Now for something personal

I receive many different reactions from people when I disclose my 2-year escape plan of quitting my job and traveling across the Americas. Most people express some form of excited jealousy, others think I am making a “terrible career move” but the most surprising reaction I’ve gotten is “you’re so brave”.

As someone who can’t kill a centipede without screaming bloody murder (omg they are SO fast), I’ve never considered myself a brave person. There is something a little scary about leaving it all behind but — as cliche as it sounds — I’m beginning to see my life as a journey rather than a predetermined series of events that reflect some kind of social ideal of ‘the way things should go’.

Right now, I’m figuring out how to pave the way to a life I want to live. I’ve taken some time to reflect on the past two months that have marked the transition from the life I’ve built to a completely new existence. I’ve come to realize it does take some courage to wade through the stress of transition and uncertainty.

In my efforts to ‘keep it real’, I will continue to use our blog to tell the stories of my day-to-day. The following is an account of the struggle I faced when deciding to leave and what this type of ‘bravery’ is really made of.

The struggle is real, y’all.

I was naive to expect that my personal development would start only AFTER we headed out on the road. I was wrong (as I often am). I’ve seen my best and worst selves manifest as a result of our impending life-change and I’m learning a lot about myself already.

Our choice to leave early was so sudden; the original plan was to leave 8 months later, in spring 2016. So when the opportunity to depart this November presented itself to us, I was once again made aware of the fact that I don’t deal well with change (this happens every time something major happens to me). Initially I was torn between the life I’ve built — complete with fulfilling volunteer work, a well-paying job, a lovable fur-baby — and the vagabond life. Truth be told, I’ve been a bit stressed these past couple of months. My partner Jon would consider that an understatement, I’m sure.

I’m lucky (and not so lucky) to always have been the kind of person who feels too much. The worst part is I’m (mostly) completely aware of how irrational my anxiety is. Embarrassingly, it often manifests as useless, negative internal dialogue, resulting in ridiculous situations like accepting tissues for my tears from kind strangers on public transit. The better days bring clarity and I tell myself it will all work out in the end in some form or another, because it always does.

At this point you may be asking: “Why are you going if the transition is stressing you out?” The answer is simple: to feel the highest highs, some need to experience the lows. Discomfort zones quickly become comfortable and new perspectives are formed. This is how we grow and an ever-evolving life is the kind I strive to live.

Thankfully my support system is made up of a group of incredible individuals who constantly encourage me to push myself and follow my dreams.

My gutsiness is a product of love

I’m so thankful to have Jon (read: the love of a partner). He’s so much more level-headed than I am, it’s ridiculous. I really look up to him in that respect. When we were making our final decision, he was so confident that we could pull everything off in time that he convinced me that leaving early was a good idea. His confidence was one of the determining factors that tipped the scale for me.

I received the final elbow out of the nest (read: love of a friend/family) from Courtney — she is a wise woman; I don’t make many major decisions without consulting her first. She said: “The later you leave the more you’re going to miss out on as we get older. You won’t miss much in the next couple of years but pretty soon people are going to start having babies and you’re going to want to be around for that. Everything you’re doing now will be here for you when you get back.”

I reflected on this and realized how true it was.

The leap of faith is where the courage comes into play. Having the confidence (read: self-love) to know that you’re resourceful and competent enough to make it through the discomfort you may feel in times of major change is a tricky beast to wrangle. The reality is, there’s never a good time to leave — which, coincidentally, makes (almost) ANY moment the right time to leave.

I can honestly say that after the emotional roller coaster ride that was September, I’m ready to depart. Still, in true Laura form, sometimes I cry on my commutes home about having to leave my cat Django behind when we hit the road in 31 days.

-LB

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