Did I accidentally divorce my life?

I started writing this when I returned from Vermont two weeks ago. But my weepy retelling and giant stress and big feelings resulted in this instead. It quickly became one of my most popular posts. What can I say, the people love a flip out and feeling less alone.

But this. Back to wrapping this up. Back to what I started here.

Halfway through June I returned—I almost wrote “home”. Vermont is no longer my home, if this trip proved anything it’s that—because of a long-ago-offered but still utterly unaffordable trip.

It was a trip not a vacation, the difference being that one is labor, full of obligations, and just takes you from one place to another; the other is an escape from the stress and strain of your regular life, a release from the grind.

Months ago, when I originally put this trip on the calendar, it actually was intended to be a vacation. But that’s before I knew how poorly things would go work-wise, how broke I’d be by the time this travel rolled around, and how not ready I’d feel to go back in general. I knew it was way too soon to return and it was.