Tag: life

A Year Without Teaching

Published on by Millie BrittLeave a comment

I still remember the moment I knew I was leaving.

Not the exciting part. Not the new job. Not the fresh start everyone talks about.

The moment I realized I had to tell them.

My coworkers. My admin. My kids.

I remember sitting there with this constant pit in my stomach, going back and forth in my head asking myself the same question over and over again…

Am I being selfish?

Because that’s what no one really prepares you for when you leave teaching.

You don’t just leave a job, you leave people. You leave routines, relationships, little faces that looked for you every single day. You leave something that mattered in a way that’s really hard to explain unless you’ve lived it.

And I left in April.

Even now, a year later, I still feel it sometimes. That guilt didn’t just magically go away. It softened, but it never fully left. There are still moments where I think about them and wonder how they’re doing, and there’s a part of me that will probably always carry that with me.

Because I loved them. I really did.

And I think what made it so hard was trying to hold both truths at once… that I loved them deeply, and that I still needed to leave. At the time, it felt like I was constantly battling myself. One side of me knew I needed a change, needed something different, something that felt aligned with the life I was trying to build. And the other side of me felt like I was letting people down, like I was choosing myself at the expense of others.

Looking back now, I know it was the right decision.

But in that moment… it didn’t feel clear. It felt heavy. It felt emotional. It felt like I was walking away from a version of myself that I had poured everything into.

And then, in the most me way possible… I got on a plane.

Right after making that decision, Andi and I went to Norway and truly lived our best lives.

Bergen, Tromsø, Flåm… we did everything.

Dog sledding, reindeer encounters (or attacks, lol), snowshoeing through the most unreal landscapes, a sleepless night in a Lavvo (no heat), and yes… somehow spending $50 at McDonald’s.

We ate reindeer hot dogs. I know. Wild.

And it was one of those trips where you don’t even realize how much you needed it until you’re in it. It felt like I could finally breathe again. Like for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t just surviving my life… I was actually living it.

And then I came home… and taught my last week.

Starting my new job at Globus felt like stepping into a completely different life. Remote, flexible, creative… everything I thought I wanted, and honestly, everything I still love.

But what I didn’t expect was how much of an adjustment it would be.

Going from teaching, where every second of your day is accounted for, where you are constantly needed, constantly moving, constantly pouring into others… to suddenly having space. Time. Silence.

It was jarring.

I went from having no time at all to what felt like endless time, and I didn’t really know what to do with it at first. I spent a lot of time alone. More than I ever had before. And if I’m being honest, remote work can feel really lonely.

There were days I missed the chaos. The noise. The feeling of being needed in such an immediate, tangible way.

But at the same time… I think I needed that stillness more than I realized.

Because if I’m really honest with myself, 2024 was a blur.

I was traveling constantly. Every month felt like a new place, a new experience, a new escape.

And while I told myself it was adventure, and a lot of it was… I also think part of me was running.

Running from slowing down. Running from sitting with my thoughts. Running from fully processing everything I had gone through.

So when 2025 came and I didn’t travel as much, when I was forced to actually stay and be present in my life, it felt uncomfortable at first.

But now, looking back… it feels like exactly what I needed.

Like God was gently telling me to slow down.

To stay.

To build something instead of constantly escaping.

And in that stillness, something shifted.

For the first time, I started to see Chicago not just as the place I moved to on a whim… but as home.

My forever home.

Which still feels crazy to say, because four years ago I moved here completely broken. No money. No plan. Just a leap of faith and a version of myself that needed a fresh start more than anything.

I was paying $650 a month in rent in an apartment that was… let’s just say had a lot of character.

But I didn’t come here for comfort. I came here because I needed to rebuild.

Because when your life flips upside down the way mine did, when you catch the person you thought you were going to spend your life with cheating on you… something in you changes.

And for a long time, I don’t think I was okay.

