Two things happened last week.
1. I turned 29.
2. I handed in my notice.
To be fair I don’t think anyone at work was too surprised. I’ve been talking about this solo trip for so long (and so loudly) in the office, that I think most people already assumed I’d done it months ago. So the cake I’d baked for my birthday probably received a more enthusiastic response than my news.
But for me it all now feels very, very real. Finally there’s no going back and this crazy adventure really is going to happen.
It also feels very, very scary – for the exact same reason mentioned above.
However, it’s in another way it’s really nice. I feel as though I’m entering the final year of my 20s with a purpose. I had a brilliant birthday, my friends all thoroughly spoiled me and it’s always nice to get through the day without having to have one of those wailing “Where is my life going?” moments. I may not exactly know the answer to that question, but at least I know it’s going somewhere.
And if nothing else, at least this is going to panic me into doing some serious organising. Maybe I just work better to deadlines.