Fast forward to age 31. I’m married. A master’s degree under my belt, working on my dissertation. I have one amazing 2.5-year-old little boy. I’m happily married to the love of my life. We own a small business together that we are trying to grow internationally. Looks pretty good on paper, right? I’m sure if you would have met me two years ago, you would have nodded your head in tacit agreement with the path my life was taking.
It felt good, to have everyone nodding their heads and saying, “Good job, Scarlett! We’re proud of you! You’ve finally done something great.” I loved all of the approbation. So, when my husband approached me about traveling the world full time for a few years, I immediately said no. Me, the girl who was considering getting an utterly basic “wanderlust” tattoo, said no. Why? Because I finally had a stable, safe life. I was on my way to realizing the American dream. All that was left was the big house and the 1.5 kids.
It took a lot of courage to let go of that. To let go of my doctoral program. To let go of my “dream” house. To let go of the lovely, safe neighborhood we lived in in St. Louis. To let go of the possibility of a steady income working a 9-5. To let go of living a life that EVERYONE agreed was just fine.