I think I was healing, but in a messy, all over the place way. I think I was distracting myself. I think I was doing everything I could to avoid sitting in the pain for too long.

Therapy helped. Journaling helped. Traveling helped.

But 2025 was the first year I felt like I wasn’t just healing anymore.

I felt… happy.

Like genuinely, deeply happy in a way that didn’t feel temporary or dependent on anything outside of me.

And with that came clarity.

Not about men. Not about relationships.

About my life.

For the first time, I wasn’t focused on healing from someone else… I was focused on building something for myself. And through that, I was finally able to prioritize my relationships in a way I hadn’t before.

My family. My friends. My life.

I also met some of the most incredible women this year, and I truly don’t say that lightly.

Tawnie, Zewdi, and Ally… girls I met through Bumble BFF who turned into some of the most authentic, supportive, and inspiring people in my life.

The kind of friendships that don’t feel forced, they just fit. The kind of women who make you feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

I’m so thankful that God met me where I was and gave me a circle of friends that I genuinely trust with my life.

I spent the summer making memories that I would’ve missed in past years. Going to ABBA concerts with my parents, having my sisters visit, celebrating both of them graduating, my sister’s bachelorette in Disney… moments that used to feel rushed or squeezed in suddenly felt intentional.

And I also got to reconnect with people I love, like my college friends Bryce and Brooks, who I hadn’t seen in so long. Being able to sit with them, catch up on everything, hear what’s new in their lives, and just laugh like no time had passed… it made me realize how much I had been missing when I was so burnt out and socially drained.

For the first time in a long time, I had the energy to show up for the people I love.

And even though I left teaching… it didn’t fully leave me.

I still babysit for two kiddos, one of whom I used to teach, and honestly, it feels like such a blessing.

I still get these little snippets of what teaching was like… the chaos, the humor, the random moments that make you laugh so hard you forget everything else.

One of them always makes me my “olive tea”… literally fake olives in a teacup because she remembered it’s my favorite food.

And it’s the smallest thing, but it hits me every time.

Because it reminds me that those relationships didn’t just disappear. That impact doesn’t just go away.

It just looks different now.

And then there’s dating.

Which, if I’m being completely honest, has been one of the most emotional parts of this entire year for me.

I’ve been single for over four years now. Even longer, technically. And for a long time, I knew it wasn’t the right time for me. I had trust issues to work through, wounds to heal, and parts of myself I needed to grow before I could even think about letting someone love me again.

But this year… I finally felt ready.

And I actually tried.

I went on around 10 dates, which for me is a lot. Some were bad. Some were fun. Some turned into multiple dates. Some turned into friendships. And somehow, I even had two meet-cutes on airplanes, which still feels insane.

But what’s changed isn’t the dates… it’s me.

I’m older. I’m wiser. I’m more cautious.

I’m not the same naive 21-year-old girl who was okay with pretty much anything a guy was doing.

And if I’m being really honest, one of the hardest things I’ve had to unlearn this year is the belief that I’m too much.

Too emotional. Too expressive. Too opinionated. Too intense.

For so long, I felt like I had to shrink myself to be loved. Like I had to tone it down, ask for less, accept less, just to keep someone around.

And this year, I’ve really worked on changing that.

Because I’m not too much.

I just haven’t been with the right person.

And I don’t want to feel confused anymore. I don’t want to question where I stand. I don’t want to feel like I’m asking for too much when I’m really just asking for the bare minimum of effort, intention, and care.

I want someone who is sure about me. Someone who shows up. Someone who goes above and beyond not because I asked, but because they want to.

And even though the jury is still out… I’m okay with that.

Because I’d rather wait for something that feels right than settle for something that doesn’t.

So for anyone in their 20s feeling lonely, stuck, or scared you won’t find love… I get it. I really do.

I’ve felt that too.

But I truly believe the right kind of love is worth waiting for. The kind that sees you, values you, and never makes you feel like you have to be anything less than who you are.

