The day Al and I left on this trip, I wrote this post about how I worried if our trip would be everything we hoped, and how my fears were eventually diminished after I thought about how the past 10 years seemed to be an accumulation of moments leading us to this exact experience. I have referenced a few times on this blog that Al and I have dreamed of this trip for the better part of a decade, but we never knew if it would be something we could realistically make happen.

There were several reasons for this, but one of the biggest obstacles for us is one that only our closest friends and family were aware of.  For the past 10 years, Al has dealt with a severe form of anxiety that only seemed to worsen over time. Although we always dreamed of traveling the world together since we first became best friends, the type of anxiety that took hold over Al was so intense, that it made our dream not only unreachable, but something that we simply weren’t able to consider for years.

This type of anxiety can be very difficult for people who have not experienced it to understand. It is completely separate from getting a heightened sense of nerves in a particular situation, and is not comparable to the feeling many of us have when we throw around the phrase, “This is giving me anxiety” when we are stuck somewhere we don’t want to be. Someone who experiences this level of anxiety cannot be told to simply “calm down” or “look at the bright side” and be expected to turn it around in a few days.

There was a point in our lives when Al couldn’t be near crowds or get in any type of public transportation for almost a year. How does someone go from not being able to get in a car, train, or bus, to confidently driving and navigating his way through several foreign countries he has never stepped foot in? (lets be honest, I’m doing zero of the driving over here). Al worked on beating his anxiety non-stop for nearly a decade. It was an extremely difficult and painful road, with endless ups and downs. Al was relentless in his pursuit of overcoming his anxiety, and ultimately was successful in learning how to manage life with it, in order to live the type of life he wanted for himself.

These are the things that I thought of the day we left for this trip. I thought about all of the doctors offices, emergency room visits, and the years of work it took to get here. I thought about how strong and amazing my husband is, and how much he has had to overcome to get himself to this point where we are able to live out our dream together.

Al’s journey is not my story to tell, but I asked him to write a post about his experience, and he agreed, knowing it is an extremely personal experience to share with the internet. So here it is, the story of Al, in his own words.

Several years ago, I made peace with having anxiety for the rest of my life. As time went on, it had grown, gotten worse, evolved, and essentially became a part of who I was; I had forgotten who I was without it. I was married to my medication and had rationalized that everybody has their “thing” they struggle with in life; mine will be anxiety. It sounds like a pessimistic way of looking at things but by then, anxiety was my life and everything revolved around it.

I had experienced my first bout with anxiety when I was 19. My life turned upside-down and I could no longer function as a regular human being.  I would experience frantic feelings of fright, overwhelming tingling sensations, and assumed the world around me would collapse because of the overload in my brain. What I didn’t realize at the time was I was having clinically defined panic attack after panic attack.  Megan and I would often visit the emergency room since I thought immediate medical attention was needed to cure these crazy-strong reactions. Visit after visit resulted in nothing on the doctor’s side; even though I was convinced there was some new medical discovery lodged in an area of my brain. However, doctors seem to be VERY good at their jobs and I was sent home with pamphlets on anxiety and a referral to a psychiatrist. I struggled for years with this notion that there wasn’t something physically wrong with me; the episodes were so freakish and foreign, and I responded with such alarm, that I assumed I was ailed with something so beyond modern medicine and I was the first case in human history. Regardless, in my mind, I was very much broken and desperately needed fixing.

From my perspective, life felt “unreal”.  I was detached from all aspects of my life: school, friends, family, Megan, etc. I had become a shell of person.  It may be difficult to grasp, but imagine waking up in a different body and mind every single day but still thinking, “I know there is some old part of me in here, but I’ll never find it.”

Despite my loneliness, I was supported by everyone around me.  People knew I was ill and wanted to help me in any way they knew how. I was referred to endless psychiatrists, acupuncturists, neurologists, in constant hope that they would find the thing that plagued me. Life became a series of appointments and in between these appointments; states of panic and depression. I would frequently refuse to leave my room and constantly avoided crowds or any social situations for fear that they would trigger more and more feelings of helplessness.

