Hey there—welcome to the intentional roamer, a travel journal, of sorts!

I’m at a point in my life where…I actually don’t know what’s next. At all. I just sold my house, put my stuff in storage, packed my car, and now I’m basically free as a bird—just me and a dog named Bebe.

I’m not gonna lie. It’s a little disconcerting. But it’s also crazy exciting. Normally, a moment like this would send me into a full-on overthinking spiral. Where will I live? What will I do? What’s my five-year plan? 

And then I realized: I don’t have to decide anything right now.

The relief was huge. Like, deep exhale, shoulders-down, kind of relief. I experienced a complete sense of freedom…

I’ve read a few definitions of “brave.” Most of them boil down to this: having the mental or moral strength to face your fears or what you consider difficult—and doing it anyway.

But bravery isn’t a one-size-fits-all concept. What feels brave to one person may feel routine to another. What scares you might thrill someone else. I might find body surfing in huge ocean waves terrifying, while someone else sees it as an adventure. Even the word “dangerous”—often tucked into definitions of bravery—is subjective. And so is fear.

That’s the thing about bravery: it’s deeply personal.

Bravery isn’t just about bold moves or dramatic leaps. Often, it’s quiet. Subtle. Messy. Emotional. It’s sitting with your discomfort long enough to hear the truth inside you. It’s letting your heart beat fast and your stomach churn, and still choosing to move forward.

Being brave can surface all kinds of feelings in your body—a rush of anxiety, tightness in your chest, the anticipation of what if. It’s being vulnerable. It’s letting yourself be seen and heard. It’s speaking your truth. It's deciding to make a change before you're 100% sure it will work out…