There were also so many moments this year that reminded me how full life can be.

Turning 27 surrounded by my favorite people, with Andi planning the most insane speakeasy bar crawl in the city. Meeting my coworkers in November, getting dressed up for a gala, finally putting faces to names and realizing how much I genuinely like the people I work with.

And ending 2025 going into 2026 by doing something that honestly scared me… traveling solo to Egypt and Jordan.

A trip that completely changed me.

Even though I was nervous going alone and didn’t know what to expect, I met two incredible women, Desiree and Shaniece, who made the experience unforgettable. It reminded me that the world is so big… and that there are still so many people and moments waiting for you.

And now, here I am.

A year without teaching.

Still feeling it. Still missing parts of it. Because I did love it. I loved those kids. I loved watching them grow.

And I think I always will.

But I also love this life.

Living in the greatest city. Being single and surrounded by the most incredible women. Going to church on Sundays with Andi, roommate and bff for the last 6 years (CRAZY). Having a career that allows me to create, write, and talk about my favorite thing… travel.

And learning that life doesn’t have to be just one thing forever.

Life does move on after teaching.

Not in a way that erases it. Not in a way that makes it any less meaningful.

But in a way that expands you.

In a way that shows you that you can have many versions of yourself in one lifetime.

And that choosing yourself… even when it feels hard… even when it feels selfish…

might just be the thing that leads you exactly where you’re meant to be.

From Crying In An Airport To Crying On A Mountain. These Are the 5 Trips That Changed Me.

Published on by Millie BrittLeave a comment

People always say travel changes you.

And it does, but not in the “spiritual awakening” kind of way that Instagram captions make it seem. It changes you in quieter, messier ways. It forces you to face yourself when things don’t go as planned. It makes you deal with fear, loneliness, and discomfort, and it slowly teaches you that you can handle more than you think.

These are the five experiences that changed me. Not the “best photo” moments, but the ones that actually made me see life differently.

5. Losing my Luggage in Barcelona

I’ll never forget standing at baggage claim in the Barcelona airport, watching every other suitcase appear except mine.

At first, I tried to stay calm. Told myself it was fine…maybe it would come on the next flight. But as the crowd cleared out and the belt stopped moving, that calm cracked. The weight of being completely alone in a country where I barely spoke the language hit me all at once.

And I just started crying. Right there, in the middle of the airport. A kind Italian man in the lost luggage line tried to help me fill out the form and calm me down lol. He was speaking in broken English, and I was trying to answer between sobs. I remember thinking, What am I doing here? Why did I think I could do this alone?

I went to my meeting point at the airport that day feeling stupid and small, again with no luggage. Everyone around me seemed effortlessly cool and confident. Solo travelers swapping stories, planning their next stops and I couldn’t stop thinking that I’d made a mistake.

But , something shifted.

That’s when I met Chris, Brett, and Natalie. Three people who didn’t know me but treated me like I belonged. They lent me clothes, helped me laugh about it, and reminded me how good people can be. For the next two days, I walked around Barcelona in borrowed outfits, a bought Zara outfit for nightclubbing, and I felt freer than I ever had. Quite literally. I partied that first night til 9am with no care in the world. 

It’s crazy how quickly life can flip. One moment, I’m crying in an airport convinced I wasn’t cut out for solo travel, and two days later, I was laughing with new friends over cheap wine, realizing that losing everything I thought I needed gave me something more important: confidence.

That trip started with me wanting to go home. It ended with me knowing I could handle anything.

4. The British Man in Prague

I was coming off one of the worst heartbreaks of my life. The kind that leaves you questioning everything; your worth, your intuition, your ability to ever trust again (big man hater here). I told myself I was done. That men were the problem. That I’d rather be alone forever than risk being hurt again.

And then I met him.

