Conversation with a READER

A conversation with reader Malvina about letting go, difficult memories, and finding the courage to tell my story

One of the unexpected gifts of having my book The Courage To Dive Into My Fears read by others is discovering the questions it raises for them.

Recently, a reader named Malvina took the time to read my book and then asked me four thoughtful and deeply personal questions.

Before asking her questions, she shared this reflection:

“There’s something striking about the opening image of your book, burning your lifelong diaries on your 50th birthday, then declaring the second half of your life would be happier. That’s not a gentle metaphor, that’s an actual act of letting go before you knew what would replace it.

And then having that decision send you into questions about money, God, and yourself instead of just travel stories — it reads like you didn’t set out to write a typical adventure memoir at all.”

Her words touched me because she understood something very important about my story.

When I burned my diaries at fifty, I had no idea what that act would set in motion. I wasn’t making a plan for the next chapter of my life. I simply knew that I wanted to let go of the pain I had carried and that I wanted the second half of my life to be happier.

I could never have imagined where that decision would take me.

My journey became much more than travel. The countries I visited were only part of the story. Along the way, I had to confront my fears, question my beliefs, look at my relationships, reconsider my relationship with money and spirituality, and discover who I was becoming.

Malvina’s questions made me stop and look back at parts of my life that I hadn’t thought about in a long time.

Question 1 — What did it feel like watching your diaries burn?

Malvina asked:

“I’m curious what it felt like watching those diaries burn. Was it relief, fear, or something in between? And has the woman who wrote this book turned out to be the person you imagined on that birthday, or did the journey take you somewhere you didn’t expect?”

When I watched my diaries burn on my 50th birthday, what I felt most strongly was relief.

It was as though all the pain, sadness, and suffering I had carried for so many years were finally being released. I felt the weight lifting from me, almost as if everything I had been carrying could simply fly away with the smoke.

I wasn’t trying to erase my past. I was letting go of the hold it had on me.

At the end of that day, I felt a deep sense of calm.

I had no vision of the woman I would become. I wasn’t imagining a particular future or making a detailed plan for the years ahead.

I simply knew that I wanted the second half of my life to be different.

And I could never have imagined everything that would happen afterward.

What began as an act of letting go eventually opened the door to travel, self-discovery, spirituality, difficult choices, unexpected experiences, and eventually this book.

I think that is one of the beautiful things about life:

Sometimes we have to let go of what we thought our life would be before we can discover what it can become.

Malvina’s reflection

After my answer, Malvina wrote:

“Thank you for answering so openly. The image of the weight lifting with the smoke really stayed with me. I think a lot of people talk about ‘letting go’ as a concept, but you’re describing something you actually did, physically, at a specific moment on a specific birthday. That’s rare.”

She then added something that really made me think:

“What struck me most was your line about not trying to erase your past, just its hold on you. That feels like the real heart of the book, honestly, not the travel or the reinvention, but that distinction.”

Her words made me realize that perhaps she had identified something I hadn’t consciously recognized when I wrote the book.

Question 2 — Were there memories you wanted to protect?

Malvina asked:

“When you sat down to actually write the book, did you find yourself wanting to protect or soften certain memories, now that they weren’t sitting in a diary only you would ever read? Writing for an audience is so different from writing for yourself.”

Yes, there were certain memories that I found very difficult to write about, especially when I realized that I was no longer writing only for myself.

The part about my husband was particularly difficult.

He had been abusive, and for a long time I found it hard to acknowledge that I had been a victim. I felt shy and even somewhat ashamed to share that part of my life.

There were things he did to me that I simply could not bring myself to write about in detail.

The part about my experience in the Congo was also difficult. There were certain memories and details that I chose to leave out because I wasn’t ready to share everything.

Writing the book forced me to find a balance between being honest about my story and protecting the parts of myself that I wasn’t ready to expose.

Looking back, I believe that was the right choice.

The book is my story, but I also had to decide for myself which parts of that story I was willing to give to the world.

A story is not always about telling everything

Answering Malvina made me realize something.

Being honest doesn’t necessarily mean revealing every detail.

Sometimes courage is also knowing what to share, what to keep private, and when you are ready to open another door.

When I burned my diaries at fifty, I thought I was simply letting go of my past.

Years later, when I began writing about that life, I discovered that letting go didn’t mean forgetting.

It meant being able to look back without allowing the past to define who I would become.

And perhaps that is where the real journey began.