In less than two weeks, I am getting on a plane and going to Costa Rica.

Even typing that feels weird.

I'm 43 years old, and I have never traveled outside of the United States. Actually, I've barely traveled inside the United States. I've been to maybe three other states in my entire life. I'm not exactly someone who has spent decades collecting passport stamps and casually saying things like, "When I was in Europe..."

Nope.

Pennsylvania.

I've done Pennsylvania very thoroughly.

And now I'm apparently jumping from that to Costa Rica.

There is a part of me that is incredibly excited about this trip. I want the warmth. I want the tropical scenery. I want to see the rainforest. I want to sit on a beach and stare at water that doesn't look anything like what I'm used to seeing at home. I want to take pictures for The Messy Middle. I want to experience a completely different place and come home with stories I couldn't have gotten by staying comfortable.

But if I'm being completely truthful, excitement isn't the loudest emotion right now.

Anxiety is.

I'm nervous.

Like, really nervous.

And sometimes I feel almost guilty about that because this is supposed to be exciting. I'm going to Costa Rica! People dream about trips like this. I should be counting down the days, bouncing around the house, and packing bathing suits.

Instead, my brain is over here producing a full-length documentary called Everything That Could Possibly Go Wrong Abroad.

Because apparently my anxiety also works as a travel agent.

First-Time International Travel Anxiety Is Weird

There are normal things I'm nervous about.

The airport. Packing. Forgetting something. Being somewhere unfamiliar. Navigating another country. Not knowing exactly what to expect.

And then there are the things my anxious brain has decided we should discuss repeatedly.

Safety.

Men.

Being a woman in another country.

Human trafficking.

Someone taking me.

Not making it home.

That's a real fear for me.

I can logically understand that anxiety tends to grab onto the scariest possible outcome and treat it like it's waiting around the corner. I can remind myself that millions of people travel internationally. I can research. I can prepare. I can take reasonable safety precautions.

And still, my brain can whisper:

But what if?

That's the frustrating thing about anxiety. Logic doesn't always shut it up.

I don't want to dismiss legitimate travel safety concerns, either. