It hasn't happened yet, but I'm pretty sure that the gravity of the fact that we're moving to Spain is about to crash down on me. 🫠

For the last handful of weeks, I've been doing surprisingly okay with the fact that we're about to sell most of our things and move out of the country with our three-year-old-toddlers … but slowly (and predictably), I can feel myself starting to do… not quite as well.

I don't know about you, but I'm at my bravest from a distance. From a few months or a year out, I can look ahead at a decision and go for the brave one without even hesitating.

Yes, I'll write a new book, yes I'll do a TEDx talk, yes I'll teach 7,000 how to navigate singleness & dating well, and have a weekly phone date with hundreds of thousands of women. I'm all courage. 💪🏻

But, just like driving up to the base of a mountain, the closer I get to the scary thing that I've agreed to, the bigger it looks and the smaller I feel. 🫣

It's happened with every single big life decision I've ever made. Suddenly, I'm a wreck of fear and what-ifs. I'm absolutely certain that I can't do this after all, and I'm mad at my slightly younger self for writing a big, scary check that I now have to cash. 😠

I know that soon I'll start to feel really scared about moving to Spain, and possibly even have some regrets about the decision.

I know that I'll get really weepy really soon here, and that I'll find myself feeling sentimental about every tiny little thing.

I'll find a sweatshirt that I've never liked and never wear and want to make a quilt out of it. I become a total puddle.🫠 

Actually, I'm pretty sure it's about to happen with the squeaky rocking chair in the girls' nursery that has had MORE than its fair share of milk splashed on it.

I know we need to sell it, but suddenly I'm very attached. “What if we keep it forever and ever and ever and bring it with us to Spain?”

But, because I've done scary things before, I know to recognize this pattern in myself — and how to keep going anyway.

I know that this small, nervous version of me needs a really big hug. She needs to go to bed early. She needs lots of love and tenderness.

But I also know not to put her in the driver's seat.

(She also needs to be supervised when making keep/pack/store/sell decisions. 🤪 She can't totally be trusted.)

In times like these, I try to give myself lots of space to feel my feelings, but I also insist that we (me and all my tender feelings and my sudden, hoarder-like tendencies), keep walking toward the scary thing we've decided to do.

The best, most worthwhile things I've ever done in life have also been the scariest. And so I keep walking — because I know it's worth it.

Franklin D. Roosevelt said “Courage is not the absence of fear but rather the assessment that something else is more important than fear.”

Yes. That. 👆

Can you relate to this? Am I the only one who always wants to chicken out at the 11th hour?

P.S. To catch up on what we're doing in Spain and why we're going, check out this post.

P.P.S. We had a really unconventional Father's Day this year, here's what happened…

Our Father’s Day this year looked a little different from any other year because I wasn’t actually with my father OR my father-in-law, OR with Carl.

Instead, Carl got a rare weekend with just his family of origin (minus one very important sister!)— hanging out with his parents, his brother, and his grandparents and getting some good quality time in before we leave for Spain.⁠
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Honestly — there’s nowhere in the world I’d rather him be.⁠
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The thing is, I thought I’d be parenting (and Spain-prepping) alone this weekend with Carl out of town.⁠
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But instead, I got such a happy surprise when one of my very best friends, Amanda, was assigned a last-minute work trip to Nashville this weekend — AND I was able to cajole another one of my very best friends, Emily, to drive up from Atlanta to hang out with me too.⁠
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All five of us, me, Annie, Quinn, Emily, and Amanda — are the daughters of truly incredible fathers — but… since we couldn’t be with them this weekend… we were thrilled to get to be with each other.⁠

We had an impromptu Girls Weekend and I loved every minute of it.