BEYOND WORDS

Copyright © 2024 by Jessica Penzo. All Rights Reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval sytem or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of Bliss By Bliss.

For permission requests, email the publisher at the address below:

BLISS BY BLISS – Division – BLISS BOOKS

Email: blissforallmankind@gmail.com

First Edition, December 2024

ISBN 978-91-531-2939-4

This book is an autobiography. Every single word, person and event is true and took place here in this life.

BLISS BY BLISS – will from here on out be the one and only publisher for all upcoming Bliss Books. For more information go to blissbybliss.com.

I want to dedicate this book to my amazing mom

and dad. They showered me with unconditional love

and never gave up on me, no matter what I did.

Mom, your endless love, faith in me, and courage

during your own journey taught me how to love

unconditionally and to never give up hope.

Dad, your warm, happy, safe, driven energy,

and lesson to always do what’s right shaped

me into being the exact same way.

I wouldn’t be who I am today without the two of you,

and the beautiful change that will sweep over

this world would never have happened.

I know that you’re with me every step of the way,

giving me the strength and courage I need to never

give up and keep on fighting for what I believe.

See you on the other side.

RIP

Maurizio Marre Penzo

Britt-Marie Brittis Penzo

Contents

The First Time

Growing Up

Parallel Lives

08/08

A Glimpse of Heaven

Doomsday

The Awakening

Mom

Losing My Mind

F. L. Y.

Reconnecting

The First Meeting

The Final Sprint

Waiting Game Over

Heaven and Hell

Spiraling

NaltrexZone

The Implant

Thailand

Back to Belgrade

My Worst Nightmare

Italy

Home Again

Social Services – a Travesty

Wedding in Venice

Dragging

Rehab

Ibogaine

Here We Go Again

Burnout Rising

Healing

Bliss

When in Doubt

What’s Meant to Be Will Be

Epilogue

Thank You

Preface

If there’s one thing I’ve learned about LIFE it’s that it only takes a split second for everything to change. Twelve years ago, something happened that broke me to the core of my being, but in the after­math, I woke up. I discovered a reality I’d never seen before, and it changed my perspective on my whole world and everything I saw. That event set me off on a journey too crazy to try to explain with just a few words, but what started out as a nightmare has now turned into a dream beyond anything I thought was possible, but somehow always knew deep inside. This journey is by far the hardest one I’ve ever taken. It’s not over yet; it’s just the start. This is My Part.

1

The First Time

I don’t remember how it happened or even when we first met. I just remember our being together as if we’d always been. My first memory of Adam is in his room at his mom’s house. I had tagged along with a friend, not knowing where we were going, and all of a sudden, I found myself looking into the bluest of eyes. I remember other people being there, but Adam was the only one I saw. I ended up sitting next to him on his bed, and the next thing I remember, we were lying in each other’s arms. I was sixteen, Adam seventeen, and the year was 1995.

Adam wasn’t like anyone else I knew. He lived completely without limitations. Nothing was ever impossible to him, and I loved that because I am exactly the same. I was so in love with him, he was my whole world, and I spent every waking moment with him. I know his friends didn’t like that I was always around, but he didn’t care. He was all I ever wanted, crazy hot with a big heart, extremely kind and generous, and a bad boy on top of that. I’d always been drawn like a magnet to the forbidden, and he turned out to be the reason why. I wasn’t aware back then how accurate that statement actually was on a much deeper level.

My strongest memory of Adam from back then, the thing that showed me who he was and how much I meant to him, could have easily ended really badly, so I’m forever grateful it didn’t. I’d been out at a rave somewhere, partying all night, and found myself knocking on a friend’s door at six in the morning, asking to borrow her shower and her phone to call Adam. Apparently, I wasn’t entirely sane because I forgot to take off my underwear when I went into the shower. I thought it was kind of funny, but when I came out of the bathroom laughing and started to tell my friend about it, my five-years older cousin was standing in the hallway. My friend had called him and told him that I was beyond fucked up — which I totally wasn’t, and most definitely not in comparison to her, but whatever. He threw me over his shoulder against my will and took me to his friend’s house. I didn’t want to go, but I had no say in it at all. He pushed me down into a chair and forced me to stay there. All I wanted was to call Adam so he could come get me, but I wasn’t allowed! They kept pushing me down in that stupid chair every time I tried to get up, and not in a very nice way. They kept me in a house where I didn’t want to be, with people I didn’t know, nor did I want to, and on top of that, I got pushed down in a stupid chair I definitely didn’t want to sit in, over and over again. I felt so violated! Eventually, I managed to sneak out and went home.

