I’m noticing and testing my limits while in transit. For example, I spent four days socializing, eating, and drinking this past weekend. The lead-up to this was prepping for the graduation celebration that preceded the four-day extravaganza.

I really tested my limits of socializing. I am an introvert, and I’m great one-on-one, pretty good with a few people, and not so good with a crowd. I get overwhelmed by the noise and energy e.g. many conversations going on simultaneously.

This isn’t news. I know crowds are not my thing. I know extensive socializing over many days is exhausting for me. I know I become cranky and hard to be around…

I don’t go to the beach seeking joy—at least not consciously. I go because it feels good. I go because it brings me peace. And yet, in those moments when I’m not striving or reaching or trying to make something happen, joy shows up. It appears right in front of me. I just have to notice it.

That’s the beautiful thing about joy. We don’t have to chase it. We don’t have to manufacture it or control the conditions. If we’re open, it will find us.

Take a listen to “What brings you joy?”…

This is the first episode of my travel journal, The Intentional Roamer. If you missed the intro video, I am on a drive-about visiting friends and family. I thought I’d share my experience. It is similar to my posts about the emotional impact of change and transition, but in audio form.

Speaking of what’s getting in the way, this trip sparked a couple of realizations about my need to feel productive and how I judge myself. Scarcity mindset got some airtime too.

Also, did I retire and am just not willing to admit it? On that note, can we retire the word “retire”? It sounds like we are taking a big nap for the rest of our days.

Honestly, can we come up with a new word or phrase, or maybe just acknowledge that we are moving onto something different?

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…

When will life get easier? Do you know how many times I’ve thought that very thought? Do you know how many times I’ve said it out loud?

I wasn’t always comfortable in my own skin. I was always searching for a feeling of contentment, like I’d know it when I experienced it.

I created stories about who I was, and I believed them wholeheartedly. I’m not smart enough. I don’t matter. I’d be so much happier if I lost some weight.

And then there were the expectations of what I thought my life should be like. I should be making more money. I should own a home. I should be in a relationship…

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…