That's scary.

I haven’t been writing a lot lately. A lot of this is because I’m doing really well. I have less to dive into or explore. I’m thinking less, and living more.

But another part of this is because, though I haven’t wanted to face it, I’m scared.

I’m currently the happiest I’ve been in all of my adult life. I have finally reached a point in my life where I know who I am, and I don’t let the opinions of others or how they treat me affect that. I’ve reached a place in my career that I feel really good about, and I love who I have become after years of doing real, hard work on myself.

And yet — I have a lot of fear.

Although I’ve been doing great lately, there has been something underlying within me that I couldn’t put my finger on — something that didn’t feel quite right. I kept charging through each day and living my life, but deep down I felt that a sense of alignment was missing. I felt a little bit off in what I was doing.

What I didn’t realize until today, is that I am currently living with a lot of unknowns. I am living with a lot of unknowns about the future and what it’s going to look like and where I’m going to be and what I’m going to do and who I will continue to become.

While I know so many things about who I am and what I want — I also have a lot of room for life to happen. For life to come to me.

And that’s scary.

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I’m turning 30 in a few weeks. While I realize that when I was younger I had a warped sense of time and age, I also thought I would be in a little bit of a different spot at this age. Maybe I would own my own business, maybe I’d have a house, maybe I’d have met my person.

While in some ways I am light years ahead of where I thought I would be, I am, in other ways, not even close to the vision I had for this time in my life — what I thought it was supposed to look like.

And that’s scary.

I used to tell myself that if I was still single when I turned 30, I would sell all of my stuff and travel the world. I’m still single, but plot twist — I will not be selling all of my stuff to travel the world. I’ve spent the last 10 years of my life mostly single and working on myself and building the life I have today. While I used to be self-conscious that I’ve been on my own during this period, while it’s scary as hell to have to wonder if that person will ever, at this point, come along — I also wouldn’t have it any other way. Because I have fought to get to where I am today — to be the person I am today — for me, with me and me alone. I have experienced things, failed, and learned who I want to be and what I want to get to this place. That in in of itself is a gift that I’ll never not be grateful for.

But still being on my own? That’s scary.

Right now I can work where I want, travel as I please, have the freedom to choose anywhere I want to go. And while this is an incredible gift that I am insanely grateful for — it’s also overwhelming. It’s also overwhelming because I am someone that loves the city and business and work and big dreams, but also loves slow mornings and the mountains and drinking wine with the ones I love — and that makes it all more confusing. My whole life I’ve known exactly what I want down to what color I wanted on the walls of my future apartment, and now, I don’t. It’s a lot to hold, because, what if I mess it all up?

That’s scary.

I think the reason I feel scared right now — the reason things feel a little scary — is because I can feel it in my soul and my bones and my intuition that I am on the edge of the next chapter of my life. I can feel it to my core that the years of figuring it out and fucking up and becoming who I am today are closing, and a new chapter — one with new places and faces and things to go after and things to fail at and ways to grow is opening.

And that, my friends, is scary.

But I guess what I didn’t realize until I wrote this, until this second right now, is that that is also really exciting. Because all of the hard stuff and the good stuff and the laughs and the cries and the failed relationships and the late nights and the anxious spells and the falls and the times I got back up — they were leading to whatever is next in my life.

And while I don’t know exactly what that looks like yet — while I can’t see every piece of the puzzle — I feel confident enough in myself to know that I will put it together, piece by piece, in my own perfectly imperfect timing.