Anxiety Rides Shotgun

Pre-Trip Static 

I’m not sure how to approach this blog — every idea seems to fizzle out before it even starts. 
I’m heading on a trip halfway across the country to take some photos and blog about a 3-day music festival called Miles of Music. 
It’s a far stretch from home — about 13 hours from my doorstep. Luckily I lose an hour on the way, but the distnace remains the same. 

In a way, I feel completely prepared for this adventure. 
I’ve been experimenting with different types of shooting — exposures, longer lenses — and I’ve added a few new items to my gear bag to cover most situations I might stumble into. 

Still, even as ready as I am, the anxiety’s rumbling beneath my feet. 

“What if I forget something?” 
”What if I get a flat tire in the middle of nowhere?” 

There’s no room for these thoughts — but somehow they still crash in without warning. 

The Split Inside 

This isn’t stopping me — and resistance is a son of a bitch with puppy dog eyes and razor-sharp teeth. 

It lures you in before the kill and makes you say, “Fuck it, this isn’t worth my time.” 

These times are uncomfortable. You feel split between two worlds. 

The little bitch inside you says you can’t — and the rational side of your brain is just watching. 

It’s like you’re the specimen in your own science experiment. 
Observing is easy, but emotions fuel the fire — they make irrational decisions feel logical. 

No Waiting for Perfect 

Will I not go? 
Fuck that. I’ve worked too hard to get to this point — I’m not about to live another day, week, month, or year being afraid to step outside my comfort zone. 

“The hours are counting down until takeoff. 
Have I packed everything I need?” 

The only answer is to follow through and swing big. 
Things will never be perfect. 

I an aptitude to overanalyze and overthink most situations — waiting for the right time, the perfect opportunity — before showing the world what I worked so hard for. 

It’s worked before, but it takes too much time. 
I can’t keep waiting for perfect. 

I’m as ready as I’ve ever been — and I’ve learned I get further by driving the beast than I ever did examining it. 

The journey is the learning. Isn’t that the whole point? 

The Ride Ahead 

In this case, I’m navigating this beast alone. 
For the first time in my life, I’m driving out of state by myself. 

For some, that’s easy. For others, it’s terrifying. 

For me, I’m my own test subject — and I’ve got the ability to observe my own conditions. 

It’s a mixed bag: anxiety and the quiet confidence that I’ll be fine. 

And still, those odd emotional bursts creep in, whispering bullshit in my ear just to remind me they’re still there. 

I stop for a few moments, wondering as I type. . . 

“Is any of this any good?” 
“Why does my mind seem to be fighting itself right now?” 

Who knows — maybe that’s the whole reason I started blogging to begin with. 
Will it be good? I have no idea. 

But I do know this: by doing what I’m doing, I’m hopefully either telling a relatable story to someone who needs to hear it, documenting a person’s life within a moment in time, or scratching that itch I always have to do. 

In the end, I always feel that little dopamine hit after finishing something I said I would do. 

I pause again. . . 
“What were we talking about?” 
Ah — the trip. 

Tomorrow and the days ahead are a big step for me. 
I’m going way of my paper box — doing something of that magnitude… In my 42 years, something like this has always felt just out of reach. 

I’m excited to see what’s on the other side of this. 
The content. The moments. The experience. 

Tomorrow…

A 13-hour drive locked in — caffeine, anxiety, and a trunk full of gear chasing three days of magic. 
Two days wired on instinct, chasing moments like prey, bleeding shutter clicks and sweat. 
I ride the beast tomorrow.