However, time moved forward.  My life became these feelings day in and day out. You can’t get used to it, but your mind does eventually find its new “normal” and with anxiety, when a new sense of comfort is found, your brain will seek out newer thoughts, feelings, and experiences to make you panic.  I became afraid of things like space, long strips of road, and things in the vaguest terms, unknown. I started to obsess over the location of exits. If and when I needed it, what was the fastest way out of a situation? We sat in aisles of movie theatres, had tables near the entrance of restaurants; everywhere I went I needed to know how to leave immediately.  As a result, I was afraid of travel. How could I spend time in a place that was so closed-off and crowded for an extended period of time without any way out? Simply put, I couldn’t. It was a common occurrence for me to frantically exit dinners, movies, buses, trains, etc. because I was so overwhelmed by fear. As a result, I would leave. I couldn’t stand that feeling for any longer than a few minutes and would need to vacate as soon as possible to make myself feel better.

So onto the meaning of this post….a dream to travel is absolutely destroyed when you have to factor in all the aforementioned shit.  It became so bad that simply pushing through the fear was impossible. Crowded city centers? No way. Underground trains? Forget it. 10+ hour plane rides? Fuck you! As a result, our dream of long-term, worldwide travel was indefinitely put on hold until I miraculously figured out a way to combat it.

I’ll save you the many years of stumbles and falls through therapy and panic attacks since they became a staple of my life. More importantly, I’ll get to the healing.

I started working for Northwestern University in the summer of 2013 and found a psychiatrist nearby that I could visit on a monthly basis. As my Nth psychiatrist, we went through the mundane process of telling my story through the years of anxiety and formed a plan for the coming months.  On top of talking things out, your psychiatrist’s goal is to find that perfect blend of medication that would help curb your debilitating anxiety.  Side note- I had taken the same medication for roughly eight years that it became my life preserver; without it, I was drowning.  As a result, I continued with my stapled anxiety meds and tried a new concoction my doctor dreamed up for me.

Our monthly meetings became routine, and I hadn’t noticed any significant strides in my anxiety.  However, my doctor urged me to try this therapy a fellow colleague specialized in called Cognitive Behavioral Therapy or CBT.  Up to this point, I had tried various techniques but found the most effective treatment was through medication; but saw no harm in trying and agreed to schedule a meeting with this doctor.

You know how in certain movies when the music suddenly changes to cue the moviegoer that something is about to happen? Well imagine this scene of me waiting to see this new doctor: the typical waiting room, magazines strewn about the table, the receptionist chatting with an arriving patient; everything I’ve experienced over and over again for years. Now cue the curious and upbeat music followed by “Alex Reinhardt, Dr. Young will see you now.”  Little did I know that I was heading to an office that will eventually change my life forever.

First off, I believe in past lives and I believe in timing. So when I began chatting with Dr. Young for my first visit, I knew I was chatting with an old friend and this meeting was supposed to happen. We had talked about what has plagued me for so long and how it has impacted my life but most importantly, we talked about what I was thinking in these moments of disarray, agitation, and panic.

The root of CBT is to for the patient to UNDERSTAND WHY they think the way they do and teach you that your thoughts influence your behavior.  People don’t wake up one day and are simply unable to sit in a movie theater; there are thoughts and processes in one’s mind that make us act this way and that is what needs to be unraveled and understood. Thus began the long process of detailing every situation I experienced anxiety and meticulously analyzing what made it so unbearable. With much fewer words, we then asked a series of hypothetical questions of “what’s the worst that could happen?” What if I vomited on the crowded train to work? What’s the worst that could happen? Well, I would get off at the next stop, walk home (embarrassed), take a shower, and maybe sit in shame for the next few days but that is about it. Would I become a crazy lunatic? No. Would my friends and family still love me? Yes. Would I lose my job? No. What would the people on the train think? They would have either helped me or avoided me. I was forced to think realistically, not dream up situations that have never once happened to me before. Worst case scenario, there wasn’t an outcome that would result in my life falling apart.  I would still be a smart, funny, caring human being who happened to ralph on the train.

The funny thing is, I’ve never actually puked on the train. Not once in my entire life. Nor have I passed out in a restaurant. I’ve also never taken my shirt off and run up and down the aisle of a plane (yes, an actual fear I’ve had…) That is what clicked for me during this process of CBT. This fear is based on no previous experience and therefore has no merit on creating ACTUAL fear. As this notion sunk in, the anxiety began to shrink bit by bit.

