Traveling is my outlet. Aimlessly exploring is my therapy. My plan was simple—rent a car, drive the entire country, camp, take a lot of photos, and try not to be too introverted should I run into any fellow travelers.

After a red-eye flight, I landed on a rainy September morning that just happened to be my birthday. I took a quick nap in my rental car and awoke to the blaring horns of a marching band walking past my car in the rain—a surprising and inexplicable experience. I camped in gale force winds, hiked with a geologist and his dad to the country’s oldest natural swimming pool, and stood at the edge of a waterfall so powerful it forces a person to consider how small we all truly are. In one small village, I even watched a little boy playfully throw rocks at his sister while saying “Fok you” in an accent that made it impossible to hold back laughter.

The truth is, I needed Iceland. I found my outlet, and I got my therapy.