Looking back at the last year, I think I handled myself mostly with grace during this catastrophe. There were some questionable moments, sure. Like the time that I bragged to people who were friends at the time about knowing the bartenders at the local bar so well that they gave me significant discounts on my tab at the end of the night – every night. The bartenders became my friends. They knew my story. They checked up on me and supported me – with lots of booze.
Surely that wasn’t the best way to handle those first several months…but it was the only way I knew how to cope with that catastrophe. I’d often drink, because the goal was to forget what was happening in my real life. I drank (frequently in excess) because real life was much harder than any words I ever wrote in any of these blogs. Some of the things that occurred are just too difficult to share in such a public forum. Just understand, I didn’t want to exist in that life that was handed to me in those moments.
And then, one day, shortly after my ex finally moved out, my perspective began to shift. I was lucky enough to have had the support from an incredible group of strong women who both called me out and showered me with unconditional love. I began to realize that what had happened in my life was a gift. A gift of potential happiness. While I wasn’t yet experiencing true happiness, I at least began to believe I’d be happy again someday.
The universe, our energy, God, destiny…whatever you want to call it, it’s very real to me. I believe in the clichés that everything happens for a reason and that nobody is in our lives by accident.
The following is my proof.
In early July, I randomly followed a Greek photographer on Instagram. Goodness, his pictures were phenomenally exceptional. By that point, 4 months post catastrophe, I’d developed a “screw it” attitude and decided to comment on some of his pictures, even though he had thousands of followers. To my great surprise, he commented back, thanking me for the compliment.
What?! So, because I decided I’d already lost anything significant in my life and there wasn’t much else I could lose, I decided to send him a direct message through Instagram. What was the worst that was going to happen? He wouldn’t respond. Meh. I was okay with a non-response.
So, at 2:20 in the afternoon, on July 12, 2019, I wrote to Billy. I had nothing to lose.
“Hi, there! Seriously, your pictures paint a picture of places I feel drawn to… They’re all in Greece? That’s where you live?”
Exactly 40 minutes later, and to my complete and utter surprise, he responded.
“Ahh thanks so much! Some of them yes! I post mostly from Greece and Italy. I live in Greece, yup!”
At 3:31, I wrote:
“You make me what to get there ASAP. I’ve been itching to go on a trip – Greece just moved to the top of the list.”
(By the way, I’d “been itching to go on a trip” because I wanted to run away. While I’d never leave my daughter for any real stretch of time, I didn’t want to live that life for another second and just needed time away from the disaster that was currently my world.)
In true Billy form, his response was genuine:
“That’s awesome! Let me know if you need any kind of info. *smiley face*”
We went on chatting that first day, on again and off again, for another 90 minutes.
And then talked again the next day and practically every single day until I’d not only made my decision, but I purchased my tickets.
On July 16, I’d decided I was going. To Greece. To meet a perfect stranger, albeit a talented one, that I’d met randomly on social media. Kids, I don’t recommend you do this at home. *eyeroll*
On July 23, at 8:41 am, I wrote to Billy and shared a screenshot. I’d purchased my tickets to Greece.
11 days. In the span of eleven days, I’d connected with a stranger with an incredible talent -through social media – who’d become by friend after hours and hours of chatting. We’d had such an immediately strong connection that I decided to book a photography workshop with him and his business partner (whom I hadn’t even chatted with yet at this point) and was going to be flying halfway around the world and trusting he wasn’t going to scam or hurt me.
That’s the state of mind I was in. I’d been so deeply hurt that nothing would ever cut to my soul in such a manner ever again. And you know what happens when you’ve realized that? Freedom.
I was free.
Though some would say that my newfound sense of freedom led me to make some incredibly careless decisions. But sometimes, you just have to put yourself out there to see what happens. And this rash, bold decision was one I truly would’ve regretted not making.
But…I was still very much broken. Shattered. Unrecognizable for all the wrong reasons. I had no sense of self-worth. I would do almost anything for validation that I was somebody worthy of breathing in the air around me. It didn’t matter who was making me feel like I was someone or why they thought I was special.
I was looking for anything and anyone to fill me up. I craved for someone to see me in the way I was incapable of seeing myself. If “they” showed me approval, then maybe I wasn’t as worthless as I’d thought I was. As I referenced in this blog I wrote while in Greece, I was looking for others to fill my bucket, yet I never felt fulfilled. My figurative bucket was riddled with holes and no matter what I received from outsiders, it never filled me up because I’d never taken the time to patch the holes for myself.
Well, that all was going to change so quickly that it now feels like I blinked and became a whole new woman.
I left for Greece on November 14. One of my closest girlfriends didn’t think I was actually going to go through with it. I had so much anxiety leading up to the trip that I couldn’t pack – I didn’t even finish packing until the morning of the day I flew out. I was an absolute mess. I could barely breathe and cried, with the tears flowing more readily the closer the trip became. And my friend? She didn’t exhale until she knew I was safely at the airport. She kept telling herself, if she actually makes it to the airport, she’s fine, she’ll really go. She just didn’t think I’d make it. I almost didn’t.
