I was in a weird place when I decided to quit my job and take off to Rome for four months. I was beginning to feel stuck in my career as a retail store manager, and my love life just continued to be a total disaster. I wanted my writing career to take off, but I just don't know how to get started. My original plan was to go to graduate school, study English or journalism, become a serious writer, get some glam job, meet the man of my dreams, and just get on with it. But, things don't always turn out the way we think they will. And in this case, like the cartwheels I used to do when I was a little girl, my world went upside-down and then sideways.My decision to walk away from a successful seven and a half year job as a store manager with Pier 1 Imports wasn't too difficult. I liked the company, but was tired of the long work hours and having to give up almost every Saturday of my life for work. I was just experiencing burnout and it was time to move on. I worked to save up the money for the trip for almost a year (I was living with parents at the time) and then turned in my two-weeks notice. It was a shock to walk out of my store on the last day. It was even more shocking how quickly I moved on.
I had already booked my flight, rented an apartment in Rome, and found three volunteer projects to participate in when I arrived--just to make sure that I wouldn't spend four months in loneliness and cross-cultural isolation. I enjoyed my last bon voyage party, said good-bye to my friends, and headed for Rome. I sat on the plane with my plastic cup of wine and realized that I had no idea what would happen next with my life. Would I find a job in the writing industry? Would it be in Europe or the US...or somewhere else? Most importantly, would I fall in love with an Italian? Or maybe it would be an American living overseas? Would I ever marry and have children? Or would I just live like a vagabond---packing my suitcase and seeing the world---the single writer who just walked away from everything to lead the glamorous life of a gypsy? My next stop was Termini, Rome's train station, and I had no plan, no goal, and no agenda.
Then, I was scared. I took a deep breath, sipped my wine, and braced myself for the whirlwind of experiences that were coming next....
