Sometimes I start to worry about my lifestyle decisions, listen to the nay-sayers, second-guess myself.
Good or bad, it forces me to imagine the “what-if’s”…
- I could return to any of those crappy jobs that may or may not pay well, but guaranteed to suck my will to live.
- I could get an apartment again. Decorate it with the few things I own. Enjoying the process for a bit, and then sitting there all alone, with no idea what I’m doing.
- Followed shortly by freaking out, and walking to the nearest bar or cafe for some social interaction. Probably have some random guy hit on me.
- Texting friends and wondering why everyone is always too busy to call me or hang out (*generalization – I heart the few who actually check in on me.)
The idea of going back to my old life stresses me out WAY worse than the nervousness of an unknown future.
So I look forward. I imagine the completion of my minimalism project. Packing my bags. Getting more stamps on my passport. Continuing with my world-wide education. It takes me to my happy place.