Worry is Contagious

Over the past couple of days, I have been reconsidering my timeline - again. This happened after, at a friend's wedding this weekend, I was discussing my plan with a few people and they seemed incredibly concerned about my financial situation. Which got me panicked about it. One friend suggested that I set up a donation page, which I immediately shot down. Something about asking people for money when you are voluntarily becoming jobless and homeless, seems strange - and maybe a bit rude. But she made a good point that she wants to help her friends chase their dreams, if that's what she can do to support me in finding my best self and making me happy, then its just as good - better, even - then the money we throw at our friends at this stage in our lives for their decisions to get married or have babies. 

Point (to): Red.

I am now slowly warming up to the idea of setting up a donation page. Passively, at best. Where my friends (and family) who love and support me can do their best to ease their minds about my impending homelessness and ballsy-as-shit (or stupid, TBD) decision to quit everything and leave all comforts behind to find my place in this world. That's right, I'm self-proclaiming it is ballsy as shit, because the more they talk about the realities of it the more my mind panics and I go OH GOD WHAT AM I ABOUT TO DO? And maybe I should stay just one more year?!  In a year, I could pay off credit cards and have a better nest to fall back on, should I not be able to find a new city and a new job in time (before my (in process) savings runs out). I'm saving as hard as I can right now, but just a few extra months at work and a couple more commission checks would make a huge difference. If I postponed, it would be the more responsible thing to do (in a fairly irresponsible situation). It would ease their worries about my well-being - which, until then, I didn't even realize was a thing. And ease my mind, which is growing with steady concern directly paralleling the voiced concerns of others.

Maybe if I just stay and extra seven months... I contemplate.

But I sat at work today, staring at my computer, aware that, as it is the first day of June, I have officially three months until I am homeless - should I choose to be. And even then, it seems too far away. Next spring would be better, I think to myself; heading into the warmth, versus leaving this fall, heading into the cold. But I think about the prospect of another snowy winter, stuck at the same job, in the same house, doing the same old thing and I can't imagine the toll that would take on me. I think it might swollow me whole. And from that, I realized that I'm certain of it now: it is time to go - ready or not, financially under-prepared or not. I'm going to do my damnest to make this work, because I have to make it work. It feels like now or never - and never isn't an option because I take a long time to make a decision, but once it is made, I rarely go back: I believe my decision has been cemented in the form of progression. I have to fucking do this, ready or not - all I can give it is all that I have and hope for the best.

I have to try. Worry or not. The time is now.