Have Passport, Will Travel

My first-ever passport arrived in the mail last month. (Nearly a month later, my excitement and disbelief have yet to dampen.) 

I could hardly believe it when I opened the envelope and held it in my hand. But sure enough, when I opened the book, there was my mugshot-like photo, name, and date of birth. For the next 10 years I'm permitted by my government to travel internationally. I can go to Canada; Paris, France; or embark on a tropical cruise. There's nothing, aside from work, fear, and frugality, holding me back now.

This passport is more than a stapled book of blank pages to me. 

It represents victory over anxiety, depression, fear, financial struggles, and multiple-job constraints. 

It signifies putting my longtime dream of travel writing (a part-time hobby, of course) into action. 

It's a step of faith that the right international travel opportunities will present themselves and that I'll respond affirmatively when (not if) they do. (I'm currently browsing Carribbean cruises for next summer!) 

It's a license to change my life by changing my scenery and exploring life beyond my native country. 

It's a display of hope that my future will be broader and more exciting than my past. 

Holding this passport, I know that I haven't given up on life despite my struggles. I've allowed anxiety to cripple me in the past, for too many years, but I won't allow that anymore.

I'm hopeful for the future, for the first time in years. I, who have always wanted to know right now where I'll go and what I'll do tomorrow, am becoming increasingly comfortable with the discomfort of not knowing what's ahead of me. 

I can trust that it will be good.