There Will Never Be a Perfect Moment

You're not going to feel ready.

That's the first thing you need to know. The moment where everything aligns – the money, the timing, the confidence, the clear calendar, the "right" opportunity – it doesn't exist. It never has.

Everyone who's ever done something that changed their life did it before they felt ready.

This is for you. The one who's been thinking about it. Scrolling through our Instagram at 2am. Reading about other people's adventures and wondering if that could ever be you. Adding destinations to a "someday" list that keeps getting longer.

You're waiting for something. We don't know what – maybe you don't either. But whatever it is, it's not coming.

So let's talk about it 🌿

The Excuses (We've Heard Them All)

"I don't have enough money saved."

How much is enough? Seriously. What's the number? Because we've noticed something: the number keeps moving. First it was 5k, then 10k, then "maybe I should wait until I have 6 months of runway." The goal post shifts every time you get close.

Meanwhile, people with half your savings are already on their third country this year.

Money is real. We're not going to pretend it isn't. But "not enough money" is often code for "I'm scared and this is the most acceptable excuse." Be honest with yourself about which one it is.

"My job won't let me work remotely."

Have you asked? Actually asked, not just assumed? And if they say no – is that really a job worth building your life around?

We've met people who negotiated remote work they were told was "impossible." We've met people who quit jobs they thought they needed and found better ones within months. We've met people who took unpaid leave "just to try it" and never went back.

Your job is not your identity. It's an agreement you can renegotiate or end.

"I'll do it when things calm down."

When has your life ever calmed down? When has there ever been a month with nothing happening, no obligations, no reasons to stay put?

There's always something. A wedding to attend. A project to finish. A lease to see through. A family thing. A friend thing. A thing thing.

The chaos doesn't pause. You have to step out of it.

"I'm not adventurous enough."

Says who?

You don't have to be an adrenaline junkie. You don't have to skydive or bungee jump or do anything that terrifies you. Most of what we do is... cook dinner. Go to the beach. Work on our laptops. Have long conversations over wine.

The "adventure" is the decision to go. After that, it's just living – just somewhere more interesting than your apartment.

"What if I don't fit in?"

This one's real. We get it. The fear of showing up somewhere and feeling like you don't belong is brutal.

But here's what we've learned after 200+ guests: the people who worry about fitting in are usually the ones who fit in best.

Because they care. They're thoughtful. They're not assuming everyone will love them – they're hoping to connect and willing to try.

The ones who don't fit in? They never worried about it in the first place.

"I'll do it next year."

You said that last year.

The Real Reasons You're Not Going

Let's get uncomfortable for a second.

The excuses above are real, but they're surface level. Underneath, there's usually something else. Something harder to admit.

You're scared it won't live up to the fantasy.

You've been imagining this life for so long – the freedom, the adventure, the person you'd become – that actually trying it feels risky. What if it's not as good as you imagined? What if you get there and still feel the same?

Here's the truth: it won't be exactly what you imagined. It'll be different. Sometimes better, sometimes harder, always messier. But it will be real. And real beats fantasy every time.

You're scared of what it means if you like it.

If you go and love it, then what? You can't unsee it. You can't go back to pretending your old life was enough. That's terrifying.

But also: isn't that exactly what you want? To find something that makes you feel alive and then figure out how to have more of it?

You're scared of being alone.

Not physically alone – you know there'll be people around. But alone in the decision. Alone in taking a risk your friends and family don't understand. Alone in betting on yourself when no one else is.

That aloneness is real. And it's also temporary. Because the moment you step into a room full of people who made the same scary decision, you're not alone anymore. You're part of something.

You don't think you deserve it.

This one's the quietest and the most destructive.

Somewhere along the way, you picked up the idea that adventures are for other people. That you need to earn it first. That you should wait until you're more successful, more together, more... something.

You don't. You're allowed to have an incredible experience right now, exactly as you are. Not as a reward. Just because you're alive and this is available to you.

What Actually Happens When You Go

We've watched this play out hundreds of times. The pattern is almost predictable.

Week one: You're nervous. Jet-lagged. Wondering if you made a mistake. Sitting slightly outside the group, testing the waters, not sure if these people are your people.

Week two: Something shifts. You stop performing. You start showing up as yourself. Someone makes you laugh so hard you snort. Someone shares something vulnerable and you realize you're not the only one who feels that way.

Week three: You can't imagine leaving. The group chat is chaotic. You have inside jokes. You've cooked together, danced together, had 4am conversations about things you've never told anyone. These strangers aren't strangers anymore.

Week four: The goodbye dinner. Tears. Promises to meet again. A feeling you can't quite name but don't want to let go of. And underneath it: the quiet knowledge that you did it. You actually did it.

After: You go home different. Not fixed – nobody's fixed. But shifted. Something unlocked. A version of yourself you didn't know was in there, now impossible to ignore.

The People Who Actually Book

We've noticed patterns in who says yes.

It's not the most confident people. It's not the ones with the most money or the most flexible jobs or the most travel experience.

It's the ones who are tired.

Tired of waiting. Tired of watching other people live the life they want. Tired of the same conversations, the same routine, the same Sunday night dread.

They're not fearless. They're just more scared of staying the same than of trying something new.

That's it. That's the only difference.

If You're Reading This at 2am

We know who you are.

You've been on our website before. Maybe you filled out half the form and closed the tab. Maybe you've read every testimonial, looked at every photo, done the math on whether you can afford it three different times.

You're waiting for something to tip you over the edge. A sign. Permission. Someone to tell you it's okay.

So here it is: it's okay.

You're allowed to want this. You're allowed to be scared and do it anyway. You're allowed to spend money on an experience instead of saving it for some hypothetical future. You're allowed to take up space, make friends, have adventures, eat too much pasta.

You don't need to know if it's the right decision. You just need to make a decision.

The right-ness comes after.

This Is the Moment

Not the perfect one. There's no such thing.

But this one. Right now. The one where you're reading this and something in your chest is saying yes.

Your calendar will never magically clear. Your savings will never feel like enough. Your job will never suddenly become okay with you leaving. Your fears will never fully dissolve.

The people who do this aren't the ones who waited until everything was perfect. They're the ones who went anyway.

What's Actually Stopping You?

Not the excuses. The real thing.

Name it. Say it out loud. Write it down.

And then ask yourself: is that thing more important than finding out what's on the other side?

One More Year of the Same

Picture this: it's December 2026. A full year from now.

You're in the same apartment. Same job. Same routine. Same Sunday nights dreading Monday. Same scroll through Instagram looking at other people's adventures.

And you're thinking about that coliving you almost booked. The one that seemed crazy. The one you decided to wait on until things "calmed down."

How does that feel?

Now picture the alternative.

It's December 2026. You went. You had the month of your life. You made friends you still talk to every day. You have photos you can't stop looking at. You figured out that you actually can do this – and you're already planning the next one.

Same year. Completely different story.

You get to choose which one.