who is more curious, resilient, and fearless than before.

The miles I wander aren’t just on a map—they’re the miles I’ve traveled within myself. And with every step, I come closer to the woman I was always meant to be.