Yesterday I did a huge thing. I sent my passport and paperwork in to the Spanish consulate to get a visa to teach English over there for the coming school year. The strange thing is, the closer it gets to being real, the less real it feels. Back in February, I could easily picture myself in Spain. I could casually mention I was moving to Spain in the fall. Now, even though I’m getting my visa and working on Brady’s pet passport, it feels so surreal. Like, at the end of this, I will definitely still be living in LA, working in TV, and coming home to my amazing apartment and living with my best friend/life partner.

The closer it gets, the more I wonder if I’m doing the right thing. I think I am. I think my doubts are just nerves, because one of the ways that I am crazy is that I love adventure but hate change. And I especially hate changing my life now, because I love my life! I love LA, I feel healthier and happier here than I ever have. I love my friends, and my apartment, and even my crappy car. I love the sunshine and the food and the mountains. I also really do love working in television. So… why am I doing thing?!

The main reason comes down to the fact that, if I was handed my dream job tomorrow (TV writer), if that’s all I did with my life, I wouldn’t feel fulfilled. I have all these other things I want to do first. So is it more important for me to get my dream job in my 20s, or spend the rest of my 20s doing amazing, life changing things, and then settle down in one place and really focus on my career? To me, it’s a no brainer. In theory. But when the reality of leaving this life and people I love so much to move somewhere I’ve never been, where they speak a language I don’t know, and do a job I have no experience doing… well. It’s terrifying.

There are obviously a ton of pros as well. I can really dive into Spanish. I can explore so many parts of Europe. I can live on the same continent and (almost) the same time zone as Gareth.

But now I’m in the nitty gritty of selling my car and giving notice on my apartment and, honestly, I’m freaking out. I’ve made some big moves before–when I first moved to London I didn’t know anyone, and it was my first time leaving the states. But that was for college and I was surrounded by other English speaking undergrads. And I moved to LA, but that was a slow motion move that started with a semester out here and never involved having to live anywhere without Katie. Plus, I’m old now, set in my ways, and am used to a comfortable life. Where I have enough money to afford a nice apartment and a pet and anything else that might come up. I’m saying goodbye to a lot of security, and also about 75% of my paycheck. Ugh.

I know LA will always be here, and I want to move back here again some day for sure. I just wish I knew this was the right move at the right time.