He was British. Charming, good looking, beautiful eyes and extremely funny. We met in a small, crowded bar for a drinking crawl in Prague where the music was too loud and the floor was sticky and the bar was in a cave. During the night, we spent endless hours dancing, drinking cheap beer and wine and even shared a moment in a shared poncho while it was pouring rain down on us.

We danced until the lights came on. Talked for hours about nothing and everything. It wasn’t love, and it was never meant to be. But that night reminded me of something I didn’t realize I’d lost, the ability to let my guard down.

He didn’t try to impress me. He didn’t make promises. He just listened. I can still remember how light I felt walking home that night, lighter than I had in months.

We still follow each other. We still like each other’s posts every once in a while. And it makes me smile; not because of what it was, but because of what it represented. He reminded me that not everyone will hurt me. That not every story ends in heartbreak.

Sometimes people come into your life for one night, and that’s all it takes to shift something in you.

3. London and Ireland with Andi

This trip was a whirlwind. A perfect mix of chaos and laughter and exhaustion.

Ceilings literally caving in at our hostel, staying out until 5 a.m., sprinting through airports, barely making flights, it was ridiculous. But it was also one of the most fun and freeing trips I’ve ever had.

Andi and I have been best friends for years, but this trip showed me just how deep our friendship runs. Traveling together isn’t always easy. You see every side of someone. The tired, cranky, hungover, lost, anxious sides and it either breaks you or bonds you. For us, it bonded us.

We laughed our way through every disaster. We figured things out as we went. There was something grounding about knowing that even when everything went wrong, we had each other’s backs.

People always assume we’re together (we’re not lol), but that trip made me realize something I didn’t know I needed; that soulmates can come in different forms.

Not every “great love story” is romantic. Sometimes it’s two people who just get it. Who match your energy, your chaos, and your humor. Who see you for who you are and still sign up for the next adventure with you anyway.

That’s what this trip was for me, a reminder that the people meant for you don’t always show up the way you expect them to.

2. Japan – Learning to Stay Open

Japan was one of those trips that changed how I see everything.

From the second we landed, I felt it. The calm, the kindness, the way the world feels slower there. The people were so generous it almost didn’t make sense. Strangers stopped to help us when we were lost, walked us to train stations, smiled just to be kind.

We spent the trip bouncing between Tokyo, Kyoto, and Osaka; trying on kimonos, visiting shrines, eating everything in sight, getting lost, and laughing about it. There was one night where a group of macho men literally carried us down to our seats at a bar (don’t ask), and another where we saw Mt. Fuji peek through the clouds for two minutes and just stood there speechless.

It was one of the first times I felt completely present.

Japan taught me that confidence isn’t about having it all together. It’s about showing up with curiosity. It’s about being kind even when you have no idea what’s going on. It’s about slowing down enough to notice how beautiful life can be when you stop trying to control it.

That trip made me want to live with more intention. To be more observant. To treat people better. To be okay with not knowing what comes next. It helped soften my heart. 

1. Machu Picchu – Realizing I Could Start Over

I don’t think I’ve ever been more physically or emotionally drained than I was climbing Montana MachuPicchu.

Three hours of uphill hiking at high altitude; I couldn’t breathe, my legs burned, and I genuinely thought I wouldn’t make it. Every few steps I had to stop. I was battling my body and my brain, both telling me to quit.

Halfway up, I started tearing up. Not because of the pain, but because of what it represented.

I was still teaching at the time. I loved my students, but the job was breaking me. I was constantly sick, constantly tired, constantly pretending I was fine. I’d smile for photos, post about classroom life, act like everything was okay, but deep down, I knew it wasn’t.

That hike became a mirror. Every step felt like climbing out of the life I’d been stuck in. The altitude made me dizzy, but the realization hit harder. I didn’t have to stay somewhere that made me unhappy just because it was safe.

When I finally reached the top, I completely broke down. I was crying and laughing and gasping for air all at once. And for the first time in a long time, I felt free.

That mountain was the moment everything clicked. I realized I could choose my hard; stay where I was and stay stuck, or take a risk on myself.