Later that night, Adam took me to a restaurant, and while we were eating, I told him what happened earlier that day. As I was telling the story, his blue eyes all of a sudden turned black, and without saying a word, he got up and left. I sat there for about an hour waiting for him.

When he finally came back, he told me he had picked up a gun to shoot whoever had been pushing me down because, and I quote, No one is mean to my Jessica. But before he reached his destination, his friends had thankfully managed to stop him. I know that reaction was excessive, but still. It felt as if he were my knight in shining armor, and I loved it! I was so in love with him, and honestly, a guy can’t get any hotter than that, not in my world.

I remember coming to his house one day, and as I walked into his room, there were weapons all over the floor. When I asked him about it, he told me it was paintball guns, so I didn’t give it a second thought and piled them up against the wall. About a week later, we were going on a date again. I was at my house, waiting for him to pick me up, but he never showed, and when I tried to call him, his phone was off. The day turned into night, and I started to panic a little. For some reason, I turned my head to the TV in the living room. That’s when I saw him, but not outside my house, on the news. SWAT had arrested him for stealing nineteen Ak 5s from a big military facility outside of Stockholm. He had apparently, together with a couple of other guys, decided to break in and steal them as a prank. The image I saw on the news was Adam lying face down on the ground with handcuffs on.

The weeks after he was taken, I was inconsolable. I cried and cried and cried. My Adam was gone! I went to see him when he was in custody as much as I could, and I wrote him letters almost every day. I was there during the trial, and when he got sentenced to two years and ten months, I felt without a doubt that I was going to wait for him. But he felt otherwise; he decided, without even talking to me first, that he didn’t want me to ruin my life by waiting for him, so he took me off his visitation list. I had no say in it at all.

If there is one thing I hate, it’s when other people decide what’s best for me, because I’m the only one who knows that. Adam and I have been together several times in this life. We have been separated from time to time, torn apart by the forces of the Universe, but we have never really said goodbye. I believe there’s a reason for that. This was the first time.

2

Growing Up

I grew up in a house with a pool, in a suburb just outside of Stockholm, with my mom, dad, and younger sister. I had a happy childhood with amazing, loving, supportive, and kind parents. My mom was a kindergarten teacher and an amazing cook, and my parents often had dinner parties for friends and family at our house. She was a very sensitive person, and I believe one of her biggest concerns in life was what other people, aka the neighbors, would think about this and that. I am so not like that. I couldn’t care less what people think; if anything, I am more of the provocative kind. I wasn’t afraid to speak my mind or stand up for myself, regardless to whom I was talking, because I felt as if it shouldn’t matter what age you are or what title you have; those things don’t make your words more valuable than mine. We are all equal souls here, no matter what path we have chosen or how many years we have spent in life so far this time around. Unfortunately, that often got me into trouble with teachers and older kids since I wouldn’t let them push me around.

My dad was a really funny man working as a technical engineer of some sort. He also volunteered as a basketball coach for my sister’s team, and he had a major passion for scuba diving. He loved to joke around, and sometimes he was actually pretty funny, even though I would have never admitted that to him back then. This one time when I came home to have dinner, I found him in the kitchen, chopping onions with his dive mask on to prevent from tearing up. It was pretty smart, I’ll admit that, but still, who does that?! Another time, since he and my mom never wanted to watch the same thing on TV, he decided to put two TVs next to each other in the living room, with headphones to one of them, so they could always watch TV together. He played professional soccer for one of the biggest teams in Sweden when I was little, but he retired due to an injury when I turned five. I remember him taking me to the games and teaching me how to play at a really young age.

