What I Learned in Barcelona... Living Fearlessly: It Hurts Less Than You Think

Sometimes it's a Selfie Season. Be your best Selfie!

I've been holding off on writing my first Barcelona blog post because it feels like a baby. They always say there's never a good time to have a baby and this is my baby. I've been waiting to have enough time on my hands to actually do the trip a little justice with the skill of my pen keys. Instead of giving you a play-by-play of my days (don't you worry, there is a meticulously detailed and fabulous food guide coming... because I pretty much spent all my time eating and then killed time knocking around town until I got to eat again) I felt like it would be easier for me to paint with broad brush strokes. So here we go. Brush stroke numero uno.

For any of you who know me, you know I hate being alone. My mom hates it when I use the word "hate" because she says it's "a very strong word." Good, then in this case, I'll use the word hate. I hate being alone. Perhaps that's why I'm a twin. Before I even entered the world, I had a wombmate. Fast forward to Barcelona. In my mind, I was jetting off to the home of espadrilles, tapas, and tall, dark and handsome men who make riding scooters look rugged. I didn't think through the fact that my friend who coordinated this trip-- her name will not be disclosed due to the fact that she smuggled me into her hotel room--would be working the whole time. Hence, a work trip. In the magazine world, "work" trip is a word used verrrry loosely. In my experience, work trips meant shopping, eating, drinking, and playing on someone else's tab. Hello, corporate card. But at her job, you actually work on work trips. While she was busy shaking her money maker, I was on my own.

When you have no one else to distract you, you learn so much about yourself. When you don't have an iPhone to distract you, you really learn a lot about yourself. My electronic security blanket was gone. There were no longer texts to make look busy and an Instagram feed to keep me from feeling alone. So, I did the unthinkable. I lived like it was the 90s! Meal times quickly became my favorite part of the day-- befriending the waiters, the table next to me, and best of all, myself! Challenge yourself to go out to eat alone just once, no cell phone. You'll be surprised how much you learn about yourself. And how naked you feel without a phone (the panic will wear off, trust me). I quickly realized that my world that typically feels so big and all-consuming isn't really that big. It is actually tiny. I also realized that I have nothing to fear. I came back to Spain with my bags full of retail treasures (new suede booties proudly perched in my closet) and my heart empty of fear. I left caring what people think about me in Spain. I don't care what people think anymore.

I'm tired of not getting to live the greatest adventure God has for me because I'm afraid of what people will think. I used to care more about their opinion than the great adventure. Now, getting to the end of my life with adventures that were never lived, that terrifies me. Not living full-throttle because you're afraid of what people may think really just means you're signing up for an average existence paralyzed by not rocking the boat. What a loss. I'm jumping ship.

Come find me. I might be sitting at a table alone, loving every second of it.