{In the blog world, there has been a movement of honest, raw sharing. Inspired by Creature Comforts blogger, Ez, “Things I’m Afraid to Tell You” has been like a passing baton. It’s intention has been for folks to share their genuine selves, to step from behind the curtain like in the Wizard of Oz, and engage in authentic conversations with others. The result has been a shortened gap between writer and reader. There’s been an enhanced sense of community, and I believe, a little less loneliness. In an age of comparison where social media seems to bring out our insecurities of NOT being and doing enough, it is comforting to see that behind the sites and stats, many of us are in the same boat:scared of something. Therese from Inspiration Cooperative is keeping this streak going, encouraging bloggers to share some fears, in whichever way we’d like. Here’s something I wrote last week after a mini meltdown.}

Today I came home from a great overnight in Seoul with two dear friends. We’d planned this as a celebration of our time together here, getting ready to part ways in June. We walked around, hyper-aware of our surroundings: the sun shining through spring trees, classes of little kids walking in pairs on a field trip, the rooftops of Hongdae and buzzing streets around them. It was important to be in the moment and we knew it.

But, for me, being in that present state of appreciation and goodness didn’t last long.

As our time in Korea draws to a close, it triggers the normal feelings that come up when one leaves a place that’s been called home for four years. There’s the stress of the checklist of things to get done: cancel phone service, call shipping company, close out banking. There’s the taxing action of weeding out, selling, and packing stuff. There’s the swelling sadness of actually saying goodbye to our favorite people and places.

For Craig and me, what also enhances is our trepidation of what’s to come. The questions begin to circulate in their dizzying orbit.

What if Laos is terribly unsuccessful? What if we blow through our hard earned savings trying to start our businesses? How will we draw people to our products? When do we say “this isn’t working”?

The part of financial security comes up a lot. We’ve already invested in our shift out of teaching through my interior design course, Craig’s life coaching certification, weeks of yoga classes, paying for a business coach, website building costs…and the list seems to keep growing.

While these are necessary costs, they’re not conventional. These expenses are unfamiliar to us and without the promise of a monthly paycheck, seem hard to justify.

And although there’s a movement of people quitting their (insert secure employment) jobs to start up businesses while being geographically independent, we wonder what the ratio of attempts to success stories really is.

Recently, Craig and I have joked that we should start a blog called We’ Because…who in their right mind would give up a secure paying job that affords vacation and travel at least three times a year with health care and housing included as international teaching has done? Which couple would jump into two new and distinct professions at the same time? Who’s willing to move to “the Amazon of Asia” (we just learned this Laos reference) in hopes of opening a business AND start a family (naturally or via adoption)?

Yup, that’s right. We are. Us. He and I.

Sometimes it seems ridiculous. Why can’t we just be happy with what we’ve got? Why do we have to test the waters, rock the boat? Are we so selfish that we think we deserve more?

The self-doubts dog-pile high. And we tense up and talk in circles and rub our brows in frustration.

I’ve noticed that I like to tie up my blog posts in nice, neat ends. To have a lesson, moral, an uplifting thought. But, this is not one of those posts. The truth is this:

This is scary shit.

Period. The end.

{image source: Flickr / thegentlemanamateur }

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