San Francisco, California

After years of talk, my good friend David and I have decided that now is the time. We’re leaving routine behind and embarking on a road trip from San Francisco to Patagonia. 

With our departure date a mere three months away, excitement couldn’t be higher as images of tropical surf and Andean landscapes run rampant in our minds. But, despite those blissful daydreams, this adventure also carries a clear cost since our girlfriends, jobs, and apartments will all remain here. And with each thing that we love left behind, a dull pang of doubt creeps in, nearly audible as it takes hold, seeming to ask, “You sure about this, bud?”

Nevertheless, we’ve committed. And our willingness to do so begs the question:

Why do we do this to ourselves?

Home is lovely. Work is great. Friends are great. Comfort is great. Family is great. So why? Why can’t we quiet the burning thought that the least sensible thing to do is to remain where we are?

Many have spoken to the inherent sense of adventure, of wonder, inside us all. Others attribute it to the very real cognitive fear of missing out. Yet, those don’t quite seem to match our reality, and I, therefore, want to posit an alternative motivation. One that accounts not just for the emotions of the spirit that compel us to pursue the unknown, but, rather, weighs the factors of our circumstances to describe the metaphorical wind at our backs pushing us towards betraying the comfortable for the anxious.

Anxiety comes in many forms, of which that set on by choosing to pursue long-term travel is likely the mildest. Even still, the feelings of trepidation and doubt are there all the same. And the self-questioning is relentless. Given that despite our eager state such anxiety remains tangible, we have reached the conclusion that the crux of what makes us sail the seas of consequence is centered around this: 

Voluntary anxiety. 

Voluntary anxiety is a privilege. Electing to lie awake at night questioning yourself over your choice to pursue rare experiences is something that few have, and fewer still realize they have. And it is exactly the type of scenario within which we now find ourselves.

So when is it time to exchange comfort for this voluntary state of concern and excitement? Recognition that you have the means/time/interest in abandoning the comfortable for the uncomfortable is the first step. It gives the voice in your head telling you to “go” its ammunition. And once it has that fodder, you’re going. Or you’re going crazy. The choice, at that point, shifts quickly from “should I stay or leave” to “when am I leaving?” We’ve answered this call, and have spent the last few months preparing for a trip that’s whispered to us for years. It’s a scary feeling, but it’s a fear that we are privileged to feel. And once we understood that, we knew that we could make no better choice.

A long road still lies between us and the long road we plan to explore. But we now barrel towards our departure with the peaceful confidence of knowing, above all, that we’re among the few lucky ones who get to experience anxiety by choice.