Some days I court the dark waters of panic.  Last night was a doozy.

This might crash and burn.  Back to the cubicle.

What if monetizing my site is a fool’s errand?

Sure I’ve been previously published (not paid), played with writing since teenage-hood.  Frack – what if nobody hires me??!!

I could be too old, unable to hack long days and nights on the road.

I really really really need more savings.

My god, I could end up adrift in Burma with two cents to my name!

And… begin hyperventilating.

My intentions with this site is to pump you up.  Then why am I admitting all of this?  Because I’m human.  At times I must check in with myself.

Our current world is cluttered with apps, digestible articles at 500 words or less, and time limits.  This kind of environment leads to reactive decision making.  Pressures surround us, so mindless actions follow in a snap.

The last thing I should do is proceed based on hate.  Abhorring my job or criticizing people for purchasing homes or cars is wrong.  Knee-jerk posturing is pointless and eventually harmful.

As I forge new friendships and am flummoxed that Nomadic Matt asked to be my friend on Travel Blog Exchange, I live with doubts, swim in fear.

Just when I contemplated throwing in the towel, a new reader sent me this email:

“I understand completely.  I am also older, yet keep thinking I need to get out of my job and travel.  I admire that you had the courage to do this.  The North American cube routing seems hard to give up.  Nice, safe bland life that it is.  I feel I would regret leaving it, but may regret not leaving more!  The social pressure to just stay till retirement from pension plans, family and friends is real.  Good luck on your travels.”

I’m flattered this reader calls me brave.  I wouldn’t.  I call it “hitting the wall”.  It was cumulative mind you, but one day it all added up – I could scrape and bear down as others have, incite all my magical powers, but no matter what, I can’t catch up to North American standards.  For me to try, will take years and years.  It was such a relief knowing this.  After this discovery, other aha moments came.  I probably wasn’t meant to, even more so, don’t know if I want to.

Hitting the wall meant leaving regrets or the past behind.  I was able to shut that door to failures, thus opening myself up to new possibilities. 

Another thing – déjà vu – that intangible, prickly sensation lighting up your body when a stranger shakes your hand, but you’re so certain this isn’t a stranger.  You can’t help but mention, “I know you from somewhere… ”  He or she laughs nervously, responding with amusement, “No, I’m sure we’ve never met before.”  You want to grasp at it, this window into a third dimension, an essence of connection or knowing, yet it shifts and dissolves, a powdery substance choked by water in a tumbler.

Every time I write, any occasion I embark on an impulsive solo trip, pieces of that window click into place.  It’s difficult to lock into words, but I truly feel like I should be living another life.  These thoughts are not fleeting, but full blown – present 24 hours a day.

Am I scared?  You better believe it.  However, I’m ready to embrace it.  In my radio days, I interviewed a friend once, a sassy woman who took up activities like flying a plane or piano playing with apparent ease.  I asked her on-air, “Are you always confident?”

“No, absolutely not.  Anything new I try could fail.  So, I try to believe this: if something scares you, it’s probably because you’re getting close to what you want.  Maybe even what you should be doing.”

Bingo.  This is my pledge, when I freak out, don’t judge or run away.  Simply observe, then take note with respect and awareness.  What frightens me could be the very jolt I need.