My mom was Swedish, my dad Italian, and I have, as long as I can remember, always felt American. Go figure. I had long golden-brown hair growing up and hazel eyes. I loved wearing dresses, but always combined with my Chuck Taylors, and I always had a scraped knee or some sort of injury, having managed to hurt myself somehow. One time, I jumped, hit a radiator headfirst, and ended up needing multiple stitches. Another time I missed the chair I was aiming for as I walked backwards, fell ass first on an empty aquarium sitting on the floor, crushed it completely, ended up with glass in my butt cheek, and got even more stitches. The first time riding a horse, I rode bareback, flew off, and broke my arm as I landed on the ground. I got my finger crushed by a dog’s teeth when he mistook it for a stick. I have also been rushed to the hospital in an ambulance on several occasions due to my severe nut allergy. You can say a lot of things about me, but dull is not one of them; something always happens.

In my teenage years, I expressed myself through my clothes and hair; I loved standing out in a crowd. I remember feeling different, as if I didn’t fit in or belong anywhere. I always felt as if I were an outsider looking in, even though I had friends. As far back as I can remember, I have sensed a feeling of greatness within, but I never understood it or knew what it could mean. I’ve always walked my own path, never following others. If someone told me I couldn’t do something or that it was impossible or forbidden, it became my mission to do it and prove them wrong. In my defense, whenever I put my mind to something, I always reached my goal, one way or another. This worked pretty well for me in all areas except when it came to boys.

I never fell like I was good enough, and I was never anyone’s first choice. I always found myself looking at the boy I liked as he was with someone else and pretending I was okay with it. The boy was always with a girl who was close to me, which resulted in both of them coming to me for advice when things went south; kind as I am, I did my best to help while pushing my own feelings to the side. I escaped that reality by reading a lot of books and watching movies, dreaming about my perfect love.

I kept feeling a tug inside, a voice telling me that I was here for a reason to do something important—but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what that could possibly be. So I suppressed it, thinking I was crazy.

I have always been pretty laid-back, and I remember thinking that I never wanted to grow up because I didn’t want to lose myself, no matter what. I was a wild but happy child, and I always felt safe and loved growing up. Too safe maybe, and I think that’s what got me to start seeking thrills outside the box.

I never really felt like I belonged anywhere, not until I turned sixteen and went to my first rave. I fell in love with the music, the people, the clothes, and the loving atmosphere. It fed my inner longing to express myself in a new way and I finally felt as if I belonged, dancing in the waves of ecstasy. I must have found my swag with the belly-button piercing, the low-cut, psychedelic pants, and the crop tops as well, because all of a sudden, boys were lining up! I went from being a good girl who never even broke curfew and only did normal teenage stuff, to a devil child overnight. I turned into the daughter from hell, going out partying all the time and disappearing for days. I put my parents through hell worrying about me and the change they saw. I was dancing twelve hours

straight, loving my new reality, making a lot of new friends, and not caring about anyone but myself.

I believe it was after one of those crazy nights that I ended up at Adam’s. I don’t know if that was the first time we ever met, but it was the first time I saw him. This is not one of those stories in which I come from a messed-up childhood and am in need of saving, just as all the other girls chasing Adam were desperately trying to get him to do. That’s not it at all. If anything, that part was the other way around. This story is so much bigger than that. It goes beyond life.

I am a very passionate person. So when I do something—no matter what it is—if I like it, I go all in, and I am very good at getting everyone around me to listen and join in. I always go to the extreme, good or bad, and I understand now that I was born with that quality for a reason. I have always been very generous and kind, and I never pass judgment on people—also traits given to me for a reason. Never mistake kindness for weakness, though.

I am also incredibly loyal. The one thing I love more than anything, the thing that moves the deepest parts of my soul and always makes my tears fall, is when people unite in love and come together as a whole. It doesn’t matter if it’s people cheering for a team, crowds going wild for an artist, audiences giving standing ovations for someone who has given a speech or a lecture, or people coming together to help someone in need, the act of uniting is so powerful to me. It’s the most beautiful thing, and it always makes my heart sing.

