I spent the first 40 years of my life wanting to see the world but never figuring out how to make it happen. By 43, I’d mastered solo travel throughout BC and the states, venturing to the top of mountain peaks such as China Head, where I was the only person around for miles. I’d made my way to the Bahamas by myself for a few weeks to visit a friend and headed to Australia to see Kameron get married.
But for some reason, I felt the ability to travel to Rome beyond my reach. What my mental block was, I’m not sure. Was it fear of being alone in a foreign country? Was it thinking the cost was too much? Was it that I was waiting for my magic Prince Charming to arrive in his Overlanding chariot so we could take off and travel the world and experience these things?
It was the third; I’d held off for years in doing something I wanted to because I always felt those experiences should be reserved to be shared with the person you were going to share your life with. That singular vision I had held since I was 20 when I had that powerful dream of standing at a fountain in Rome with my life partner who told me never to date a man who wore runners, only proper shoes.
But in 2015, at the age of 43, three times divorced and facing the stone-hard cold truth that some humans suck. The fact is that there are genuine douchebags who don’t care if they use people or the trail of destruction they leave in their path. They feel they are entitled to use you, then dropping you and leaving you feeling like a Human Pariah until they want something again. I realized that the perfect travel partner was not out there, and all I was doing was wasting time as things were slowly being destroyed around the world.
Tickets were on sale, and I quickly located a cheap hostel for17 days in Rome for my first solo oversea adventure. Looking back, upon arrival I had the “fresh meat” look, paying way too much for the 3-minute drive from the train station to the hostel, the strange look at breakfast asking for tea instead of coffee to go with my chocolate croissant. I quickly learned next time not to waste hours in line buying my ticket for the Colosseum with the free admission to the Roman Forum instead of the other way around and saving myself 2 hours.
Rome was life-changing in how I view the world; the first Basilica I walked into brought tears to my eyes from the beauty, feeling the pain of the primates as I watched them in the zoo. Sharing intimate moments viewing the bones of the monks turn into artwork, a backstreet barber giving cuts to the homeless, the gypsies asking for change, and watching a graffiti artist make his political statement.
Humans in the first world are programmed to feel that something is not right in our lives if we don’t have someone to share intimate moments with. The world is so focused on telling us we must pair up with someone; if we do, it will give us this magical life full of intimate moments in unique places. But it’s a lie and results in broken dreams, divorces, a feeling of failure, and those that manipulate knowing they just have to make you feel like they can give you that dream to get what they want.
Only once we can release ourselves of the imaginary benefits of couples’ privilege in our psyche can we build a genuinely intimate life with ourselves. Where we understand true quiet, who we are, and choose motives that are about our wants and needs, and not trying to please others in the hope that they’ll change their life to be with us to build the imaginary life they are trying to sell us.
At the end of 2016, I finally stopped selling my soul to the dream of Prince Charming and realized I was my own MissTrix Charming. It was then when I crossed paths with Darren again, who wasn’t there to sell me a false dream or give me intimacy just long enough to pull me into the trance it does, and after a few rocky sections finally understood it works much better to just let me be me. And while we are a couple, our relationship is about supporting the other to be the best version of themselves, with no personal gain expected, but that road hasn’t been easy.
I’ll leave you with a few images as I start to work through the photos and edit them. seven years later, it’s time I finally tell the story of Rome, Romania, Cuba, Indonesia, jumping off a bridge, and the wonderful life I’ve been lucky to live.
Trix's Trax 