Another portion of CBT is challenging your anxiety. While armed with the previous paragraphs, I was tasked to experience as many panic-inducing situations as possible: I held my breath on crowded trains, spun in circles for minutes, watched existential documentaries, and forced myself to hyperventilate.  I began to see the world as my testing ground for my therapy and was motivated to try any and all situations to beat this thing. As a result, life became more livable. I eventually had to plan much less for train rides, dinners out, social situations and started to see things outside of finding exits, medication, and that “broken” part of my brain.

My life had suffered long enough. My dreams had been put on hold too long. I had realized that nothing had become more frustrating than the image of my 18-year-old self who was full of inspiration and vigor to travel the world; that version of myself was alive but has been beaten down by the years upon years of fear and doubt.

As my therapy progressed, I was challenging the world. Meg and I jumped out of a plane, I floated in a sensory deprivation tank (look it up), and began enjoying small versions of travel: road trips, domestic flights, etc. What I eventuality began to realize is that the long standing dream of long term travel was going to become a reality.

So here I am now. I’m in Croatia with my wife; writing about my anxiety rather than experiencing it. To get here I’ve flown 10+ hours, driven through countless country roads, walked through tourist ridden streets, eaten in many centrally seated tables at restaurants and I wake up each morning wanting more.

Today is the day we are leaving; our flight departs in 11 hours. Every few hours for the past couple of days, Al or I will look at the other and ask for what seems like the millionth time:

How do you feel?

We have spent so long planning, saving, dreaming about this day, that it all feels really surreal. There has been so much time to build up to this experience and now that it is here, I don’t really know how to take it all in.

A few nights ago, Al asked me the ‘how do you feel’ question (again), I found myself saying my fear out loud:

What if it isn’t what we thought it would be?

I know it sounds ridiculous, how can you not love traveling the world with your best friend and husband? But when you plan and dream of something for so long, and it is finally about to come true, there is a little bit of doubt that can creep in:

What if the dream is better than the reality?

Everyone always says you shouldn’t meet your heroes, you’ll just end up disappointed. What if it is the same when you go after your big life goals?

Over the next few days with this thought floating around in my head, I started getting random flashes of various moments of my life (usually when I would be doing really mundane tasks, like taking a shower or washing the dishes):

Al and I sitting in a computer lab between classes in college looking up work abroad programs in Australia; that time we just started dating and I angrily stomped up the stairs of my apartment when he announced he was going to Costa Rica over the summer without me; sitting in an internet cafe in Thailand as we desperately tried to figure out how we could get him to come visit me (he didn’t). I remembered the time I sat in a hostel in the middle of Botswana (pre FaceTime and smartphone days), and I heard the one available pay phone ring from the middle of a courtyard: a groundskeeper came in and told me there was a phone call for me, Al had somehow managed to track me down in the middle of nowhere to ask me what Africa was like.

More memories flood in; days when I would commute to work on the brown line, face smashed against a window because of how crowded it was, I would close my eyes and try to imagine this day. I remembered the time Al and I sat in an airport bar in Denver, and I looked at him and said ‘can you imagine how amazing it would feel if instead of flying back to Chicago, we were getting ready to fly out and travel?’

It felt like these memories were flooding in and reminding me that this is what we have wanted for so long, this is almost all we have wanted for so long, and we are ACTUALLY doing it. All these different moments compiled on top of each other to get to us to the point where we are now, making this dream happen.

So, what if it isn’t what we thought it would be? Then it isn’t what we thought it would be. But, I am glad we are going to find out ourselves, instead of spending another 10 years imagining it in our heads. I am so happy that we’ve made this decision, that we have decided to throw a lasso around our wildest dream and pull it down to earth, making it real.

This morning I didn’t hesitate when he asked me again, how do you feel? 

Ready. I feel ready.

When we went to the Galapagos in April, I knew there was no way I would be able to write a post that would be able to convey the experience. Instead, we made a video.

I have written about Chicago a lot on this blog; how brutal the winters are, how much I love the city, how it drives me crazy at times. I have repeatedly talked about how difficult it was to make the decision to leave Chicago, even though we are leaving to fulfill a lifetime goal.

