It’s been a dream of mine since I was a little girl; filling a backpack with what I can carry and walking out of my parent’s house. No real plans or destination, heart and mind open to adventure. But I’ve always been afraid. Afraid of being alone, afraid of missing home, afraid of all the things they say a girl traveling alone should be afraid of.
I’ve dabbled in some travels here and there. Making plans with friends, always waiting for others to be ready, for my friends to want to go on the same adventures as me. Never knowing when the time would be right. Then one day it finally hit me, fuck these fears and fuck waiting for others to be ready. If I want to travel, if I want a life filled with adventures, then I must be ready to seek them on my own.
In the last 8 years I have moved 13 times. In those 13 moves I’ve moved within the same 80 mile radius. I can’t stay in one place, but I also can’t get very far. I am getting ready to move for the 14th time, and yet again I will be moving back home with my mom. This is the time. I can see the dream I’ve had since I was a little girl coming to fruition.
The next 7 months need to be filled with more discipline than I have ever shown in my life. I have drawn out a budget and it is going to be tight, I am already in the red. To stay on pace, or more accurately to get on pace, I am embracing the power of no. No I don’t want to go out for chicken wings. No I can’t meet for drinks. No I’m not going to Vegas. Not only must I must embrace no, but I must embrace yes. Yes I can do this. Yes I’ve made a plan. Yes I’m ready. It will be hard, but what is 7 months?