It is January 2020. I am driving around the country, ​s​tarting in New York. From there, I’ll drive ​s​outh, then west, then up and back east, possibly through Canada.

Several people have told me that this trip is adventurous, and that I’m brave. I don’t feel that way. To me it just feels necessary. It is the natural next step. Anyone in my position would do the same, which feels true about everything I do​. Maybe it is true for everything everyone does.

Six months before this I moved to Virginia’s Eastern Shore​. It is full of untouched beauty, miles of marshes and beaches and remote barrier islands. It is so far away from the world.

To get to the farm where I live​d, you have to go off the main road, down a long dirt road that is unnavigable after it rains​ in my little Corolla, then through a gate that you have to open manually. And then you are there. There is nowhere to go, nowhere to meet people, nowhere to do silks or yoga or go read. But we can paddleboard in our backyard; we eat shrimp and crabs and fish straight from the Chesapeake Bay.

On paper, it doesn’t make sense how desperately ​unhappy I am here. I don’t think ​C​. understands that I can’t stay. So I’m leaving.

With no clear place to go, I decide to go everywhere – around the country, stay​ing with friends, find new places. Maybe find a home.

I think about that time often—how I was searching for belonging, and how writing became the only way I could make sense of it.

If you’ve ever felt that same pull to find meaning in the places you’ve been, you’re invited to join The Memoir Circle—a six-month group for women writing their life stories. It starts in January.

Fill out the form below to apply.

I’m Kimberly, ghostwriter & book coach who specializes in memoir with themes of relationships, spirituality, and mental health.