Wanderlust: Anywhere But Here – a memoir by Dr. Susan Ruckdeschel, coming to Amazon in December, 2025

About This Memoir

This eloquently written memoir transports readers through the remarkable transformation of one bold, border-crossing adventure after another. Poetic and profound, It is not just a journey of self-discovery, but one of resilience and resourcefulness. Wanderlust: Anywhere But Here traces a path from escaping the weight of a sordid past, to crafting an unconventional life through nearly a hundred home exchanges across the globe with little more than a laptop, determination, and a dream. The American Dream is indeed redefined—not through white picket fences, but through keys exchanged, cultures embraced, and lives deeply lived. Even as she manages to navigate the ups and downs of this solo travel — which promise to bring both tears and laughter to readers — the power of reinvention, forgiveness, and non-convention pave the way for the premise of a life well lived.

Chapter 10: Channeling Susanna

I thought about the stars I used to gaze at in the clear, untampered night skies of dark Mediterranean nights like glinting diamonds, unfiltered, no smog or light to compete with. I’d push my feet and hands deep into the warm sand and linger over a soft blanket. The one I bought on the beach that day from the Moroccan man who gave a free scarf to the little boy with the hair down to his waist and no shirt on. He danced with his little scraw legs in the sand. I thought his parents were gypsies, but it didn’t matter. Maybe they were, maybe they weren’t. Only at first, I thought he was a girl, and when they told me otherwise I glanced over and realized that the man from Morocco went back to his tent on the beach to sleep every night. That one day and night stood out to me. Me hearing only air and wind and water washing ashore, teasing my feet. The gypsies speaking intermediary English to the Moroccan man with him speaking back. And how nobody cared or judged or even interrupted because a common language was spoken, which was Love. It was the kind of air and acceptance you remembered as a child, because it was that long ago since you took a clean, deep breath so easily in, and even easier out. Easy. No stress. No judgments. Just sounds.

Chapter 11: The Mess

The walking meditation I used in my hiking always left me with clarity, and this time some needed relief but no real resolution for The Mess. It would take more hikes and the consumption of every bit of emotional and physical strength I had to continue cleaning, adjusting, fixing, scrubbing, and then just like that: I had an idea, and soon the idea worked itself into a plan. It might not have been the perfect plan, and maybe a knee-jerk reaction with a little bit of Susanna emotion; a place to begin an outline and a redemption of sorts because vindication drifted in and out and I needed to breathe again uninterrupted. It seemed my life had been balanced by old, broken strings, and at that moment I realized something important: as long as there was gravity, I could still stand.

Chapter 19: The Rabbit Hole

Suddenly the trappings are as clear as the same beach on the Mediterranean that called me into it naked and vulnerable on that first trip to Sardinia. I stared into the deep Hudson River now, post-almost-getting-ripped off, post-friend-drama. Post traumatic stress. I stared into the December waves churning into soon-to-be glaciers of ice, widening the banks with peaks of dirty foam and mist. Anxiety, widening, I loathed a similar rise of ice and cold at myself for being so stupid, so naive. So desperate for change I’d compromised myself in this way. It helped to look out the window, gaze at the battered Hudson River’s water’s edge as it whizzed nosily past the river towns in a jumbling ride of half-humiliation, and half-relief because for now: the drama was over.