Introduction

When I was nineteen, I ran away. Not in the romanticized way we read about in books or see in movies. I did not dramatically pack my bags in the middle of the night, rain pouring down on me as I left the house with all of my belongings, aiming for a better life. No, in my case, it was a normal afternoon in March when I said goodbye to my loved ones to finally leave my home country for my first big adventure abroad, something that I had quite thoroughly planned, something that I had dreamed of since I was 14, and that, in my eyes, was finally coming true. I was excited, a young woman who longed to see the world, who wanted to discover, to immerse herself in new cultures, habits, and ways of living. Little did I know back then, that this departure was the beginning of an escape that I couldn’t even fathom the complexity of, an escape from ties and routines, an escape from the habits of my old life, an escape from all the ones that surrounded me, but mainly, an escape from myself.

I remember my first months in Canada. Soaking it all in, the newness, the breathtaking depth of the fjord nearby, the impressive woodlands around me, the beauty of all the seasons with their bright colors, and the new encounters with people whose culture was entirely new to me. It was like stepping into new shoes, excited about how far they would bring you, once you had learned how to walk. It was like all my life, my lungs were aching for the freezing winter air, it was like autumn had never been so remarkable before, as if every leaf I turned held another story that excited me more than anything else I had ever seen. The people that surrounded me were kind and open, a family that welcomed me with open arms, children that saw the sun at every moment and every opportunity to look for it, people who had seen the world, and were drawn to laughter and freedom, just like I was. I felt like home.

This reality was refreshing to me, it gave me a long-lost Dopamine rush I had forgotten the sensation of over the past years. Was this happiness, finally? I asked myself, as I drove down the road beside the river, seeing the sun’s reflection in my rearview mirror as I stopped at the traffic light that always turned red for some reason. Back then, I told myself, that it would turn red as a way of reminding us to acknowledge the remarkable beauty that surrounds us, embracing it fully, even within daily mundane moments.

Writing this, I am still surprised by my sense of positivity. Every day was a new possibility for me to discover, to be free, to live the life I’ve longed for so long. I was struck by the excitement that rushed through my body, like something I had never experienced before. I believed that I had finally arrived and that happiness was on my side now. I had reached the state that I wanted to reach, free from all sorrow and negativity, free from worry and anger, free from people telling me what to do, and who to be. I

Devastatingly, this fairytale-like state of being was temporary. Looking back, it has only encompassed a millisecond of my life, making it a rose-golden memory among everything that was yet to come.