BY: JASON RAYNER

At the time of posting, I’ll be a few hours away from boarding a plane and heading to Europe for 32 days. The trip will take me to Paris for a few days, Barcelona for a few weeks, and then I’ll hit up Munich, Prague, and Berlin. Some of the trip will be work focused, some of it will be with other people, and a portion will be entirely alone.

In theory, it sounds like the kind of antidote your friend from Deb from HR shares on their Facebook page - you know, the kind of graphic with cursive text over a bunch of clouds saying “Travel more, live more”. And to some degree, it is. I’m absolutely clamouring for the chance to sit in a Paris cafe and pretend to smoke a long cigarette while writing. Or sitting on a patio in Barcelona, sipping amazing wine while working diligently. Or finding love with a handsome German gentleman that I meet on the dancefloor of a Berlin club.

Obviously I’m excited.

But also, I’m terrified.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m aware that most of the things that scare me are nerves and rooted in irrationality. Yet, as I’ve been getting closer to the trip, I’ve had the same fears running through my head.

First, I’m realizing how long a month really is. I initially chose a month because it sounded whimsical and romantic. Now, as I get closer - as in hours away, I worry how prepared I actually am. What if all the work I’ve been doing on DuoLingo has been in vain and I understand nothing? Do I actually have enough money? What is I get lost one day and can’t find my way back and don’t know how to ask for help because DuoLingo failed (because apparently in my nightmare state WiFi in Europe doesn’t exist)? What if I get lonely and need my support system (valid but again, I seem to have forgotten about the internet)?

Another portion of my fear comes from me spending a very small portion of the trip alone in Barcelona - a city I’ve actually been to before. In theory, the idea of spending a portion of time in the city and acting as if I actually live there has always been something I’ve wanted. So much so that I’ve even flirted with the idea of moving abroad on a work visa. Then, earlier this summer, I was on a work trip in Montreal where I spent a week alone. I was doing pretty well until my last day, where I suddenly felt trapped, desperately wanting to get home (never mind the fact that the day after I landed I started a brand new six week contract that I knew would take up all of my time).

Then I worry because I’m an extravert and at some point, I’m going to go crazy craving human interaction (because somehow I’ve forgotten that ¾ of the trip will in fact, be with other humans).

Mostly I’m worried this trip isn’t going to live up to the crazy standards I’ve placed on it. I’m worried that I’m going to leave for a month and nothing will change - because for some reason, I’ve told myself that this has to be transformative. If I don’t have an Eat, Pray, Love experience, then I’m going to let myself down (There is obviously no pray component in play, although I can confidently predict that I will also have a hard time fitting into my clothes after all of the food I will consume and devour).

It’s a weird thing that we do as humans. Even when exciting opportunities arise, we find ways to stress ourselves out instead of just focusing on the exciting and positive.

The truth is, I need this trip. I need to break my patterns, and that includes making a list of ways that a trip will disappoint me before I even go on it.

What I need from this trip is the opportunity to focus on myself. The last year and a half I’ve felt like I’ve been at an amusement park, going from ride to ride, but not really paying attention to what I’m actually doing. I go from job to job, experience to experience, creating the same bad habits, and pushing my problems to the periphery where I can conveniently ignore them. Things like dealing with why I haven’t had a boyfriend in four years, or my tediously constant struggles with body image, or what it means to be an only child with only one living parent.

This trip isn’t going to solve these things, especially the ones that are particularly heavy. I do however, hope that removing myself from the patterns I’ve created in Toronto, I can actually focus on spending time with myself, and maybe even gain a few tools to help me eventually conquer these issues.

And if not, then at least I can ensure that I sit in a Paris cafe and pretend to smoke a long cigarette while writing. Or sitting on a patio in Barcelona, sipping amazing wine while working diligently. Or finding love with a handsome German gentleman that I meet on the dancefloor of a Berlin club (that one is a stretch but hey, maybe I can try to maifest it!).

Or, I don’t know, maybe take a few deep breaths and just have a really good fucking time.