Chiang Mai is amazing. It's the kinda place that really pulls you in.

What pulls you in, you might ask?

It's the dust-clouded mountain views. It's the pace that reminds you it's okay to relax. And the nature makes sure you do.

I got to Chiang Mai on a Friday evening. It's my monthly getaway, but it was also a wonderful opportunity to view resorts and hotel properties for future retreats.

I found Hummus Garden on Google Maps. This will be a staple every time I come to Chiang Mai.

Avocado hummus with pine nuts, olive oil and lemon. Pita bread with garlic. Sweet potato slices with homemade sour cream. Washed down with homemade rose water.

After dinner, I found the closest weed shop, got a chocolate bar of edibles, took two, and rode off into the night with the Grab driver.

Chiang Mai is the type of place where it seems completely appropriate to just ride around high off your ass, look at the mountains and nature, and appreciate how wonderful life is.

And somewhere in the middle of all that, I came across the Museum of Broken Relationships through an internet search.

What?

There is a museum for me?

I've been separated for almost a year from my husband, and it has been one of the most devastating experiences of my adult life.

Ending a marriage is heartbreaking.

There is the loss of the union.

The loss of the future you imagined.

And, perhaps most hurtfully, the loss of self.

You realize that just existing with someone is not enough.

One of the worst feelings is feeling alone when you're in a marriage.

So when I found out there was a place that existed for people who had experienced loss, I found some solace in that.

When I got to the museum, it sat on the corner of a busy intersection. The sign was small, and it felt like you had to know about this place to find it.

Broken relationships are not popular.

We don't really celebrate them.

We don't usually create museums for them.

This intrigued me.

I was curious.

I walked in and bought my ticket.

The museum consisted of various objects people had donated from their broken relationships. Each item had a story.

There were teddy bears, shoes, dolls, a sweatshirt.

There were stories of infidelity, miscommunicated love, death, fear and growing apart.

It was inspiring, sad, celebratory, invigorating and heartbreaking all at the same time.

But what I felt most was something powerful.

These were people who had the courage to love with their whole hearts.

People who were willing to celebrate what the relationship had been, even though it had ended.

People who were willing to acknowledge that something could be meaningful and still come to an end.

And that really stayed with me.

Because to live—to truly live—is to take a risk.

You don't get to love deeply and guarantee that you won't get hurt.

You don't get to experience something beautiful and know how it will end.

Sometimes you have to bet on the moment.

You have to be willing to be there for it while it's happening.

Because that is all you really have.

The moment.

To say that you lived in that moment with someone who was there with you in that moment...

Those are the moments we live for.

I'm happy to say I got a chance to experience this.

I'm proud of myself for going in 110%.

I held nothing back.

And I truly have no regrets.

I realized how I love and how I need to be loved is a part of who I am, and it should be honored.

That's something I don't want to lose just because a relationship ended.

What I have also come to understand is that the people who come into our lives can be our teachers.

It sounds cliché, but I really do believe people can show you the parts of yourself that need work.

The wounds that are still activated.

The boundaries that need to be established.

The places where we abandon ourselves.

The places where we still have growing to do.

We are all a work in progress.

And honestly, it feels good to not have to walk around like I know what the hell I'm doing.

It feels good to be open and honest about the person I am and the person I'm trying to be.

It feels good to let go of the things that won't allow me to be my full, flourishing self.

At the end of my time at the Museum of Broken Relationships, I wrote in the confession book.

I contributed my story.

There was something powerful about doing that.

The museum wasn't only acknowledging the heartbreak.

It was acknowledging the time.

The contribution.

The love poured into these unions that meant so much to the people who lived them.

It made me think about how easily we can look at something that ended and decide that it was a mistake.

But maybe everything doesn't have to be a mistake just because it didn't last forever.

Maybe some things are simply chapters.

Some people come into our lives and change us.

Some stay.

Some leave.

Some relationships give us joy.

Some break our hearts.

Some do both.

And that's living.

That's life.

It's joy and pain and everything in between.

I didn't leave the museum feeling like I needed to erase my marriage.

I left feeling like I could finally honor it.

I loved.

I took the risk.

I showed up with my whole heart.

I lived that chapter.

And now...

I get to turn the page.