Coming from a background of never being chosen or good enough when it came to boys, meeting Adam felt magical! He chose me in a heartbeat, and we were glued to each other from the moment we met. He loved me for me, and the more me I was, the more love I got!

Being with Adam was heaven for me, so when he told me I wasn’t allowed to visit him anymore while he was incarcerated, I felt so dev

astated that I did everything in my power to get numb. I didn’t want to deal with the pain of losing him, so that whole time period after is a big blur to me. I started getting reckless and self-destructive, I hung with the wrong crowd, and I was horrible to my parents. Rapidly, I got deeper and deeper into trouble, and I moved in with a friend a week prior to turning eighteen so that my parents couldn’t keep track of me. I kept doing this, losing all sense of reality for an additional three years, until the day I found out I was pregnant.

By then, I had turned twenty years old. My parents were desperately trying to understand what was happening to me. My partying had taken me to a suburb outside of Stockholm, not a very nice one, and I somehow got stuck there. I was sinking fast without realizing it.

My beautiful daughter saved my life, no doubt. Her dad was one of my first life-changing experiences. He was living at a home for troubled teens when I met him, and I got pregnant after only seeing him for about six months. The second I found out I was pregnant, I kicked my bad habits overnight. His must have been to go deeper in, because that’s what he decided to do as my belly grew. He started to inject heroin. And just to be clear, he was the one pushing me toward keeping our baby, not the other way around, so he wasn’t forced into anything he wasn’t asking for.

We moved into an apartment together, but the drugs quickly turned him into a monster, and he started to physically and mentally abuse me every single day throughout my pregnancy. I really thought he was going to kill me sometimes when he went totally psycho. I didn’t want to tell anyone. Not because I thought it was my fault and I deserved it—no way—but because I wanted to prove everyone wrong when they told me I couldn’t raise a baby at twenty. So I hid it from my friends and family, pretending I was happy. I tried everything in my power to help him clean up his act, but he only got worse. You can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped, period. I was on the right track, but with the wrong person.

1 was so suppressed and broken down in that relationship I don’t know how I managed to survive that whole thing at only twenty years old and pregnant on top of that. I felt so alone; my self-esteem and self-worth were nonexistent. He made sure of that by hitting and kicking me, and telling me how ugly, disgusting, and unlovable I was, over and over again. You know how in cartoons when the character gets knocked out they see stars? I thought that was a joke. It’s not. I saw stars every time he threw me on the floor and kicked me in the head while I was desperately trying to protect my belly.

A lot of people have asked me why I didn’t leave him after the first hit, but it’s not that sample. Today I would, but back then I couldn’t even wrap my head around that it was actually happening in the beginning, let alone figure out how to get away from it, and it escalated really fast. I kept hoping I could help him get clean, and then he would go back to being the person I fell in love with, so that we could truly be a family but that never happened. It’s not a good reason to stay, by any means, but it was my reason. He kept abusing me and stealing all my money to buy drugs.

From the moment I found out I was pregnant, I felt an immediate bond with my daughter. I loved her so much; she was my whole world, and I knew that I had to protect her. So when she was born, I’d had enough, no more. I didn’t want her to live in that dangerous, toxic environment. She gave me the strength to kick him to the curb and move out. I didn’t listen to anyone telling me I was too young or reminding me I didn’t have a job or an apartment. That only pushed me to go out and get a job and find an apartment. I cleaned up my act in a heartbeat and left my old life behind.

My daughter gave my life new meaning, and I have done everything in my power to give her the most perfect, safe, loving childhood and life. Whatever she desired, no matter how big or impossible it seemed, I made it happen. I was determined to make up for the fact that she didn’t have a dad; I went above and beyond.

The second week after my daughter was born, I went to the same shopping mall that Adam and I had gone to when we were together. I was a shadow of my former self. It fell like I was fighting for my life every day, and I was still trying to break free from her dad because he was refusing to leave me alone. I was so suppressed at that point that I didn’t allow myself to look at anything other than the ground when we were outside, because if I looked at someone, he accused me of sleeping with that person and everyone else we met throughout my pregnancy and during the first weeks after she was born, right up until I managed to finally get rid of him.

