The things we love the most are often the same which hold us back.

I have always had an overall life plan. Go to college. Graduate. Get a job. Maybe fall in love in between.

I wanted to graduate college at 22, go for my masters and be done by 23, 24. I also had hoped I would find the dream job along the way, too.

I wanted to get married by the time I was 26 so I could have children and be done with that phase of life by 30.

I was of the mindset that if the whole “love” ordeal didn’t happen in college, I could push that plan back a bit, maybe not have kids—I’m fine with a few fur-babies running around. But that was negotiable.

I was certain I wanted to stay in the area. Why leave? I’ve enjoyed my time and I had roots here; my friends, family, support system. I also had very practical reasons that tend to keep me grounded in my hometown—probably reasons most people my age wouldn't find as restricting as I do. But nonetheless, I was happy. Content. What else is there?

While in college though, I have visited a few new places that have not so many farms and taller buildings. I’ve been to big cities with fast pace life styles and very quaint, but welcoming towns that have a lot of history.

Every new place I go to, and every place I revisit, I find a small piece of me falls in love with the area.

I’m not the girl totally consumed by wanderlust. At least I wasn't.

I saw myself staying in the area with my little country home, with the white picket fence, golden retriever running through the yard with my 2.5 kids. I saw myself with the match set rocking chair with my husband, drinking coffee and reading the paper on Saturday mornings.

I had envisioned myself being a stay at home mom in part, working from home writing. Then when my children were older I had hoped to move my work out of the home and have a “conventional” job.

Very exciting.

That was me circa 2013.

In 2016, I’m not so sure. When I started college I never thought the options in my field would be so vast. I had assumed I would find that job that paid the bills, wasn’t awful but also wasn't the “dream” and would let me have the family life I had dreamed about since I was a child.

I'm not so sure now if settling for paying the bills what I want. I’m not so sure my hometown of 2,500 people is enough.

I’m not even sure if I want to stay where I am, do what I’m currently doing.

I’m torn between the life plan that seemed so perfect and the change I could have before me.

I’m torn because the life plan was safe, the life plan was fine. The life plan was a near guarantee.

But I don't want a sure thing.

I want to wake up excited about what I do. I want the stress in my life to be a positive thing, not the thing that cripples me into questioning every move I make--or don’t

I envy the people who have the courage to do the things that scare them and to take leaps of faith.

I’m ready to jump, hopefully I don't fall.