Leaping Into the Unknown

I am, by nature, a very cautious person. Always have been. I need to have contingency plans. I need Plans A through Z, even if I never use them, I need them. If I look at an opportunity, weigh the risks and find the risks too great, I can’t do it.

And now, for more than one reason, I’m contemplating a job change and a move, knowing full well it won’t be easy. I have no doubt that it will be tough, that I will find myself alone more often than not. I know that it will be a while before I have any type of life outside of my children in a new town with no friends. I won’t know where anything is, and I’ll have to teach myself, figure it out myself, struggle myself. I’ll spend a lot of time and energy making sure my children are adjusting and taken care of, and I know I’ll forget myself in the process – it’s a parent thing.

I’m looking at two possible positions that I know, in theory, that I can do, but there will still be a learning curve. I will no longer be the expert that I’m perceived to be at my current job, I will no longer be the go-to woman. I am willingly walking into a possible situation where I will be the outsider – I won’t know who to trust, I won’t know who’s friend or foe. I won’t anything or anyone.

I’m preparing to leap into a vast unknown. Part of me is scared – I’d be stupid not to be. Part of me is excited – the idea of starting over fresh somewhere, doing new things, learning new things, meeting new people, doing it completely on my own, it’s exhilarating.

I can foresee all of the negative – being alone, struggling to get the childcare thing right, proving myself to a new set of people, making friends (not something I do easily). But none of that deters me. When it comes to my mind, I acknowledge it as fact and tell myself that I will figure it out.

Who am I? When did I become bold? When did I become brave?

I’m the overthinker. I’m the one who paralyzes myself with too many what-if’s. I’m the one who often has to be cajoled and led into new situations. I have to be forced out of my shell. Aren’t I? I don’t know who I am anymore.

I’m baffled by my own daring, but I’m not slowing down. I’m not looking back. I’m not worrying. Of course, I wish I wasn’t doing it alone, but the thought of being able to look back one day and say, “Look what I did!” makes it bearable.

Is this my way of handling my grief? Bold, decisive, complete change? Have I simply had too much stress, too much sadness in this place? Am I running away from something or running to something? Does it matter?

I’m leaping – with my eyes and arms wide open.

About the author

Kayla Lords

I am a sex blogger, podcaster, freelance writer, international speaker, kink educator, and all-around kinky woman. You can find me online sharing my innermost sexual thoughts and experiences, teaching other bloggers how to make money writing about sex, and helping kinksters have happy healthy BDSM relationships. I'm also a masochistic babygirl submissive with an amazing and sadistic Daddy Dom and business partner, John Brownstone. Welcome to my kinky corner of the internet!


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