It is the night before, and I am not scared, upset, stressed or freaking out in any way. Neither am I particularly excited. I have been waited for all of these emotions to arrive at my tears ducts for weeks now, and there hasn't been so much as mascara running down my cheeks.
I started to plan this trip 10 weeks ago, with the very romantic notion of following my heart halfway around the world. That romantic journey came to a screeching halt over 2 months ago and I was left with these plans and ideas for great adventures without someone to share them with.
This evening, dragging my recycling across the road to the neighbor's bin under the cover of darkness, I figured out a potential reason why my heart rate is far more regular than I expected it to be. My journey doesn't begin when I get on that plane tomorrow. It began 8 weeks ago when I decided to choose my own adventure. The strength I have developed with making my own choices and relying on myself since then makes the person I used to be a mere shadow of the person I am now.
I am not trying to profess how awesome I have become. I figured out that if you are ready for change, then it isn't frightening at all. I wasn't ready 10 weeks ago, but I am now. Anything that this trip teaches me and shows me will just be a bonus on top of what I have figured out in order to get there. What I mean is, I feel much more relaxed about what this trip will bring because I have already come a long way.
Words I may regret when I get held-up at gun-point and spend my food money on shoes...
If none of that made sense, perhaps the cliched saying "Its not the journey that matters, its the destination" might put it into better context. New York is just my destination and for the first time, I feel like the journey is totally up to me.
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