As much as I love Chicago, I know the truth behind why it is so difficult to leave. Chicago gave us so much, but it wasn’t what made the past six years what they were. Chicago may have been the setting, but it was the people that made the city feel like home.

Leaving our best friends who Al and I love is what makes this move so difficult. They have become family to us, and there is not a day that goes by where we don’t feel overwhelmingly thankful for having such amazing people to call our friends.

With Chicago, I knew it would be another Galapagos situation, and that once again, I would not be able to put into words what I feel.

Instead, here’s a video.

This Saturday, I turn 30 years old. The beginning of a new decade.

So far, I have managed to pass most of the year without overanalyzing how I feel about turning 30, but this week it became almost impossible for me to continue ignoring the fact that it is happening. I am entering my 30’s how most young women dream of; unemployed and homeless.

Of course, I realize it is not as dramatic as all that, and it is a very literal (also, negative) way of looking at my situation. I try to remind myself that I should be nothing but thankful when I make it to another birthday when there are so many people that do not get the chance to live to 30. Each day I am alive and healthy is a day to be grateful.

But, still. It’s 30. All the positive thinking in the world still didn’t stop me from spending the morning googling articles about successful people who didn’t hit their stride until after they turned 30.

I keep thinking about all the shows and movies I watched growing up when characters hit 30: Rachel on Friends freaking out over where she is at 30 compared to everyone else, then frantically planning out how she was going to make her dream of having kids happen within the next 5 years; when Jennifer Garner’s character on 13 going on 30 dreams of being ‘thirty, flirty, and thriving‘ and gets transported into life at 30 only to find herself having grown up to be a huge jerk at the helm of a major advertising company. Also, realizing that Danny Tanner was only 29 years old in season one of Full House, and they celebrated his 30th birthday in episode 11, meaning that he was a father of three with a giant house in San Francisco and a booming journalism career all before the age of 30.

Back then, 30 seemed so grown up, and a lifetime away. Now, 30 feels so much younger than I thought it would, and it seems that nobody has life all figured out at this point. As excited as I am to find out what this next decade has in store, there is part of me that feels sad and nostalgic to leave my 20’s behind.

These past 10 years were some of the best of my life, filled with so much adventure, growth, and friendship that I felt the need to honor it in some way.  So I decided to do what I have been doing so often on this blog, which is make a list.

I have made a list of the 5 most influential moments of my 20’s. Some of these moments were amazing, some were extremely difficult, but all of them had some type of major impact on my life.

1.My First Solo Trip Abroad: Africa

When I was 21, I took my first trip abroad by myself. I decided to spend 6 weeks volunteering in South Africa, after which my best friend would join me for three weeks camping through South Africa, Namibia, Botswana, and Zambia. It was the summer between my Junior and Senior year of college and I was itching to throw myself out of my comfort zone.

It took several months of saving and planning, but it just so happened that a few weeks before I left for my trip, I went through some extremely difficult things in my personal life. I seriously considered backing out of the trip due to my emotional state.

I am not quite sure how or why I decided to force myself to go (my best guess is the thousands of dollars already spent on the flights and volunteer program). I arrived in South Africa at one of my lowest points and spent the first couple of days crying in a run down hostel while trying to talk myself out of flying home. Every single moment, I asked myself “What the hell were you thinking?!” Each day was a huge effort for me just to step outside of my comfort zone (not to mention my room), when all I wanted to do was get back on the first flight home.

It took a couple of weeks but slowly, I found myself getting stronger and finding courage where I honestly had no idea it existed. I could write about this experience ad nauseam because of what it did for me (I promise, I wont), but at the end of my 2 1/2 months away from home, I arrived back in Indiana a completely different person than the girl who had left.

This trip taught me so much about myself, about my personal limits and my ability to stand on my own two feet. I left Africa feeling like there was nothing in the world I couldn’t do if I worked hard enough. It also cemented the fact that I wanted to travel as much as I could in my lifetime.  Although I wasn’t sure how I would make it happen, I trusted that after this trip, I would find a way.

