The closer my Japan trip gets, the louder the mix of excitement and fear becomes. I’ve dreamed of seeing Kyoto’s temples and Tokyo’s city lights for a lifetime. Yet now that it’s real, my chest tightens the same way it did the first time I left home. Change, even the good kind, always wakes something deep inside me.
For weeks, I’ve been asking myself what this trip really means. Maybe it isn’t just about travel at all — maybe it’s about trust. Trusting myself to step into the unknown. Trusting that the world will hold me when I wander. Trusting that my soul knows what it’s doing, even when my mind spins with what-ifs.
This trip is my invitation to expand beyond control and step into flow. To let the universe guide me through the neon nights and sacred mornings. To show myself that freedom can be safe, and safety can be found anywhere I choose to breathe.
When I land in Tokyo, I’ll whisper the same prayer I’ve been writing in my journal for weeks:
“I am brave enough to live the life I once only dreamed of.”
And maybe, just maybe, that’s the real destination….
Facing Fear with Faith
I’ve never been this far from home before. Never traveled internationally. Never been away from my comfort, my cat, my routines, or the cozy rhythm of my Charleston lifestyle for this long. Something about it unsettles me — but just as it unsettles me, it also awakens me. It’s that strange middle place between fear and freedom, the place where growth always seems to live.
As the flight draws closer, I can feel that mix of fear and excitement buzzing under my skin. It’s almost electric. I’m a huge sensory person — lights, sounds, energy, all of it hits me deeply — and with my ADHD brain and a sprinkle of anxiety (okay, maybe more than a sprinkle lol), travel doesn’t always feel easy. I hate flying, honestly. I hate the feeling of surrendering control, of letting something in the air carry me thousands of miles away from everything familiar. There’s a part of me that wants to hold on tight, to grip the armrest and the illusion of safety. But lately, a softer voice inside me keeps whispering, “You’re not meant to control this one. You’re meant to experience it.”
I’ve been sitting with that a lot. Because when I really look back, I can see that fear has never been the villain I thought it was. It’s been a doorway — one that always leads to expansion, not collapse. Every time I’ve said yes to something that scared me — moving to Charleston, starting my real estate career, sharing my story publicly, launching my podcast — it’s stretched me into a stronger, freer version of myself.
Japan feels like the next initiation. A deeper trust fall into my own becoming. A chance to let go of the edges I’ve outgrown and allow life — and the universe — to carry me somewhere new. & to sprinkle a little bit of faith in all of you<3
Leaving to Remember
There’s a certain beauty in stepping away from your “real life.” Not to escape it — but to remember it.
Lately, I’ve been learning how to take better care of myself. Eating well, moving my body, journaling, protecting my peace — all the things that feel like becoming a healthier, more grounded version of me. And honestly, I’ve come so far. But even in all this growth, I can feel something stirring — a quiet whisper that says, there’s still more.
It’s not that anything is wrong. My days are full of purpose and gratitude. But sometimes comfort becomes too comfortable. When life starts to feel too routine, even in the best way, it’s easy to stop truly seeing it. The mornings, the coffee, the sunsets — they blur into muscle memory. I’ve realized I’ve been living in a loop of “almost,” standing right on the edge of change but not fully stepping through it yet.
That’s why I think I’m being called to go.
Travel has a way of shaking the dust off your soul. It jolts you back into presence. It forces you to notice the small things again and how much is still waiting to unfold. There’s something about being a stranger in a foreign place that humbles you. You listen differently. You soften. You stop trying to predict what’s next. You learn to trust yourself in new ways — and in that trust, you start to find the missing pieces.
Maybe that’s why travel changes us: because it gives us distance — not from our lives, but from the noise surrounding them. It gives us space to hear our own hearts again.
Surrender, Softness, and Showing Up
Japan, for me, is about surrender. It’s about letting go of control and remembering that peace doesn’t come from knowing the plan, it comes from trusting the unknown.
I know there will be days when I’ll feel overwhelmed — when the language barrier feels intimidating, when my anxiety spikes, when the unfamiliar feels too big. But that’s when I’ll take a breath, look around, and remind myself: You’re safe. You’re growing. You’re allowed to enjoy this.
I’ll walk through temples, breathe in incense, taste matcha in quiet cafés, and let myself slow down enough to feel awe again. I will be finally have time to surrender myself to the culture i am immersed in. That’s where the beauty of softness opens.
Coming Home Cleansed
I keep thinking about the version of me who will land back in Charleston after this trip. She’ll unpack her suitcase and realize she’s brought home more than souvenirs. She’ll have stories tucked into her sleeves, clarity woven through her thoughts, and a new kind of calm stitched into her nervous system.
Because travel doesn’t just show you the world — it shows you yourself. It cracks you open in the most unexpected ways. It reminds you how brave you are, how adaptable you can be, and how deeply capable you are of handling the unknown. It teaches you that home isn’t only a place; it’s a feeling you carry — in your body, in your spirit, in the way you breathe when you finally trust that you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.
I think this trip will teach me that the things I’ve been dreaming about aren’t far away; they’re waiting for me to believe I deserve them. That the opportunities in front of me — the ones that sparkle with both excitement and fear — are not coincidences. They’re invitations. To leap. To say yes. To stop waiting for the “right time” and just live the life that’s calling.
So when I step onto that plane, I’ll whisper the same mantra that’s been sitting in the back of my journal pages for weeks:
“I am brave enough to live the life I once only dreamed of.”
And maybe that’s what this whole season of life is really about — learning that sometimes you have to go far to come home. To yourself. To your truth. To the version of you that’s been waiting patiently beneath the noise, ready to emerge.
Here’s to the becoming, the in-between, and the magic that happens when you finally trust the journey. ️
Going far to come home.
xoxo,
Alli ❤
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