Two months today until I begin my 6 months of solo travel. One week until my final pay for the year and three weeks until I move out of Bree’s house which I’ve been living my best single life in for the past two years (I could possibly be lying about the ‘best’ part. I’m currently alone watching Love Island UK, eating chocolate on the couch in my activewear). To say I have mixed emotions about leaving would be an understatement.

My rough plan at this stage is to drive across the Nullabor, spend a couple of months travelling around W.A., fly to Singapore to meet a friend, then travel around Europe (very broad I know), and finish off in Africa. With $30,000 in the bank and the old pay check ending soon, I’m hoping this will be feasible. Fingers crossed.

I’m feeling proud of myself for finally having the balls to tell my boss I’m not coming back to teaching in 2020. I’m also feeling slightly terrified that I did this as I will be returning at the end of 2020 jobless with no real idea of what I want to do. I get huge waves of excitement when I chat to friends about their travel experiences and whenever I start planning. I’ve also been getting serious fomo whenever anyone discusses plans for the time I’ll be away.