Jitters and Cold Feet

So, we’re coming in hot on my flight out of Mississippi and boy, am I a wreck.

Not a wreck, as in tears and snot. I just have noticeably less composure than I normally do. I can feel the panic attack brewing. Every time I think about nailing down an apartment or braving those NYC streets or the subway, I have to physically step away from what I am doing and take some deep breaths.

I’ve been reading think pieces about how making yourself uncomfortable makes you better as a person and how the willingness to push yourself out of your comfort zone is shaping you into a successful future leader, in an attempt to talk myself off the ledge every time my thoughts take me there. I had a conversation with a good friend from college (ha, I can say that now) and she helped put a positive bug in my ear and I was grateful for that.

I know I’m not alone in experience. Hell, its folks coming from all over the world to do the same thing I’m doing. But coming from such a small place, surrounded by mostly small minded people and having the audacity to say, “Fuck this! I want to do something else,” is extremely isolating. I can count on one hand how many people “get it” and are rooting for me and while I could be upset about that alone, that handful is all I need.

Everything considered, I know I’ll be alright.

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