After spending the past two weeks in Iceland, France, and Belgium, I’ve returned home and have gotten back to my old life. Except I’m not the same as I was before. Sure, I spent my 32nd birthday in Reykjavik so I am a little older, and I toured around Normandy for a day to learn about D-Day so I’m a little bit wiser, but ultimately this trip changed something in me.

Let’s get into some real talk for  a minute. I think I’ve mentioned my struggle with anxiety previously on this blog, but I’ve not gone too in depth about it. It’s a topic I’ll dip my toes into here and there, but will rarely dive into unless I feel you really get me. But I’m feeling brave today, so let’s go with it.

I’ve dealt with some form of anxiety for as long as I can remember. A gray sky and overturned leaves meant imminent danger, for surely a tornado was headed our way. Stomach in knots, I would beg my parents to leave me home before our family vacations because I couldn’t stand the thought of flying. For awhile in college, riding the train home would prompt panic attacks because I was certain the guy in the seat across from me had a gun. It had escalated to the point of not even going to restaurants or malls because I was sure something bad was going to happen. In my head, my entire life was a life or death situation.

Through my 20s, I had this dream of traveling the world. I researched round-the-world airfare, subscribed to travel magazines, read travel blogs and memoirs, created itineraries for non-existent trips. I fancied myself a world traveler, what with my ability to spout out facts about far off lands.

Except I’d never actually been out of North America or the Caribbean.

So my dreams of exploring remained just that – dreams – as I graduated college, got a job, got married, and eventually moved to Virginia.

On paper (and hah, on Instagram) my life looked wonderful. And it was! I left my career in meteorology to start a photography business, my husband was (and is) so supportive and wonderful and the best partner I could go on life’s journey with, and we’d just bought an adorable cape cod in a quiet Virginia town. But I didn’t feel complete. My worldview was naive, and limited to the comfortable middle-class existence I’ve lived for so long. I longed to explore the world and break away from my comfort zone in an effort to challenge myself.

To make a long story shorter, for several years Jon and I kept saying our next trip was going to be “The” trip: backpacking in Europe. Our European sojourn wouldn’t be the 6-month long party that most people envision when hearing the phrase “backpacking through Europe”, but it would be our own little adventure. Two weeks and a couple of countries, carrying everything we needed in our backpacks.  Each year we said “next year!” we’d be going. 2010 became 2011, became 2012, and so on.

Everyone can relate to the ebb and flow of adult life: you make plans, and then your water heater breaks. You’re asked to be in a friend’s wedding. You need a new car. And with each piece of adult responsibility that comes, you see your dreams slowly float off into the sunset. So here we were in 2014, 11 years after I first started planning itineraries for a backpacking trip and still no trip on the calendar.

It was time. I was ready. No more excuses – we would have to make this trip happen in spite of the myriad of responsibilities that kept coming up.

One of my college roommates and her husband knew that Jon and I were planning this trip and mentioned their interest in doing a similar trip. We decided that we’d all go together and began our planning sessions, first in person, and then via Skype after they moved to New York. In February of this year, the flights were booked. By May, we’d made our reservations for air b&bs in Reykjavik, Paris, and Brussels.

Our trip began on September 4th. Flying from Dulles to Reykjavik, I was nervous for the flight, but ultimately excited beyond belief for our trip. Iceland is a relatively safe place, so it wasn’t until we arrived in Paris that I started feeling very anxious. I knew I would have to take trains and ride the metro and be present in crowded tourist locations – all targets for bad people to do bad things. And I was convinced that each time I was in those places, a bad thing would happen.

Thus is the life of someone with anxiety. I knew I was in Paris and not a war zone, and I knew that the likelihood of being in the wrong place at the wrong time was slim. But anxiety manifests itself in my brain like a shoulder devil, whispering crazy thoughts over and over again: That guy has a large backpack – he’s definitely toting a gun. There’s no security on these trains. There’s no room for logic in a brain that’s being overwhelmed with anxious thoughts, unless it’s caught early. I found myself prepping as we approached the metro station, reminding myself that these are just normal Parisians commuting to or from work. Feelings of both relief and pride each time I ascended the stairs onto the street at my destination, each metro ride being another win over the bully in my brain.

Sometimes anxiety seemed like it would get the best of me – waiting in the elevator line on the second level of the Eiffel Tower, for example. As the early stages of panic crept on, I nearly turned back. Instead I realized how silly it would be to have come all this way and not complete the trip to the top. I powered through and was rewarded with an incredible view (and a glass of champagne!) at the top.

There are other stories similar to this one, but the outcome of all of them is success. Teetering on the precipice of panic, I often withdrew for awhile, which is a stark contrast to my usual chatty and excitable nature. But once I made it through, I always gave myself a moment to be proud, to recognize how far I’ve come from those days where I wouldn’t even step foot in Wendy’s, and to really be present in the moment. To a lot of people, Europe may be like going to another state – it’s not exotic or adventurous to most. But to me it represented so much, and was a huge hurdle to overcome in my therapy.

This trip meant so much more to me than just visiting Europe. It showed me that there’s an entire world to explore, and slowly but surely I intend do just that. Because I know that I can.

Please tell me in the comments below – what do you struggle with? What is it that holds you back from achieving your dreams?

(Psst: Some of these photos are available as prints in my Etsy shop!)