Departure from the Safe, the Known, the Comfort Zone

The end of the summer is all a blur now. Packing, shopping, preparing, rinse and repeat. I stumbled through those final days of summer like a half-zombie, half-madwoman. I was anxious, slightly excited, but completely overwhelmed and unfocused. My body was tense, my thoughts were racing, and my To-Do lists were never-ending.

August 23rd came at me like a road-raging Semi Truck. I somehow avoided the initial blow and was able to numbly float through my goodbyes, my check-ins, layovers, and departures from the world as I knew it for 21 years.

It wasn't until I arrived in Copenhagen when the reality began to set in. And it wasn't until I looked up and around at my surroundings on my first walking tour of the city that the semi-truck finally hit me. When it all hit me, though, it didn't feel like 5-lane pileup car crash of life. In fact, it was like less like the bulldozing of a large truck than I thought it would be. It was a warm, butterfly-filled, choked-up, firm embrace. That's what it felt like when it all hit me. I was in Copenhagen! I was here! I had arrived.

It was that moment that I knew that this would not be the mid-life crisis I had expected. It might be life-changing and mind-altering, but certainly not a mental breakdown.

I realize now how much I needed to depart from everything I knew and was. All the baggage of pre-Copenhagen life was left behind and abandoned at customs upon my arrival here. And now it's just a reborn, sparkly-new version of me... me and Copenhagen.