2. Living and working overseas post-college: Thailand

My original plan after college was to get a job, save as much as I could, and travel the world. What I did not plan for, was graduating at the height of the recession and that employers wouldn’t exactly be fighting over a 22 year old with a Communications degree. I applied to what felt like hundreds of jobs, and got zero interviews.

I started reading about people having success moving overseas and finding jobs, and teaching abroad seemed like the perfect way to gain work experience, travel, and earn money at the same time. So, as a fresh college graduate, I signed up to get TEFL certified and a month later, I was on a plane to Chiang Mai, Thailand.

After 3 weeks of training, I was placed at a private school in Bangkok. I spent 8 months living and working; attempting to keep my head above water and teaching English to Thai high school students. This was followed by 6 weeks traveling through Southeast Asia.

This time in my life is what I sometimes consider the most wild and carefree period of my life, and also the most aimless. Looking back now, I cringe at some of the ridiculous things that I did, and in all the ways I was the most irresponsible traveller (like stupidly riding elephants). Much of what I learned from this trip happened after I got home. One of my goals this year is to travel much more responsibly and educate myself so much more on the activities that I participate in.  Since I have had some major personal shifts in my beliefs towards tourism since then, this will serve as a small apology to the earth for how reckless I was.

3. Settling Down and Finding Balance: Chicago

After Thailand, I returned home determined to find work and move to Chicago. I was ready to start building my life and to stay in one place for awhile. After a few short stints at really horrible jobs, I nailed down an entry-level job at what was my dream company at the time.

From 24-29, Chicago is where I put down roots. I learned how to become a responsible, fully functioning adult. I worked hard, enjoyed all the city has to offer, moved in with my husband for the first time, and cemented some of the most important relationships in my life. I really can’t put into words what my time in Chicago has done for me as a person (so I won’t try right now), but it is very safe to say this is not the last you will be hearing on this topic.

4. Taking a Major Risk and Failing: Turkey

It has always been a dream of mine to travel the world, and for Al and I to do it together, as I have mentioned a painful amount of times, so I think everyone gets the point. What I haven’t yet mentioned here (or really anywhere) is that this is not the first time Al and I have attempted to live out our dream of travel.

Back in 2012, we left our jobs and moved to Turkey. The plan was to teach English, work and save, and then do a road trip around Europe together. Yes, that’s right. We went through the whole thing before: moving out, saying goodbye to friends, getting rid of all of our stuff, finding work in Turkey, I even started a blog about it.

After a few weeks in Istanbul, several things started to unravel, and rapidly. Due to a multitude of circumstances, we had to come home. We returned to our jobs, our lives in Chicago, and I tried to forget the entire thing.

Essentially, we took a leap and fell flat on our faces. I will never forget the feeling of arriving back in Chicago after everything went down, feeling like Al and I had not only failed, but that we had lost our one chance at traveling the world.  I tried breaking the wheel, and I paid the price for it. As a result, I felt that it was time for me to permanently lock away my travel dreams.

So, that’s what I did. For a really long time, I let what happened in Turkey define how I saw the world, how I made decisions, and how I saw myself. I pushed down my dream as far as it could go, then put a stack of books on top of it, and then I sat on top of the stack of books so that it couldn’t try and wrestle its way out again.

It sounds cliché, but it really did just hit me one day like a bolt of lightening; that I was letting this one failure control me and dictate my life and I wasn’t willing to give it any more energy. I knew that no matter how far I pushed down my dream, that it would never go away. Instead, it would become like a weed growing inside of me; making me miserable until I paid attention to it.

So, we started again. Only this time around, we’re doing it better than the first time. And now that we’re making it happen, it feels all the more sweeter accomplishing a dream after having to work so much harder for it. I can’t believe that I ever doubted my decision to try again.

Turkey taught me that my failures don’t define me, no matter how big it may seem at the time. How I handle the aftermath of failure is more important. If I really want something, I have to keep trying and believe that I can get it done. It also taught me that I’m apparently really stubborn when it comes to getting what I want.

Maybe one day I’ll get around to writing about that experience more in depth.

5. Getting Married: Chicago

Even though Al and I had been together for almost the entirety of my 20’s, I still had to put our decision to get married on the list.

