ICELAND: The Trip That Changed Everything
After coming off a divorce, multiple surgeries, and being diagnosed with several chronic illnesses, I was just… devastated. Alone. Hopeless. Everything felt like too much. I knew deep down I needed to do something—something just for me. Something that brings me joy.
And for me, that always comes back to two things: travel and photography. Being in nature. Feeling small under a big sky. Finding peace in the wild.
But let’s be real—because of my health, I hadn’t been traveling nearly as much as I wanted to, especially internationally. I craved adventure. I felt my body getting weaker and the pain worsening, and I knew I was heading toward getting a feeding tube soon (which absolutely terrified me—but more on that in a future post). So for the sake of my mental health, I had to get out. I had to do something big. Bold. Wild. Uncomfortable.
Then I got a notification that Iceland flights dropped in price.
I stared at my phone and thought, f**k it. I’m doing it.
Booked a solo road trip across Iceland. Alone. Sick. Scared. And 1000% ready.
ICELAND: The Adventure Begins
Iceland had been on my bucket list for years, but I never thought I’d actually do it solo—let alone while managing chronic illness. But guess what? I proved myself wrong.
Got off the plane, rented a little car (my brave little sedan), and hit the ground running. First stop? Snorkeling Silfra. Yep. Snorkeling in glacial water between two tectonic plates. Crystal clear water. Cold as hell. And you can literally drink it while you swim (which I did, thank you very much). Pro tip though: maybe don’t go snorkeling while severely jetlagged. Learned that lesson real quick.
After that, it was all about the waterfalls. Every single one felt like a dream. And since my body doesn’t believe in sleep, I got to most places before the crowds. Just me, my camera, and the thundering roar of falling water. It felt like the world stood still for me in those moments. I felt tiny, and weirdly... peaceful. Humbled.
Driving Through Ten Planets
Driving in Iceland? Surprisingly easy. One road, endless magic. But the landscape? Absolutely wild. One second you’re surrounded by icy glaciers that feel like Alaska, the next you’re looking at green cliffs like Hawaii, then bam—you’re on Mars with volcanic rocks and steam vents.
But I won’t lie—my body was struggling. I was in a major flare-up, constantly in pain, needing to pull over and rest more than I’d like to admit. It was humbling watching my body slow down, realizing I can’t travel the way I used to… and that’s okay. I’m learning to adapt. To go slower. To savor.
Not everything is about getting the shot. Sometimes it’s about just being present.
White-Knuckling Through a Mountain
Solo travel also reminded me just how freaking strong I am.
I had to take care of myself when I was sick, exhausted, and overwhelmed. I had to figure out how to get places, how to solve problems, how to survive when things went sideways—like the time Google Maps decided to take me through a mountain. Not around. THROUGH. In thick fog. On a steep, rocky trail. In my little sedan. With no cell service.
I white-knuckled the steering wheel, dodging potholes and praying I didn’t blow a tire or slide off a cliff. Pretty sure I traumatized every truck driver that saw me climbing that mountain. But somehow, I made it through. And when I finally hit flat ground, I sat there shaking and thought, Damn. I did that.
Finding Healing in the Wild
Another beautiful surprise? I realized I like my own company. I actually felt... free.
I danced in a Viking village alone, blasting Viking music from my phone. I turned disappointment into joy—when plans didn’t go my way, I had an impromptu dance party on an empty Icelandic beach instead. I soaked in the coolest hot springs, letting the geothermal warmth ease my aching body while chatting with kind, curious people from around the world. Those simple, human moments brought me so much peace.
Spending that time alone helped me process a lot—grief, heartbreak, and pain I had buried deep. Iceland helped me breathe again.
The Takeaway
This trip reminded me that I am a badass. I can do hard things. I can travel solo, even while chronically ill. Even when it means puking, rallying, limping, taking a million breaks, and eating only two hot meals the entire trip. I still made it magical.
I saw icebergs, glaciers, and finally—humpback whales and orcas up close (dream come true). I got to witness raw, untouched beauty that will forever live in my memory.
You are more capable than you think.
You don’t need someone by your side to have the time of your life.
You can travel while sick. It’ll look different—but you can adapt. You can still find joy.
You don’t need someone by your side to have the time of your life.
You can travel while sick. It’ll look different—but you can adapt. You can still find joy.
Iceland didn’t fix everything. But it kickstarted my healing. It reminded me who I am:
A traveler. A photographer. A fighter. A woman who makes her own damn magic.
A traveler. A photographer. A fighter. A woman who makes her own damn magic.
And this?
This is just the beginning.
This is just the beginning.
