Yesterday, I got nervous.
An unknown number of months from now, Allan and I will quit our jobs. Most of our belongings already will have been moved out of our apartment. We'll put our dogs and a few essentials in a car, and drive to our new home. Our new lives will start, with rent and all the other expenses that entails, but we won't have jobs.
Rationally, intellectually, I know the answer to this. We have a lot of money saved, and I have very good reason to believe we'll find good jobs without too much difficulty. Before we do, we can temp - which we plan to do shortly after arriving.
I have a lot of confidence that when I make changes in my life, I make them work. I've always landed on my feet. I have a wealth of experience to look back on if I need reminding of that. Ninety percent of me knows all this.
But there's that little 10%... and yesterday it woke up.
We'll have no jobs. We'll have to find a vet. A dogwalker. Get Buster his meds. Get our own meds. A new bank account. New driver's licenses. New...
Stop! That way madness lies.
Don't get me wrong, this has nothing to do with our decision to emigrate. I feel great about that, even more so as time goes on. And this nervousness doesn't stop me from doing anything. I just need to acknowledge the feelings, then move along. "OK, this is the part where I get panicky..."
My way of dealing with these feelings is to not look too far ahead. There's the goal, far in the future. Plan the next two steps, take those. Now you're two steps closer. Plan the next two steps. Take those. And onward.