Our wedding itself was one of my favorite days, but I realize that choosing to get married is much deeper than one really fun day of celebrating. I can’t really think of a decision that is more impactful than deciding you are going to share your life with another person.  The person you choose is the person that is going to lift you up, help you grow, and be by your side during the hard stuff. It took my almost all of my 20’s to truly understand the value and importance of a decision like this, and why it was something that I wanted to do. It also helps when you have the best person in the world as your partner (I may be biased).

I feel slightly better after having written this list. It felt like a send-off to let my 20’s know how thankful I am for everything they taught me, and for the best years of my life (so far), even when I felt like I was getting pummeled in the face at times.

Alright 30, let’s do this.

Stop me if you’ve heard this one.

A millennial walks into an office…

And quits a comfortable, steady job to travel.

You’ve heard it, right? That is because it has become the tagline of my generation. Now that I have for better or for worse joined the ranks, I have passed through what I believe are the 3 steps that most people end up going through (or just me, since this is completely based on my experience) at some point when they make a major decision that is even just a little bit different.

Step 1: Accepting the stereotype, and realizing you can’t change it. 

We are all flighty, we job hop too much, we are entitled and narcissistic. We chase dreams instead of reality, because we were all told that we were special for too long, and given too many participation ribbons for giving mediocre (at best) performances in little league soccer.

Did I miss anything?

So, when I put my notice in at my job of 6 years (a great one that offered me security, benefits, a good salary, and flexible time off) to travel the world, I had to laugh at myself. In one decision, I had branded myself as one of those people, another story of a 20-something (almost 30!) quitting their desk job to travel.

The reality is, I am not quitting my job on a whim, or after a week of sitting behind my desk enviously staring at instagram feeds of travellers raising their hands up standing in front of mountains (see my cover photo), and convincing myself that is the answer to all my problems. I do not think there is anything wrong with having a desk job and working hard to pay the bills. This has nothing to do with my choice to leave.

I am leaving job security for instability and the unknown. I might come back at some point down the road and find myself having to start over from scratch. Many see a decision like this as being irresponsible, ungrateful; just another unsatisfied young person, running away from responsibility of real life.

I have worked throughout my late teens and my twenties, and saved every bit I could of my salary to be able to take time to explore the world on my own terms. I don’t have a trust fund. I have a goal. A lofty one, and I worked for it. I met my husband when I was 19, and was lucky enough to find someone that shared this goal with me. We planned for it. I dreamed about it. It scares me. In fact, it terrifies me. I know what I am leaving behind. I understand what I am giving up. I am not naive and do also understand how lucky I am to be in a position in the world where I am able to make this type of dream a reality, and that I was already given a leg up simply because of my background.

The stereotype of my generation will be there (just like it has been for all generations), regardless of what I choose to do with my life, so I can’t let that stop me from moving forward.

Step 2: Everyone has an opinion – and you are going to hear them all. 

The week before my husband and I left our jobs, my husband was stopped in the hallway of his office by an executive who said, “Is it true what I heard? You are quitting and traveling? That is such a typical millennial thing to do. Another traveling millennial sucking up the world’s resources.'”

Because my husband is kind and lighthearted, he laughed it off. I, however, sulked angrily after he told me this story (I clearly hadn’t mastered step one yet).

Since we have prepared to go on this trip, many variants of comments like that have found their way to our ears, and it seems as though people have a lot of opinions when you make this kind of a choice. As a person who can let the opinions of others affect how I feel to a fault, this has been difficult for me.

What it has to come down to is this: I am the one that has to wake up every morning and live in my skin. I am the one that has to live out the consequences of my decisions, good or bad, while people like Executive Guy get to live in theirs, and comfortably judge me from afar. I can’t make life decisions based on Executive Guy. I have to do what feels right to me.

I can’t help but think that if we were using our hard earned money and deciding to sink it into a new home, or pay for a year of graduate school, or fund our first child, there would be much less of this type of judgement coming our way. But then again, maybe not. People will always find a way to judge any decision.

Step 3: Ignore all opinions and advice, and do it anyway. 

Believe me when I say, I have tried as hard as I could to talk myself out of this over the years. I have tried convincing myself to stay put, that leaving would be a mistake. To just satisfy my travel itch like a normal person by fitting in vacations where I could. It has been a constant battle between two sides of myself; The rational side of my brain is constantly screaming What are you doing?! We are safe here! What if you hate it? What if you’re miserable? You should be happy with what you have now, that should be enough for you! Don’t you know how lucky you are?  