Let me enlighten all you crazy, jealous psychos out there. The last thing a pregnant woman or someone who just had a baby is thinking about is cheating. The focus is mainly on being able to walk and pee without dying from the pain, not to mention taking care of a newborn baby!

He followed me to the mall that day, and while pushing my stroller, with the psycho breathing down my neck, I saw Adam and all my other male friends from back then walking towards us. I wanted to say hello so badly but as they got closer, I ran out of courage because I knew what would happen to me when we got home if I acknowledged them. So I nailed my eyes to the ground and walked past them as if I didn’t know them. My heart sank like a rock the moment they passed. I remember thinking how different it all could have been if I had stayed with Adam…my Adam. It hurt too much to think about, so I took those feelings, memories, and shattered dreams and hid them deep down inside where no one, not even I, could find them.

Just seeing Adam from a distance reminded me of how amazingly he had treated me. That’s what I deserved, not this bullshit! I had lost myself completely; I needed a drastic change! The thought of having to deal with psycho for the upcoming eighteen years created enormous stress. What if he hurt my daughter as well?! He had already pushed me when I had her in my arms when she was only two days old.

So I came up with a plan. I picked a day when he was so doped up he didn’t know what he was doing. I dragged him with me to family court to sign over full custody to me so I never had to deal with him again. The lady from Social Services saw the state he was in, and she knew what he had done to me, but she still tried to stop him from signing. Thankfully, he didn’t listen to her. She did not have my daughter’s best interest at heart, that’s for sure. It was so degrading and disgusting it makes me sick to my stomach thinking about it. Social Services, in Sweden anyway, seems to always protect the parent of the kid in danger, with not a care in the world about what’s best for the actual child. They allow pedophiles to keep their kids overnight or addicts with violent abusive behaviors to maintain custody. How twisted is that?!

He kept harassing me for about a year after, even though I had moved out and ended things. He wasn’t the least bit interested in his daughter though; all he wanted was to hurt me. The last time I saw him was when my daughter was ten months old. I had just put her to bed for the night when, all of a sudden, I heard someone at the door. I must have forgotten to lock it! He was either high on drugs or in withdrawal, I’m not sure, but something made him crazy! What he did that night scarred me for life.

He stormed into my apartment, grabbed me and threw me into a big mirror I had on the wall. It broke into a million pieces. Then he dragged me around in the glass, so I got cuts all over my back. After that, he dragged me by my hair into the kitchen and forced a full garbage bag over my head, so I couldn’t breathe, while at the same time pushing a knife against my throat so hard I started to bleed. In that moment, I thought I was going to die. But the second that thought entered my mind, a picture of my daughter came from within my heart, giving me the strength to knock him out with one perfect kick. I managed to get to the phone, call my dad and scream for help!

It took about thirty-five minutes to get from my parents’ house to mine, but my dad must have crushed all rules of time because fifteen minutes later he stormed into my apartment. But crazy person was long gone by then.

It’s scary how drugs can turn the most loving person into a cold-­hearted psychopath. The next day I pressed charges for everything he had ever done to me, and that felt like closure for me. The best part was when I told the officer his name, and he told me he was already in custody because they had picked him up for something else during the night. He asked me if I wanted a restraining order; and when I said yes, he told me to wait by the phone. Twenty minutes later, the officer called me back and said the form was signed. I don’t know how he got him to sign it voluntarily, nor do I care. What goes around comes around, baby; the Universe is great like that!

It took me years to recover, but I made it out alive. And I got my amazing daughter out of it, so no regrets. Three years went by of just working, supporting my little family, and trying to patch myself up as much as I could. Then one day in the midst of that, lightning struck and changed my life forever.

My dad died.

He was only fifty years old when it happened. He had a heart attack and passed away within four minutes of getting to the hospital. My world completely shattered when my mom called me and told me what happened. It felt as if I were in a shock bubble, and I couldn’t stop shaking. I remember trying to call my best friend, but I couldn’t get the number right because my fingers had stopped working. Seconds later, a priest knocked on my door, wanting to take my daughter and me to my mom’s house. It felt surreal, like a bad movie.