I chose myself. I left teaching. I started writing. I started a brand new career in travel. I started telling the truth again.

That climb didn’t just change how I saw the world, it changed how I saw me.

What travel really taught me

Travel doesn’t fix you. It reveals you.

It strips away the distractions, the comfort, the control, the routine, and shows you what’s really there.

It’s standing in an airport crying because you lost everything and realizing you’re still okay. It’s dancing with a stranger who reminds you that love isn’t dead. It’s laughing your way through chaos with your best friend. It’s getting lost in Tokyo and realizing how kind people can be. It’s climbing a mountain and realizing you’ve been carrying way too much.

Those are the moments that change you. Not the perfect photos. Not the bucket list checkmarks. The human moments. The honest ones.

Travel didn’t make my life easier — it made it real.

Twenty-Seven, and Still Becoming

Published on by Millie BrittLeave a comment
27th

Birthdays feel different in your twenties.

(Pictures above are my 21st birthday (camo queen) and my 27th birthday).

They hold a quiet kind of gravity, the weight of what was, what could have been, and what still might be.

I remember turning 21, student teaching in a first-grade classroom, in love, living off Starbucks sandwiches from my 25-hour work weeks. Back then, life felt certain. I thought I’d be married by 27, have kids by 30, and settle into a calm kind of happiness. That was the dream, the one everyone from my small hometown seemed to hand down. The one that promised comfort, love, and belonging.

And honestly, life felt easier when the world told you who to be.

When dreams came ready-made and you didn’t yet question if they truly belonged to you.

I wished for love. For a family. For a life that felt full because someone else was in it. I didn’t know that happiness could change its shape. That sometimes it wears a ring, and other times it looks like a one-way ticket and a suitcase with room to grow.

Looking back, I almost envy that 21-year-old girl. The one who thought she had it all figured out. The one who believed love was the destination, not something you’d meet, lose, and rebuild along the way.

The years between 21 and 27 carried me through classrooms and airports, heartbreak and healing, friendships that faded and others that bloomed. They carried me to Chicago, a city that somehow feels like both chaos and home.

Twenty-seven doesn’t look the way I imagined it would.
It looks stronger. Softer. More mine.

This year feels like a quiet kind of power. Not the kind that shouts, “I’ve figured it all out,” but the kind that whispers, “I’m still becoming.” I’ve learned it’s okay to change your mind. To walk away from the version of life you once thought was the only one. To start again and again until it feels right.

If my 21-year-old self could see me now, she might think I missed the mark. No husband. No kids. No classroom of my own. She might even think I’m old (LOL). But I think she’d also be proud. Proud that I’ve built something from uncertainty. That I’ve learned to be okay with being alone. That I’ve created a life filled with love through family, friends, coworkers, and the things that light me up; travel, writing, and independence.

Because what I’ve learned is this:

Success doesn’t always look like the life you planned. Sometimes it looks like becoming the kind of person who keeps showing up for herself. Who grows. Who changes. Who finds meaning in the in-between.

And yes, sometimes it’s lonely. There are nights I still crave the love I thought I’d have by now, or wonder why my timing feels off. But I’ve realized timing isn’t a race. It’s a rhythm.

We all move to our own.

Turning 27 has been emotional in the best way. It’s about letting go of old dreams and making peace with that. It’s understanding that it’s not failure when life changes direction. It’s evolution. It’s proof that you’re still growing.

You can still want love and marriage and family. But you can also want yourself. Your peace. Your purpose. Your independence.

So here’s to 27.

To the girl I was and the woman I’m still becoming.
To the dreams I’ve outgrown and the ones still waiting for me.
And to the quiet realization that life doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s to be something beautiful.

What No One Tells You About Traveling in Your 20s

Published on by Millie BrittLeave a comment

Traveling in your 20s is something everyone should try at least once. And if you haven’t yet, ask yourself why. What’s holding you back? Not because it’s easy, but because it changes you in ways you cannot predict. To be honest, travel shifted the entire trajectory of my life and what I thought I wanted out of it.

