It’s been a few days since I’ve done the stupid and told the world about my upcoming hippy trip. No turning back after outing myself in my supposed fearlessness. Brave? Courageous? More like crazy and irresponsible. And while I appreciate the positive sentiments I’ve received from everyone, the truth is there are moments when my fear supersedes my excitement about the whole endeavor, and I wake up some nights with one nagging question clouding my mind, pulling me from sleep with a deafening shriek: What in the actual hell am I doing??

Less than two years ago I cried as I crossed the threshold of the first apartment I had ever had my name on, my signature scrawled upon the lease with a giant smiley face at the end, punctuated with an equally large exclamation point. For the first time in my 48 years, I enjoyed pure and total autonomy- a sovereign soul, bound to none but myself, ready to start fresh.

I moved into my new apartment with only a mattress and a closet full of clothes, and started to build my life from scratch, creating and shaping a mere dwelling into a home. And I did just that, finding today my space to be a good representation of me: colorful and expressive, lively and even boisterous – definitely not for everyone. And that’s okay, because it’s not for everyone – it’s for me. And until I hit the road, this place is mine, reflecting me from the big and loud, right down to the odd little knick knacks. 

And here I am, after amassing 750 square feet worth of “me”, shedding my skin of it all. And in the dark on those late nights when my subconscious is pounding on the inside of my brain with very legitimate questions, I freeze. And that bravery people keep talking about? Meh. If I’m being honest, were I not talking and blogging about the whole thing, I just may have crawled back into my warm security blanket of complacency. 

Instead, though, whether brave or crazy, courageous or irresponsible, I’m just faking it until I make it, yo. Seems audacity is firmly rooted in my psyche, and therefore my journey. So, with and in my fear, I’m still moving forward. Mother freaking YIKES.