I have to tell this story because it is crazy.  The things Seven and I had to survive and the people who stepped up help are worthy being told. 

July 2025. I was in the Clovis, New Mexico in the US, in an RV, telling myself I was trying to find myself, but really I was just lost. Driving mile after mile, going nowhere, and I felt it with every new tank of gas and every state line I crossed, pretending to be happy, or confident, or willing to do whatever it was I was doing back then. I see it differently now. That drive into nowhere, where the headlights show you where you're going but the truth is you're not going anywhere, that was needed. I just didn't know it yet.

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Then fate hit and forced my life to change while keeping me stuck in a time loop. Forcing me to Lubbock, Texas where I put someone ahead of me in a way that I never thought I could. I found out a lot about me that month, and about others as well. And in the blistering heat, as I found myself now riding mile per mile on an old bike I bought, I found the distance traveled seemed less costly, but worth more. 

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August came and I was still in Texas, prepping for the trip to France, oh yeah, I got an invite to France, had to ay yes and in all of that excitement and fear, I had the feeling like I was finally going to be rewarded for all the good shit I'd done that never got noticed and thanked for.  And it felt amazing. The drive from Lubbock to New York was brutal, but a stop halfway through for some pizza and time with friends I will always miss, made me feel one last of America before I left America. Then, the last night in New York, yeah, Manhattan, we flew out of JFK. Me and my dog Seven walking around Queens eating fried chicken in the rain. Then the early morning Uber to the airport, my heart stopping every other beat wondering what would go wrong, because something always does.

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But nothing did. We boarded. Seven was safe. Nine hours later we landed, and she was still safe, I was still safe. We were in Europe. Geneva. And we were walking around and holy shit, it was heaven. The first smell of the air, the first sound of a European accent, the first taste of the coffee, the sight of how small the parking spots actually are. Seven and I made it.

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Then it was September 2nd. My birthday. And things started to feel suffocating, scary, because I could feel time passing and the help I'd been promised wasn't the help I was getting. I was moved from one RV I'd nearly died in to another one I felt trapped in, and the happiness started to fade fast because I realized I was being held hostage.  I was running out of money, I was running against time and felt like everyday I was running, again, in a time loop, again because  I was completely at the mercy of people I'd bet everything on, and that's a lot to bet on anyone. I stayed until I could tell they didn't want me there anymore, and the reason they were even tolerating me came down to an insurance payout, one they'd convinced themselves I was trying to steal, because my stalker had been in their ear telling them exactly that. Which was interesting because, I knew something was off and I could feel it, Seven could feel it too, the way they argued about me at the dinner table, nothing thinking I could not understand fully that they were talking about me, but it language does not hide intent, malicious or otherwise. And oddly, neither of us slept, me and Seven. And yet, I tried to stay present.  But as my requests for help became longer ignored, I knew I was no longer safe. And, I stopped eating with them. Stopped spending time with them, except the daily, you are coming with. I know what it feels like to not be wanted. I'd shower every other day and just hole up on that hill, in that RV, wondering what the hell was coming next. Until I left. With the help of four amazing people, I left.

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They chased me, and called the police on me and I fled to a tiny village where a French grandma took me in. With her I found safety inside the void I was being chased into. The nights were dark, my mental health fell apart again, and the old words started repeating: kill yourself, you've lost, you suck, you're never going to be free. But somehow her cooking, her old French songs, and her kindness broke through. Not like dynamite, more like a hand reaching into the dark. I couldn't hold on fully, but it showed me which direction to walk. And with her, Seven felt love from strangers again, something she hadn't felt in a long time. And with the bike they lent us, we rode through France on our own for the first time, and we loved it. We saw so much and found a little bit of peace.

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But it was time to go. I couldn't stay, not if I wanted to live. So we found shelter with another French grandma, this one from TikTok. She lived near Paris, so Seven and I rented a car and drove through countryside with one stop at McDonald's along the way, and made it by nightfall. This was October now. This grandma was completely different from the first. A TV, a son, a daughter, grandkids I saw every day, an apartment in a bigger town next to a mall. We laughed over French TV shows, old movies dubbed into English, and The Negotiator became my favorite thing to watch, Samuel L. Jackson with a French accent is to die for, for real, you need to check it out. We walked in the cold, and yes it was cold, but we still felt colder, because there were so many questions and so much I still just need to figure out for myself. But what time did I really have?  We had a few thousand euros left from the GoFundMe and that was it, and with only forty days left on our visa, we were running out of time and didn't know what that little of money could actually buy us. In most worlds, nothing, but this is mine and I kept hoping something would change, even if I doubted it. But in the midst of all of that, we got to Paris with the help of the second Grandma to visit. Oh, fucking Paris. Three times we went actually, and every time was more perfect than the last. Seven and I walked around, saw the Eiffel Tower, ate cookies and croissants, and I found an iced coffee in Paris, finally. We ate, we saw, we laughed, we cried, we dreamed. We loved it. But time, fucking time that's never on my side, kept ticking, and I kept finding answers to questions I had, and none of them were the ones I needed or wanted.

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Then two messages on TikTok sent me down a path there was no turning back from, mostly because we had no time and no money left to turn back. But we got advice on our visa, applied, got approved, and with three days left, we were told to come get it, outside of France. So it was a train ride, a long one, but not longer than we'd already been on, and it meant saying goodbye to another grandma, another place of comfort, another place we'd found a little salvation in. Seven was furious, again, but she follows me blindly wherever I go, and we left, again.