When I was 22, I dreamt of marriage, kids, and a loving husband who would take care of me. And while those things are still on my radar, they are no longer the focus. Not since I learned what’s waiting for you beyond a small hometown in the middle of Illinois.

At 23, I went through a breakup that wrecked me. The kind that stays with you and makes you question everything; love, trust, the life you thought you were building. It shook me so hard that something in me cracked open. And in that chaos, I made a choice: to let go of what I thought I knew and do something completely different. So I dropped over five thousand dollars on a 35-day backpacking trip across Europe.

For context, I had never traveled alone. My experience up until then included a few trips to Mexico, Disney World, and a guided vacation to Greece with my grandma. I had no idea how to be alone in a new country. I wasn’t running toward adventure. I was running from heartbreak. But something in me knew I needed this.

That moment changed everything.

When June finally rolled around, it was time to be the main character in my own story. A role I had not stepped into in a long time. I flew over 24 hours and took three planes to finally land in Barcelona… where I discovered my massive Osprey backpack had been left behind in New York (cue the tears).

I had nothing but a string bikini and flip-flops in my carry-on.

There I was. Alone in a foreign airport. Crying in the corner (no joke). Regretting everything. No clothes. No makeup. No toothbrush. No idea what I was doing. And yet, somehow, I kept going. To this day, I still don’t know how I did it. Pure adrenaline maybe. 

Soon, I was distracted from my inevitable doom that was my poor missing Osprey by other solo travelers who also had booked the same EF trip as me. These strangers became my friends within hours. Slowly, the heartbreak and fear started to fade.

Eventually, my backpack showed up, and the rest of that trip felt unreal.

I danced until sunrise, explored hidden corners of countries I had only seen on Tiktok, and met people I still love to this day. I remember riding a bus through the Swiss countryside, staring out the window with my headphones in, thinking this feels like the beginning of something.

And it was.

Since then, I have traveled to over 25 countries. If I had waited until I felt fully ready or confident, I might still be waiting. All it really took was one step, one moment of saying yes, and everything started from there. I have soaked in new cultures, stumbled into new friendships, gotten incredibly lost, and found pieces of myself I didn’t know were missing.

But here is what no one really tells you about traveling in your 20s. It will challenge every part of you, and that is exactly why it matters. If you’re waiting to feel ready, this is your sign to lean into the discomfort and see where it takes you. It’s hard.

It’s not just cute cafes and aesthetic views. It’s uncomfortable. It forces you to face yourself. It demands decisions you don’t feel ready to make. It asks you to step into the unknown over and over again.

A friend once told me that in life, we all have to choose our hard. Being in a toxic relationship is hard. Leaving it is hard. Staying stuck is hard. Taking a leap is hard. You just have to decide which version of hard is worth it. 

For me, spending money I didn’t really have to take that leap with EF Ultimate Break was hard. But staying home and feeling stuck in my sadness was hard too.

Choosing discomfort changed everything. 

That one trip built a scaffolding effect. It introduced me to people I will never forget and gave me stories I will be telling for the rest of my life. It gave me the confidence to start this blog and finally share my version of travel, the honest one that I see absolutely no where on social media.

Traveling in your 20s is uncomfortable. That’s the truth. It’s unknown. It’s expensive and messy and overwhelming. But discomfort is where change begins. It’s often where the most meaningful growth happens. So what would your life look like if you said yes to just one uncomfortable thing today?

And just so we are clear, I don’t have it all figured out. I’m 26 and still learning, still messing up, still growing. But what if you did say yes to the trip you always dreamed of? What if you left the job that was slowly draining you? What if you finally walked away from that relationship that did nothing but hold you back?

“What if you chose discomfort — not because it’s easy, but because it might be the very thing that sets you free?“

xoxo Millie