I’m getting on a plane
I’m getting on a plane in one month. And I’m traveling for two. And I’m scared… scratch that, I’m terrified.
I’ve traveled before — I’ve been on a plane, I’ve been to different countries, I’ve tried new things. I’ve done this before, well not this length of time, but I’ve completed the basic motions, the basic training. But. I. Am. Scared.
I keep telling myself, “Bridgette, grow up. Just do the damn thing.” And then I circle back around thinking, “What the hell are you doing?”
I’ve always wanted to travel for as long as I can remember. I used to hear these amazing stories from my family, going to all of these new and foreign places and wondering when it was my turn to do the same. When I was a kid, I wanted to travel so badly that I could barely stand to look at pictures of Egypt (I was obsessed with Egypt at age 7) without tearing up. So why am I feeling this way now that I finally have the opportunity to go to places I’ve always dreamt (and cried) about going to?
But here’s my current theory about why I’m scared. For the first time, possibly in my entire life, I am comfortable. Like really, really, comfortable. Growing up, I don’t think I was ever comfortable — I didn’t really “fit.” Sure, I found a couple great friends and home will always be home, but I had always wanted to leave. I moved to Boulder, Colorado for a couple years, a town I had always wanted to live in, and I still wanted to leave. I guess I just wasn’t comfortable there either. But now I know where to go to get coffee, I know which friends to call when I’m bored, I know that when I’m feeling anxious I can just hike up my favorite trail and immediately feel at peace. These things are familiar and they feel like “me”.
People have always talked about this theory of a “comfort zone” and I don’t think I’ve truly developed one until the last year. And honestly I’m glad I have one. It’s so nice to finally know who you are, what you like and don’t like, to finally have values and passions and people that support you, and you support them back. I’ve always wondered what that feeling was… and now I’m leaving it. But the crazy thing is, it’s only temporarily.
I’m coming back. I’m not staying forever (although I’m sure I wish I was by the time my trip is over).
I’m leaving my comfort zone in one month.
I’m getting on a plane in one month.
Here I go. One month.
[It’s possible I’ll be writing about my absence of a comfort zone in one month. Follow along for (hopefully) funny/embarrassing/real shit experiences while I’m traveling.]