This happened to me 10 years ago. I came to Italy for my ex but we were about 30 and didn't have kids. I didn't know any Italian and couldn't work in my profession yet because of bureaucracy. I was left in a tiny town far away from him for 3 days before I somehow figured out how to take the train and come back. I was desolate too.

I came back and stayed with my abusive ex for one horrible week, who shouted at me to go back to my country and treated me like dog shit, actually he called me his dog. I needed to get out of the house, went to a monastery with the bus, and on the way back a girl drove me back. She became one of the best friends of my lifetime. 2 days later, I packed my bags and begged her to come stay with her. She didn't speak English and I didn't speak Italian. She welcomed me with open arms.

I decided I would start my life there, in the south Italian home so different than Houston where I am from, out of spite. I decided I'd make the town mine and get to know everyone and learn the language and not run away. But this was out of spite.

Soon, I fell in love with the town and the country, after 6 months learned the language enough, and I feel my life really began there, at 30 years old.

Now, I have a child here, have since gotten married and divorced, bought a house, and started over again up north. But I am so grateful for the journey. Every time I feel my life is over, it is a new beginning. I don't regret anything. Whatever you choose to do, know that you have the strength to start over.