Once I was at the airport, I sat down for a drink. And had the most incredible interaction with random strangers at the bar (this story is in the same blog referenced earlier). I had a pretty decent and very public ugly cry. And finally exhaled.
During my flights to my connections in Detroit and then Amsterdam, I started the healing process. I decided to make word art from all the positive words people used to describe me and words I wanted to use to describe myself. I also made word art from all the humiliating and derogatory words my ex had texted me. I only went back about 2 months. That was enough. As I wrote down such ugliness in such a beautiful fashion, I felt myself begin to release the tension and constant pain I’d been holding on to.
This was only the beginning.
What my trip to Greece did for me is something I’m not sure I’ll ever fully be able to describe with words. The sheer magnitude of this experience renders me speechless. And, when I really try to talk about it, I often cry. It was just so powerful.
Solo travel, especially for a woman, and especially a woman who’d been in a toxic and abusive relationship, is so empowering. To have put all my confidence into two strangers was exhilarating. To actively chase a dream that I’d never had the opportunity to pursue before was magical. This was much more than a leap of faith. It was a plunge into something so great that it was transformative. Who I was on November 14 was not the woman that came back on November 24. I could feel it to my core. Those shattered pieces that I’d actively chosen to ignore for 8 months began to piece back together into an incredible masterpiece.
As it turns out, Billy and Chris, my Greek photography teachers, are absolute geniuses. They have an ability to awaken something inside of you that you always hoped existed but never had the opportunity to explore. If you have even the tiniest desire to explore photography – and the world – do so with the Atlas Roamers. They are incredibly wise and talented and just about the two best people you could ever hope to meet. They are not only my friends, they’ve become my family.
When you spend so much uninterrupted time with the same people, in such an intimate setting (a small car was where we spent hours each day, traveling from one divinely beautiful destination to another, and then more hours in the hotel rooms, where they taught me to edit my photos), where so much blind trust is given, you can’t help but create a bond that is quite unlike any other. These two are forever my brothers and I owe them more than any amount of money could purchase.
It was while I was with them that I fell in love with myself. It was on this wild adventure that I learned I was capable, strong, and enough and no longer had anything to prove to myself anymore. This experience was so dynamic that the only thing I can say about it is to go explore the world for yourself and see how it changes you. There is nothing quite like having to put yourself in such a uniquely vulnerable state that you can’t help but grow from it.
It is because of this solo vacay that my very energy changed. I felt like I was radiating pure joy from every pore in my body. I cried to my mom on video chat on my last day in Athens. She thought it was because I was leaving the next day. But, I was finally able to get out that this experience had been life changing for me.
And not only did every fiber in my body experience a drastic transformation, I’d discovered I was actually a pretty decent photographer.
I have such a passion for photography, that I’ve started a new business, Craig’s Impressions, LLC (so if you’d like any prints of my work, I’d be happy to chat with you about it! Feel free to contact me at craigsimpressions@gmail.com).
This new passion project is another leap of faith and here’s the fascinating thing about this: I actually think I can do it! Just a few short months ago, I questioned my self-worth. I allowed others to treat me poorly because I didn’t think I was worth anything better. I excused their shitty behavior, apologizing to them for making them act that way, thinking it was because of something I did. Or perhaps they would’ve reacted differently had I not done x, y, or z.
Their rude, insulting, degrading behavior was my fault. I didn’t think I was capable of much and needed so much outward assurance to get to a point where I’d half believe it. I was faking my way through life, smiling, looking quite self-assured, all while the internal dialogue was something I would’ve smacked any friend for if I’d heard her talking to herself like that. I was living an impostor’s life.
That is, until I faced every fear, felt every negative and derogatory word ever spoken to me, honored that they were the lies, and finally started to release their power over me. And then ended up having the time of my life.
All of this happened in a span of just a few days. My entire internal world began to shake and collapse in all the best ways the second I stepped foot into the Denver airport.
So, this blog is now transitioning from processing my ex’s infidelity to my travels and newly found passion in photography – and the incredible journey that my path is now taking me on. The world I currently live in is so vastly different than the one from before 6:08 pm on March 17, 2019.
And I couldn’t be more grateful for that moment in time, for that stranger, for my ex, and for the roller coaster that this last year has been. Every single chance encounter, each and every decision – responsible or otherwise – has led me to this very second. And it is here, and now, that I am filled with a deep and wonderous love for myself. My bucket is whole and patched up, allowing it to finally be filled. And I am happy.
I do hope you stick around and follow my newest adventures in life! I’m thinking my next blog will be about my recent trip to Ireland and I cannot wait to share the adventures – and photography – from that whirlwind vacation. Until next time…
*hugs!*
A Graceful Catastrophe 