Reactions to our decision to travel were overwhelmingly positive, giddy, even. We were taken aback by all the support, well-wishes, and high hopes from employers, loved ones, strangers. This may be because we were, by then, full of readied defenses as to why our plan was a good one, a smart one, a secure one. We had a speech memorized for every potential inquiry or opposition we could anticipate; we had been telling ourselves over and over how we were not being fools, irresponsible, or classic millennials, chasing a feeling rather than a future. We were sure people would doubt us, lecture us, maybe beg us not to go; we were stunned when the only ones who doubted us were ourselves. Certainly our families were curious about logistics, but out of curiosity, not concern. This relieved Cameron and had the opposite affect on me. "Now," I thought, "I cannot let them down. They believe in us." Contrary to popular belief, Millennials are genuinely not used to hearing, 'I believe in you' instead of 'prove it.'

Cameron and I had been planning on this year-long excursion for what seemed like forever until dates got involved, and then plane tickets were purchased, and the countdown ensued. Suddenly, what was a dream became a stark, terrifying reality-- and a deadline. The wistful daydreams melted down into action steps, taken from the lofty pedastal of 'some day' and lurched into now. Right Now.

Always, I'm plagued with what Cameron has dubbed 'sky-is-falling syndrome.' It's the unshakable assumption I carry that no matter how much I plan and prepare, it's all for naught and all will come crashing down, careen to screeching halt, and I will be left alone and empty-handed. Others may call it PTSD, but the fact remains that I was more prepared to fail than to succeed. And when we did succeed, though through a very rocky take-off, I found myself and my spouse grieving.

5 Stages of Grief in Our Rocky Take-Off

1.Denial

In the beginning we kept staying, "Can we really do this? I don't think we can do this." We would laugh off the notion of quitting our well-paying jobs, leaving our very stable, consistent lifestyle behind, and turning our backs on the suburb that had been our home for almost a decade. Cameron and I both had never had a more constant feeling of safety and home than when we were together, specifically the past two years of our married lives. Our little apartment was familiar, constant, home. The truth is, travel means letting that go. We didn't believe we could. Questions like "but we worked so hard to be so stable-- why throw it away?" and "travel might destroy the marriage we've built, why go?" or "we'll never find rent this low in LA again.... Or such well-paying jobs. Are we willing to give that up?" "We can't really travel the world-- that's a pipedream!" we'd say inside.

Cameron and I are bound together by our careful natures; we don't take unnecessary risks with money, relationships, or change. But always we individually longed for the adventure, like most people.

Little by little, day by day, we tossed the notion around. Well, let's just see how much we could save while paying off debt. It's all hypothetical... Numbers added up. Things fell into place. More and more it seemed plausible, crazy, but plausible. 'No way' became, 'this way' and 'should' became 'would' became 'could.' So, we went from pins on Pinterest to plans on paper. Still denying it would ever truly be.

"IF" became the optimal word. Then all the if's worked out and it was only the "But's" we had to deal with. Then those worked out too. We stopped scoffing at the dream and began the most dangerous part of reaching any goal: we hoped.

Finally, Cameron looked to me and said, "Why not? Let's do this." And the fortifying of our reasons to go began.

The actual process of preparing to leave your life behind is grueling and very difficult, but the hardest part was getting over the denial. We had to remained each other before, during, and after every obstacle, "We can. We are. We did." Sometimes, I'd have meltdowns. "Cameron, we can't! We can't go through all this stuff. It's too much. We can't

Pack all we own into suitcases and a small storage unit.

Afford to use our savings, buy this, sell that

Leave our families

Move the fridge

Find time to say 'good-bye'

Quit our jobs

Get updated paperwork

Make the weight limits

Cameron", I'd cry, "I can't decide what to pack, what to leave, what bills to cancel and which to add

I'm not strong enough, smart enough, good enough.

WHAT IF

We can't find jobs online?

We have to come home early?

We have an emergency?

We hate it?

Everyone back home moves on without us, or we move on without them?"

I was flooded with fear, doubt, denial every step of the way. But I married a man of confidence, whose assurance is hard to get, but once he is sure, is unshakeable. Most of the time he'd reason with me; give me my own speeches about why we had to do it now or never. Why it was a great plan. Why it was rational. But logic can't stop doubt.

So, he'd get me a glass of sweet tea and say "It's ok. And it will be okay." And it was.

From Denial I learned that we need each other. Independence is not only a myth, it's weakness. We grew up to believe that going it alone makes you some kind of hero, but in reality all it makes you is, well, alone. One is self-sufficient out of need and survival, not virtue. Leaning into another soul and trusting that they have your back is as terrifying as it is rewarding. Not everyone is so lucky to have such a person, but very many people do and refuse to need another because they're afraid, like me, they'll end up hurt and alone. This, of course, is a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you don't trust others to be there for you, none ever will. If you do trust and hope, some, maybe even most, will let you down, but you'll be no worse off, no more alone, and the ones who you can count on will change your life.

Cameron and I had friends and family come out of the woodwork to support us with travel gadgets, advice, brawn on moving day, encouragement, kindness-- they picked us up in the middle of the night, drove us to the airport, brought food to a going away party, took items to store for us, listened to our excited hopes and plans. Many of you who are reading are just such people.

And if you are, whether it was a simple 'like' on Facebook or Instagram or a heartfelt act of service, thank you. We needed you. We need you. And we're grateful for you.

The next post will be #2- Anger. Check in to see the latest post.