This comic sums up my entire mental state 90% of the time.

Then, there is the other part of me. This is the side that wants me to do the things that I have always dreamed of doing, and to live the fullest life I possibly can.

I think it is obvious which side won out.

It is a risk, and a risk that I have decided is worth taking for me. This decision is not for everyone, millennial or not. I would never recommend people quit their jobs, and follow the same path that my husband and I are taking. It is not everyone’s dream. But right now, it is mine.

However, I would always recommend that if there is something within you that you truly want to do, regardless of how scary or foolish it may seem, or what others think about it, do whatever you can to make that thing happen. If you are not happy where you are, make decisions that will get you closer to where you want to be. Move forward. Try, and if you fail, try again. Keep trying. Maybe some of us do take big risks, and sometimes we fail in epic fashions. I know I have. But you have to ask yourself, if I don’t take this chance, what is the alternative? 

If we did not do this now, we would never stop wanting to do this. We would never stop dreaming of this. It might go away for awhile, or be pushed down and silenced by other exciting life events, but it would always resurface. Ultimately I would find myself at the end of my life, wondering why I never did it when I had the chance.

I do not want to go the next twenty years following a path that does not belong to me, and I do not want to carry around a padded resumé filled with jobs that represent years of unhappiness. Regardless of where we end up after this trip, my hope is that we will look back on this time with no regrets, and be glad we took the leap.

So, here’s to being a millennial.

Last week, I asked Al to write a post that would explain in his own words, what our upcoming trip means to him. In honor of his last day of work today, and his 29th birthday this Sunday, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to share his side. Enjoy!

My husband, the perfect 10 (as proven by his perfect 10 leopard tank).

Back in 2006, Megan and I had started dating. Since we had become best friends twelve months prior, our first year together was less traditional than most new couples. Rather than a typical fancy dinner, night at the movies, and other things “NORMAL” people do, Megan and I would walk across town and hang out at Barnes and Noble (like most popular kids at a Big10 school).

Our very first visit to B&N went like this; upon arrival, we scouted the store for two isolated, comfy couches, staked our claim by leaving a random article of clothing, and we ventured out into the land of overpriced books. Out of the dozens of sections, each of us went straight for the travel section of the store and giddily perused the lists of majestic lands we hoped to travel one day.

We each had our separate “bucket list items” but we enthusiastically listened to each others reasons for a must-visit country or region. “Wow, Meg, come look at this place!” I would shout and I’d show a picture her of a pristine beach in the Philippians. “So amazing! We NEED to go there! And look what I found!” showing me a troop of Gorillas in the Ugandan rainforest.

Upon the hundreds of magazines and region guidebooks, our individual wish lists literally stacked a few feet high which we waddled back to our secluded (reserved) couches. We spent the next several hours being awestruck by all the beautiful places this world has to offer; the serenely beautiful, the culturally enriching, the adrenaline inducing. Between the two of us, we wanted to do everything; nothing was undesirable or off limits. Not only did we want to go everywhere, but we wanted to go everywhere together. At this particular moment, I had fallen in love with Megan and I knew these plans weren’t mere fantasy; I knew we would travel the world together.

So here we are almost 10 years later, on the brink of fulfilling this relationship long dream and all I can feel is assurance. I know we are supposed to go on this adventure and I know it’ll be everything we want it to be. I’ve told Megan before that I think we are the best versions of ourselves while we travel. Our individual strengths shine through while the other supports our weaknesses, which allows us to handle any situation that we encounter.

I’m not anticipating long term travel to be a cake walk; I know challenges will arise every single day. However, I feel most alive when in a foreign land and a foreign situation; you depend on your instincts and become less preoccupied with the “what ifs” that can bog you down in life.

Lastly, nothing feels more rewarding than realizing a dream. Meg and I have discussed endlessly on how this process was going to happen. We’ve made lists upon lists of budgets, locales, pre-trip to-dos, etc. etc. etc. and we are so close to that final item on the list which is the most exciting of them all: DO IT.

back in 2006 – Only 10 years to go until we’d finally make it happen.