Q426

A few more months until it's time to go.

A few weeks ago, my mother asked me, gently, but with that unmistakable clarity only mothers carry, to soften my demeanor. We were not arguing. Not even debating. Just talking. And still, she saw what I had learned to hide: the nervousness, the defensiveness, the sharp edges where there used to be ease. She named it plainly, dry, short, rough.

And the truth is, she wasn’t wrong. How ironic. I was the most reserved, soft, easy going child. Who is this woman? You think you know yourself and then, you find out more.

Years of striving - of chasing stability, belonging, love, purpose - have a way of settling into the body. Searching for a job to land, a home to love, a partner to nurture, a country to claim, a community to hold… it all accumulates. Quietly. Heavily. Until one day, something small happens, something almost ordinary, and yet it reveals everything. We both stood in the same moment, equally perplexed—but only one of us instinctively thought: call the cops.

That realization stayed with me.

I had said, over a year ago, that I would leave the United States. At the time, it felt like a distant declaration, something between a dream and a deflection. But it wasn’t until I truly heard my mother, until I recognized that my instincts here had shifted from living to surviving, that the decision became real. Urgent, even.

So I chose myself.

The flights are booked. Most of them, at least. The hotels, the Airbnbs, the riads carefully chosen. I’m waiting on train schedules like a child waits for summer break, ready to secure the last pieces. I am leaving before I burn all the way down. Not in fear, but in wisdom. Not as an escape, but as a return.

This fourth quarter, I will spend four months moving across the world, slowly, intentionally, curiously. I once promised myself that after my PhD, I would take time to rediscover who I am. And somehow, I let life fill every corner of that promise. There was always something to do. Something to fix. Something to postpone myself for.

Not this time.

No long to-do lists. No “just one more thing.” I’ll begin this journey with a carry-on (and yes, we’ll see how that goes), my purse, a few books that feel like home, my camera to hold what words cannot, my iPad (I can pause my timeline but the world doesn't), and most importantly: my will to live, not just survive.

At twenty, I could not have imagined that I would one day circle the world not just in search of a better life, but in search of myself. And yet, here I am. Needing it. Craving it. Honoring it.

There is a particular kind of restlessness that comes when your spirit has already departed, but your body remains behind to tie loose ends. My life, my belongings, pieces of my becoming; they are already scattered across oceans. And still, I stay a little longer. Because adulthood, I’ve learned, is not just about freedom; it is also about stewardship. About closing chapters with care. About honoring what was, even as you reach for what will be.

It is daunting. It is exhausting. And it is necessary.

This space, this Substack, has held me through it all. Through the trials and the triumphs, the quiet doubts and the loud revelations. I have written into the unknown, and you - some familiar, some not - have met me there with encouragement, warmth, and grace. You have turned my vulnerability into something lighter, something joyful. For that, I am deeply grateful.

Though I have been quieter these past months, I feel the pull to begin again. To tell this next chapter as it unfolds. Because there is something sacred about starting over when you have the capacity to do so. I do not take that lightly. I do not take any of this for granted. I carry it all, with gratitude, with intention, with love.

So, I will see you soon. Across borders and time zones. In the UK, the Netherlands, The Gambia, Senegal, Cape Verde, Japan, China, Rwanda, Nigeria, Benin, Togo, Ghana, Côte d’Ivoire, Morocco, South Africa, Brazil… and wherever else the journey invites me.

We may still meet in English, though I might nudge you toward a little French here and there. Perhaps even a return to German (it is my dream to speak it fluently again) -who knows what this journey will awaken.

What I can promise is this: the next chapter of my life is deeply personal, and I intend to meet it fully. To step into all that calls me, and to pursue all that calls me forward. I will share what I see, what I feel, what I learn - the beauty, the complexity, the unexpected encounters (yes, even the wild ones). And I’ll be there, in conversation with you, every step of the way. For now, it’s time to dilly dally in the spring and swim into the summer.

Until Q4..

Dr. Mel

My Happy Place. See you soon.