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This was November, a new foreign city, a hotel room for four days because that's all we could afford. With two days left, a second message came, then a call, then another, and soon Seven and I were unpacking in a real home, a spare room on the top floor, in a town I'd never heard of, in a country I never thought we'd end up in. It was cute, it was gorgeous, it was everything I'd seen in pictures of Europe. And that's where we were. We were safe, even if we didn't feel it yet, because people kept messaging us saying we'll find you, we have the authorities stopping your visa, over and over and over. But we kept going. In a new country, surrounded by strangers we'd have to learn to trust, becoming a new version of myself I still had to figure out. And things started going right. Every visa meeting, a yes. Every residency meeting, approved. Then we had it, all the approvals, all the forms, and the chance to start my own business.

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This was December. We moved to an even bigger city, dumb luck landed us on a text thread with a couple renting their place. It wasn't where we wanted to be, but it was a twenty minute train ride from where we needed, close enough, so we took it. It was a big risk for them. I told them everything that had happened, told them I could not pay the full rent they wanted upfront and may not be able to ever pay it on time, and told them the only way I could afford to live there was if they take a chance on me. They asked if I could eventually pay the full amount before I left. I told them I'd try harder than anyone. That was good enough for them. And you know what, I was so fucking proud paying them everything I promised with one day to spare. But there in that one bedroom that overlooked a grocery store, way north of any place we had ever been to this point. That's where we started to build, not just the company, or the idea of one, but a new comfort, a new life for me and Seven. I had more to heal from, and honestly this is when I started to really break down, dismantling the parts of me that had been holding on so tight they'd started treating everyone like a threat, like someone who might betray me. Letting that go took real work.But before we knew it, it was Christmas. And with every miracle on earth, we had a little tree, snacks for me, toys for Seven and SNOW as we celebrated our first Christmas in Europe.

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Then came January. New Year's Eve with fireworks everywhere, and it was quiet. Seven and I just lived, honestly, just lived, without any regret. When you're in new-build mode on a startup, there's this euphoria that comes with it, and I had it. And January kept us busy with hopes of new and more snow and mini adventures for Seven and I to just get lost into. January was a favorite month for us, and I will cherish that time. 

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Then February came, and it was time for Seven and me to move out, our temporary lease was up. We found another place, an old one we'd stayed at before, and resettled there. This stretch was turbulent, figuring out how to grow enough to get a place of our own while also growing the startup. Things got messier, balancing finding my own confidence with trying to be a decent friend to the two people I had locally. It was hard. I'd become so broken I wasn't a good friend, and I told them that. They were patient. They still are. Ask them and they'll tell you exactly how I was when I first showed up in November, and even they could see how broken I really was. It's a testament to what hope, and a few good people, can do for a person.

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February rolled into March, then April. I kept building, kept figuring it out, but time still needed to be dealt with because time never slows down or stops. And wouldn't you know it, when I was in need to go faster, I had to slow down. An injury, an odd one.  You see, I was starting to get injured now, something I haven't felt in a few years, but this one was different. I literally could not move my right leg and then my left leg did the same thing. For a week I had to crawl down the stairs, I could not sit, I could hardly walk and in my brain I could not stop freaking out. I still do not know exactly what happened, all I know is that it happened two more times, less severe, but just as painful emotionally as I keep wondering if my body is finally giving up on me. It has gotten me through everything and in my hardest times, has always allowed me to walk, in some direction, just walk forever. So to not be able to move, was a pain I had not felt. But after healing from that, I needed another new home, and it was tough without stable income or a rental history. But I got lucky, a place came up on the condition that I build out the kitchen, the walls, the bathroom myself, and if I did, I'd get a two year lease and borrowed furniture and A HOMEEEEEEE for me and Seven. So for two weeks, I rode an hour one way in the afternoon, worked til midnight and rode back, tired, drained and with just enough energy to walk Seven while I told her of our new home I was working on.   

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It was May when I finished building out the home, our home, and  we moved in. It took a minute to adjust to being around people again, in our own place, plus all the quirks that come with a new one. On top of that, taxes, filings, and oh, I bought a car. I feel so lucky for that one. I had a budget of fifteen hundred and found a  24 year old beauty with 280,000 km on  it and I love it. The motor's solid, everything else needs work, but it came with a fresh set of winter tires and a little bit of hope that one day Seven and I can travel more of Europe. In a car I actually own. Even if it isn't much, it's ours. 

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June and July felt pretty boring, and also hard. Not boring in a bad way, just, compared to everything we'd just been through, it was quiet. Too quiet. We're exploring less, but I picked up a part time job helping a small business, with another one hopefully coming through soon, enough for a little spending money to take Seven to other cities. Not enough to fix up this little car of ours, but enough to put a little gas in it.  I still haven't made more friends then what I started with, but thats on me.  I don't go out, I've eaten out four times all year and I'll admit I buy more discounted cakes than I probably should, but what's life without a little splurging. I bought one new pair of shoes, but I'm still living off what I brought with me: three polos, two henleys, six t-shirts, three pairs of jeans, two of them with holes now, two hoodies, two sweaters I actually found in the trash, a beanie, and the one thing I have left that I made myself, my winter coat. My TikTok's grown a little. I'm posting on Instagram again, and I'm going to see if I can turn this into a full time thing through Substack and Patreon.

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OH and each month, even if I did not mention it, three people with what they call their little army messaged me, created public posts, threatened me, stalked me, harassed me and generally said every day, sometimes three times a day, we are gonna get you. And even though they were the loudest thing I heard back then, they are a bit of an afterthought now. 

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But, here we are in August. We've lived a lot longer than I was expecting to, and gotten a lot further than most people probably thought we would. I'm still financially unstable, and maybe emotionally too, but Seven is safe, she's happy, she's made friends, more friends than me honestly, and we've started writing our bucket list items. But, one year into a road trip that turned into a life trip, and we're better off than we started. And hey, if I could get this much done in a year with everything that happened, imagine what's next.

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