LexTalk

  When I think about a moment in my life when I felt truly alive, you’d probably expect me to tell you about something beautiful.

A breathtaking view.

A perfect vacation.

A moment filled with laughter and people I love.

But that’s not the memory that came to me.

Mine happened behind the wheel of a car.

I was exhausted.

I was scared.

My life was packed into that car with me.

And I drove for 21 hours straight.

I was leaving Texas and heading back to Florida.

I was leaving a relationship I’d been in for about seven years.

And for the first time in a very long time…

I was heading toward myself again.

Seven Years Is a Long Time

I don’t want to tell every detail of that relationship.

Some pieces of our lives don’t need to be placed on the internet to prove they happened.

But I will say this:

It was an abusive relationship.

We were not good together.

And I’m not going to write this pretending I was some perfect version of myself throughout those seven years either.

I wasn’t.

There are things I said, ways I reacted, and versions of myself from that time that I’m not proud of.

That’s difficult to admit.

But it’s true.

When you spend enough time living in chaos, sometimes you begin responding with chaos of your own.

I didn’t like who I was becoming.

I didn’t recognize that version of myself.

And eventually, underneath all the fear and history and complicated feelings that come with spending seven years with someone…

something inside me finally said:

Enough.

The Day I Chose to Leave

There wasn’t a parade.

There wasn’t dramatic music playing in the background.

Nobody handed me a medal and told me I was brave.

I packed my car.

And I left.

That’s it.

Except…

It wasn’t just leaving.

I knew I needed to get out before it was too late.

I knew I needed to get closer to my friends and family.

I knew that whatever happened next had to be different from what I was leaving behind.

So, I pointed my car toward Florida.

And started driving.

Twenty-One Hours

I drove for approximately 21 hours straight.

I was too afraid to stop.

That’s the part of the story that still says so much without needing to explain anything else.

I just wanted distance.

Another mile.

Another town.

Another state line.

Another gas station disappearing in my rearview mirror.

Keep going.

Just keep going.

But here’s the strange part.

Mixed into all that fear was something else.

Excitement.

Because every mile wasn’t only taking me farther away from something.

It was taking me closer to something too.

My friends.

My family.

A fresh start.

A life I hadn’t met yet.

Me.

Somewhere on That Highway, Something Changed

I wish I could tell you the exact mile marker where it happened.

I can’t.

There wasn’t some giant flashing sign on the side of the interstate saying:
CONGRATULATIONS. YOUR NEW LIFE STARTS HERE.

Although honestly, that would’ve been helpful.

 
It happened slowly.

With every mile.

The farther I drove, the more I realized:
I’m actually doing this.

I left.

I’m on my way.

I don’t know what happens next.

And somehow…

that last part felt incredible.

For years, uncertainty had scared me.

That night, uncertainty felt like freedom.

I didn’t know exactly what my new life would look like.

I didn’t know who I would become.

I didn’t have everything figured out.

But for the first time in a long time, the unknown wasn’t something I was afraid of.

The unknown belonged to me.

Maybe That’s What Feeling Alive Actually Means

I used to think feeling alive was supposed to be exhilarating.

Jumping out of airplanes.

Standing on mountaintops.

Traveling somewhere breathtaking.

Doing something wild enough that your heart pounds against your chest.

But I’ve learned that sometimes feeling alive looks completely different.

Sometimes it looks like a tired woman driving down an interstate with her entire life stuffed into a car.

Sometimes freedom isn’t glamorous.

Sometimes it’s messy hair, gas-station coffee, swollen eyes, exhaustion, fear, and a GPS telling you there are still hundreds of miles left to go.

Sometimes your heart is pounding because you’re terrified…

and hopeful…

at the exact same time.

I Wasn’t Driving Toward a Perfect Life

And I think that’s important.

Leaving didn’t magically make everything easy.

I didn’t cross the Florida state line and suddenly become healed.

There were things I had to unpack that weren’t sitting in the back of my car.

There were parts of myself I had to understand.

Things I needed to forgive.

Things I needed to change.

Things I needed to learn.

Leaving wasn’t the end of the story.

It was the beginning.

And beginnings are rarely as clean and beautiful as we make them sound afterward.

But I had given myself something I desperately needed.

A chance.

A chance to become someone I liked again.

A chance to rebuild.

A chance to figure out what I wanted my life to look like.

A chance to be happy.

If I Could See Her Now…

Sometimes I think about that version of me behind the wheel.

Twenty-one hours.

Scared to stop.

Determined to keep going.

Watching mile after mile disappear behind her.

I wish I could sit in the passenger seat beside her for just a few minutes.

I’d probably let her drive because clearly she wasn’t pulling over anyway.

 
But I’d look at her and tell her:

Keep going.

Not because everything ahead is going to be perfect.

It won’t be.

There will still be heartbreak.

There will still be mistakes.

There will still be days when you wonder what in the world you’re doing.

But there will also be laughter you haven’t heard yet.

Places you haven’t seen.

People you haven’t met.

Versions of yourself you haven’t become.

There is an entire life waiting somewhere beyond this highway.

You just can’t see it yet.

The Moment I Felt Truly Alive

So, when I’m asked about the moment in my life that made me feel truly alive…

It wasn’t when I arrived in Florida.

It wasn’t when I unpacked the car.

It wasn’t even when I finally realized I was safe.

It was the drive.

It was somewhere in those 21 hours between the life I knew and the life I hadn’t met yet.

I was scared.

I was exhausted.

I had absolutely no idea what came next.

But my hands were on the steering wheel.

The road was in front of me.

And for the first time in a very long time…

I was the one deciding where I was going.

Maybe that’s why I felt so alive.

Because that was the moment I realized my life was mine again.