Whenever a death takes place outside of the home in Sweden, the police send out a crisis group to deliver the message. My dad had been on a business trip when it happened. He had been playing ice hockey with clients, and someone had tackled him really hard. Something burst in his heart. My dad was such an amazing man; he had the most vibrant energy, and my biggest regret is that I never ever told him I love him. He was my safe harbor, he did everything for me. But I was too young, too blind, and too caught up in my own drama to see and appreciate him back then.

I am so grateful, though, that I found my way back to being myself again after getting pregnant, having my daughter, and dumping my tormentor, because that led to my spending every single weekend at my parents’ house and going on vacations together. So at least we had three good years before this happened.

My parents fell in love with my daughter, and she ended up being closer to my mom than I ever was. I think they secretly felt as if they had been given a chance for a do-over after everything that happened with me. My parents had been married for thirty years the year my dad died.

Another year went by, and I got more and more depressed. I missed my dad so much I could barely get out of bed. But for my daughters sake, I had to go on. So yet again, this little girl brought me back to the land of the living. I was persuaded by my doctor to start taking antidepressants, and I took those for about five years. I was not me during those years; I was a robot just doing things, not hearing or feeling myself at all. I was so lost, and the more pills I look, the more lost I got.

Three years after my dad died, I decided that I had to get away from the bad feelings within me. So I did what a lot of people do—I tried to run away from myself. My daughter and I moved to Venice, Italy; for about a year to seek our roots. Since my dad was from there, I thought going there would somehow heal me inside. I worked as a bartender the whole year we lived there, but in the end I was just as miserable there, so we decided to go back home again.

At that point, I had moved fourteen times in the last fifteen years, trying to find home. So I felt like I had to get my shit together and stop searching for whatever it was I was looking for, since I didn’t even know what that was. I decided it was time for me to try the regular way of living. To me at the time, that meant not listening at all to what I felt inside. So I met someone who was the opposite of everyone I’d ever dated, bought a house, got married in city hall just because, and had a baby boy. But that something that never felt right to begin with got so loud that after a while I had no other choice but to listen. So after four years of trying we got a divorce.

Another couple of years went by. I was living with my two amazing kids, working full-time, and was still lost, but trying to find my way, or at least some sort of meaning or purpose to my life other than my kids. I’d always felt as if I was here to do something important, something meaningful, something that matters. That feeling had lived inside me all my life. Since I was little, I had been dreaming about my perfect love. I had always felt as if something was missing inside, as though I was missing my other half somehow. I’d never really known exactly what I was looking for, I just knew I had to keep pushing forward.

After everything that happened with crazy person, my self-esteem was beyond low because I had never dealt with those years. I blocked everything as some sort of self-defense mechanism in order to be able to survive. Because of that, those old feelings of being ugly, unlovable, and worthless were still lingering inside. The idea that someone like Adam would have any type of interest in me now was nonexistent. It didn’t feel like we were living in the same Universe anymore. He was too cool and way too hot, too amazing, and too perfect to want to be with someone like me; I was sure of that.

3

Parallel Lives

Adam and I have been in and out of each other’s orbits all our lives. I believe it was meant to be that way so we wouldn’t lose track of each other completely. I knew he was taking a lot of drugs during some periods, but I didn’t really know what kind or how much. As far as I knew, he had control over it.

We have lived parallel lives; a lot of our experiences were very similar in many ways and often involved the same group of people, but in different ways. We both have daughters the same age who ended up at the same school, and we both have had one relationship after another with no real feelings involved.

I have always been attracted to bad boys, and if you’re not willing to move mountains for me, Adam-style, you don’t really stand a chance. All the guys I’ve dated throughout the years attracted me only because it felt as if I could see a part of Adam in them. But five minutes into the relationship, after I realized they couldn’t measure up, I ended it and moved on, restlessly looking for the right feeling. It felt like I was looking for home. I have looked for Adam in everyone I’ve ever met, and when I finally found him, I found myself and everything I’ve ever dreamed of. Since I was little, I have known exactly what my perfect love would be like and how it would feel. I’ve always had an image of him in my heart, and when I met Adam, not only did he match the description, but the image was of him.

