I've always believed that a little distance can give twice as much perspective, and so this summer I decided to give myself an entire ocean's worth.

The United Kingdom, London in particular, was the proverbial golden ticket. It was beautiful and luxurious and enticing. It was brimming with new opportunities and fresh beginnings. It was the kind of city where someone could re-invent themselves; the kind of city where everyone seemed to fit, where everyone seemed to know – know who they were, know what they wanted, know what they needed.

So I planned, I saved, I packed, and finally, after months of a grueling game of tug-of-war, I traveled.

I left the comfort of my life, as broken as it may have felt, and began an adventure that could have just as easily ended in misadventure. Once I was there, there was no going back. It was as terrifying as it was exhilarating and like all the best things in life, my trip had the potential makings of a disaster, a fact that I was painfully aware of in the months leading up.

I didn't know what I was looking for, but I found it in London.

From the air you breathe to the way the sun shines, everything feels as different as the people sound. I will never have the words to describe the invisible weight that lifted off my shoulders as I entered the city limits. London doesn't leer; it isn't a brick wall of concrete and skyscrapers. On the contrary, it's a slow progression. It sneaks up on you quietly from the lush English countryside until suddenly you find yourself in the heart of one of the most renowned metropolitan cities in the world.

It was clear from the beginning that London is more than a place. It's a feeling – a mindset. A mindset that, much like the city itself, grows on your until it consumes you.

Every day was different. No two days were even remotely similar. My routine was the same, of course, but the details were constantly shifting. From the books I read on my commute to the faces I saw to the route I took, it was always subject to change. I had a definite beginning and end, but everything in between was a mystery.

Would the bus arrive five minutes early or five minutes late? Would the Northern line be backed up? Would I have time for a croissant at Sainsbury's before work? Would my inbox be full when I got to the office, or would it be a day of chasing sources?

Some people despise the not knowing; the instability that comes with city life but I craved it. Walking down the street, filled with commuters and tourists and locals, didn't make me feel lonely, it made me feel a part of something. It pushed me to work harder and to be better. Every single day inspired me in a different way because every day held something new.

I've grown more, both professionally and personally, in the past two months than I have in the majority of my 21 years. With every wrong turn, every problem I was forced to solve, and the decisions I made, I learned something new about myself. I gave until I had nothing left, felt overwhelmed, and lost, but what I received will always come out on top.

In a city that could have easily broken me, I became a stronger, more independent version of myself instead.