Tomorrow, I’m heading off on the adventure that got me started on this blog. I’m flying to Seattle for three months to do a wildlife rehab internship at PAWS. This is something I’ve been planning and been looking forward to through lots of ups and downs for more than half a year now. I sprinted through the application process, negotiated with my bosses at the bookstore to take the time off (and still come back to a job), found a room, lost a room, found another room, put blood, sweat, and tears into finishing my thesis on time, all so that I could do this thing I’ve thought about doing for years.
And yet I’m terrified. All day long, I’ve been feeling like all I want to do is stay here, in my fun, familiar job, in my cosy, comfy apartment, in this easily accessible city. I’ve lived in the Seattle area before and still feel a connection to it. I’ve got friends there who I can’t wait to see! I’ll be working with animals at an organization I have a great deal of respect for. I should be bouncing off the walls with excitement. But right now what I’m mostly feeling is apprehension. I can’t even put words to what exactly it is that I’m apprehensive about. Just call it fear of the unknown. Fear of the new. Fear of flying. (And, although I’m – as always – a wee bit nervous about getting on an airplane tomorrow, I mean that metaphorically.) Because in a way, I’m about to take a flying leap into something completely new. What if I can’t find my wings?
I know this will pass, likely the minute I get to Schiphol. I felt the same way before leaving for seven weeks to travel on my own in Australia and that ended up being an amazing experience. And it taught me that I can’t always wait until I feel ready to stretch those wings. Sometimes, you have to take a leap of faith before you can fly.