We have been torn apart by the Universe numerous times, but we have also been pushed together by the same force from time to time. He hired the construction company I worked for a few years after my daughter was born; that reconnected us. I remember how incredibly hot he looked every time he came into the office, but I held my distance. I didn’t think he had any type of interest in me, so I pretended to be happy on my end instead. I vaguely remember that he asked me out once, but I was seeing someone else at the time, as was he, so I turned him down. Then I moved to Italy.

Two months after I got back, I was invited to a mutual friend’s wedding, and Adam was placed next to me, which reconnected us again. He called me randomly from time to time, but each time after hanging up, we continued on with our lives. I never understood why he called, but I didn’t really care. I was just happy he did, even though it always left me longing for more. Because of my low self-esteem, I didn’t have the courage to let him know how I felt, so I settled for every second I got with him instead.

One thing that is now very clear to me is that we ran into each other on the same day, at the same time, at the same place, three years in a row. The weird part is that it’s not somewhere I’d normally go, but for some reason, I was drawn there like a magnet every year. After seeing Adam and talking to him, I went home feeling as if I had done what I came for, kind of, but subconsciously.

The fourth year was 2013. I was somewhere else getting closure instead, and that year he had been looking for me. It felt like we were drawn to each other every now and then to see if we were ready to reunite. On August 8, two months after what would have been our yearly run-in, meant-to-be found a way. We ran into each other at the most random place and in a way I least expected. From that moment on, our lives changed forever.

I have spent many sleepless nights wondering if I could have done anything differently, but I don’t think so. It feels like every step of the way was predetermined, good and bad, and we were thrown into it headfirst and blindfolded. I’ve been trying to find a way to describe our journey, but I can’t. It’s beyond words.

4

08/08

I had just started working again after a really weird summer of running into old boyfriends, getting closure with every single one. It had left me feeling empty and with an intense longing to find my person. It was Thursday afternoon, and for some reason, I had the impulse to go to the store. I hesitated for a while because I didn’t really need anything, but something inside me told me to go, so I listened.

As I walked down the street in my four-inch heels and pencil skirt, I all of a sudden saw Adam sitting in a car across the street. I hadn’t seen him for over a year, so I really wanted to say hi. But he hadn’t seen me, and there were cars everywhere, so I let it go and continued walking instead. As I was walking back to work a couple of minutes later, I saw him still sitting in the car, but he was about to pull out now. All of a sudden, I started waving to him like a crazy person! It felt as if something had taken over my body.

This time he saw me! He yelled at the person driving to stop the car. Without looking, I ran across the street towards him. The traffic was crazy, and I had my hands full of stuff that I, of course, managed to drop in the middle of the street while almost getting run over! We hadn’t been that close for me to risk my life just to say hi to him, but it was as if I had no control over my movements!

He jumped out of the car, and, the second our eyes locked, something happened. The feeling I’d been looking for my whole life, the one I’d never known, was all of a sudden drowning me. My first thought, before we even said hello, was, I’m home. We talked for maybe five minutes about nothing, but before he took off, he asked for my number. So I gave it to him.

A few minutes later back at the office, my phone rang. I didn’t get to it in time, but as I looked at Caller ID, I saw it had been Adam calling. Five seconds later, a text came through.

Adam: Hey, do you wanna grab a coffee sometime? Love Adam.

Jess: I’m working right now, but how about lunch tomorrow?

Adam: Ok. I’d love that! I’ll see you tomorrow!

Later that night, while making pancakes for my kids, he called again. I had my hands full, so I wasn’t able to answer. Two seconds later, I got a text.

Adam: Are you dodging my calls? Call me when you feel like it. Love Adam.

Ha ha, so impatient!

Jess: I’m not dodging you, silly; I would never do that. I have my hands full. I’ll call you back in a minute!

Adam: You can call me whenever you want, as much as you want!

We texted back and forth until late that night. I was still in