In the spring of 1999, one of my French classes was visited by a professor to talk about a summer study abroad program to Bourges. It was exciting and fascinating, and I really wanted to do it. I came out of that class energized, but then my boyfriend at the time was unhappy about it, and I found out that I couldn’t get any non-loan financial aid for it. At that point, my scholarships and grants had covered all of my schooling, so I didn’t have any loans, and I didn’t want to take any. I gave up the dream of that program.

Maybe a month to six weeks later, my class was revisited by the professor, who brought one of the host parents with her and a slideshow of photos from Bourges. This internal fire lit inside me, and I knew I needed to go on that trip. I ignored my boyfriend’s objections, ignored my uneasiness in getting a loan, and I chose myself for the first time in my life. It felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, not knowing what was in front of me, and stepping forward instead of back into the safety of my comfort zone. I’d never, ever done that, and it turned out to be one of the best things I’ve ever done in my life.

I rarely get those moments of urgency, where I need to do something. The need often has nothing to do with true need – I didn’t need to study abroad for any practical reason, and it left me worse off financially – but with something more ephemeral. Yet it feels more urgent and important than true need-based decisions. And while I’ve rarely gotten these moments, I’ve never regretted acting on them, while I definitely regret when I don’t act on them.

Two weeks ago, I came to another precipice. I was feeling a lot of wanderlust after our Alaska vacation. It was too short, and I was sick for the main portion of it. I wasn’t ready to come back to real life. (Or the Texas heat!) The cruise line we book through was in the middle of a big sale, and I decided to look into potential solo trips, possibly back to Alaska to re-experience the areas where I was sick and hadn’t done much. Wanderlust led me to exploring all sorts of destinations, most of which didn’t feel right. Eventually, I saw that there was a flash deal of “second passenger no charge” on a particular ship that made one-way trips up and down the Alaska coast. I thought that if I took two trips – one up and one down, so it would be roundtrip – I could just pay for my own passage rather than for double occupancy. Then I was annoyed that the price for me alone more than doubled the cost of each leg of the trip (aka I would pay more going alone than I would pay for both Jason and me to go). I guess the flash sale didn’t apply to solo travelers.

Now, if I’d called the cruise line, I probably could have worked with them. But again, I was frickin’ annoyed. I started researching the best cruise lines for solo travelers and then looking into those lines. I found some really awesome itineraries – and it opened my eyes to future possibilities on different cruise lines – but it wasn’t until I searched Virgin Voyages on a whim that I stepped out onto a precipice.

October. Round-trip from Barcelona, a week-long trip around the Mediterranean, hitting stops in France, Italy, and Spain. Here’s the thing – I’d seen a LOT of itineraries like this on various cruise lines, often for cheaper (because Virgin is an all-inclusive line that is higher tier pricing), and I hadn’t been interested in them. I’ve been to France and Italy. I’d like to see more places that I haven’t been to already. But this second I saw this specific trip on these specific dates, something inside me clicked. This was the one. This was right. This was important.

Y’all. I don’t solo-travel. I’m agoraphobic. I’m terrified to travel to new places alone. Every time I’ve traveled alone, it’s been to a place where I’m meeting up with someone, or a place that I already know. I’ve literally never traveled anywhere completely by myself. Flying into Barcelona, to a country where I don’t speak the language, completely solo, is terrifying. Even if Barcelona is cosmopolitan, even if it’s safe, even if it’s used to tourists. It’s terrifying. But the urge wouldn’t leave me, so I did a soft sign-up: a booking with a 24-hour hold where I would have to confirm before it actually went through. I had a day to decide to step off the precipice, or sink back into safety.

Long story short (too late!), I did it. I’ll be flying to Barcelona alone in October, traveling around the Mediterranean, on a new-to-me cruise line that brilliantly didn’t charge me any extra costs at all for solo occupancy. I won’t have Jason or my family to fall back on. For a week (or perhaps longer, so I can adjust to the time zone before the cruise portion starts), I’ll be completely reliant on myself for everything, for all the hard things, for all the new and unknown things.

When I read An American in Provence recently, I came across a passage that spoke to me (and ironically, came across it the day before I found this particular trip):

Who said easy is good? Easy erases experience! Easy paves the road from point A to point B without any discomfort, leaving you no room for adventure.

Well, y’all. I guess adventure is the choice I made this time.