I’m Scared.

Here’s the thing… I don’t think anyone ever really knows how they’ll react to any given situation. It isn’t until the moment you experience it that you find out. And even then the reaction is fleeting, because it adapts to new situations as they happen.

116 days ago when I boarded a Megabus back to Chicago, I could hear Austin, Texas calling my name. Shouting it, even. As my bus left the outskirts of the city, could not bear having to be apart from it for any amount of time. This would be my home. This would be my future. I was sure of it.

46 days ago, as I sat in a tiny cubicle making dreaded sales calls and realizing that I couldn’t possibly do this for the rest of my life, I wished deeply to be in the warm Austin sun. Hidden in my snack box under my cubicle was 46 post its, stuck to the side with a push pin, waiting for me to pull them off each day.

18 days ago, I started feeling panicked. Is this the right move? Am I batshit crazy for doing this? What am I supposed to do after the project? Will I let everyone down? Suddenly it all seemed so serious. It was real. It was scary.

Today marks 9 days until my move. 9. A chill ran down my spine just writing the previous sentence. Suddenly something that once felt like the answer to all of my “what ifs” feels ridiculous, stupid, and completely farfetched.

Suddenly I desperately want to hold onto anything comfortable, stable, and familiar to ease my anxiety.

Suddenly I am no match for my own plans.

Suddenly all of the inspirational quotes I’ve used to soothe my anxiety feels like bullshit.

Suddenly I feel like that girl I used to be. The one who had no faith in herself. The one who drowned in her past traumas. The one who couldn’t even walk past her front door without depression setting in.

I am not depressed, but I’m scared. On the outside I am calm, collected, brave, ready.

On the inside I feel afraid. I feel weak, I feel alone.

I suppose anyone would feel this way right before a big life altering moment like moving.

A combination of my own personal anxiety and other people trying to scare me into playing it safe have settled in.

But damnit, I’m going.

Yes. I’m scared. And I have my reasons to be. But what is the alternative? Living a life that clearly wasn’t working for me? Staying in a pot that is too small for my roots? Being unhappy and unsatisfied?

I’ve been through a lot in my life, and I’m going to go through this. The good and bad, the amazing and tragic, the temporary and permanent.

I simply can’t sit here anymore. I’m doing this and that is that.

If It doesn’t work out, I know I always have a home. I just hope I never have to come back to it for that reason.

This isn’t meant to inspire, or make others question their decisions. It isn’t meant to spark doubt in my readers. It isn’t meant to uplift.

This post is for me and anyone else who has ever doubted themselves. It is meant to be real.

9 days.



What's the word, Larry Bird?

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