So I spent $1,300 on a flight to Paris yesterday.

I’ve always claimed to be nomadic. My Tumblr is jam-packed with quotes about wanderlust and your most basic adventurous photos, so when the opportunity to study abroad came about, I had no hangups.

Until it came to scheduling my flight. Until I realized I will not see my cats for six weeks. Until I realized I will be sharing a room with a complete stranger in a strange place. Until I realized I’m not that good at French. Until I realized I won’t have a job when I return. Until I realized I’m going to miss my bed.

It was at this point that I realized I am completely petrified to be leaving home for six weeks. Although my idealist brain has tried to convince me otherwise, this is completely out of my comfort zone. I’ve already paid for my program. I’ve taken out a loan and submitted my written commitment to participate, and I was seriously considering backing out.

But then I remembered my boyfriend Tanner making fun of his friend for never leaving his hometown last week. I remembered the guts it took for us to leave our families and move across the country and away from everyone we’ve ever known.

I thought that move would be the hardest thing I’ve ever done — and it was hard, but Tanner is in my comfort zone, and travelling abroad alone simply is not.

When I talked to him about my concerns, he said, “Life begins at the end of your comfort zone.”

This has proven extremely true over the past few months. Although you guys are adorable, running around campus to convince you all to vote “yes” for a $5 student fee was by no means comfortable. Standing up in front of your 300-person lectures was certainly not cozy, but it paid off.

And I had a revelation. I have nothing to be afraid of. I will return from Paris in one piece and I will want to go back. I will be forever kicking myself if I don’t take this amazing opportunity. I have my whole life to work. I won’t be spending those six weeks in my crammed Paris apartment. I will be experiencing European history and culture and learning the language that I’ve come to admire.

Even if I hate Paris (which I highly doubt that I will), the trip will end and I will return home to my comfort zone.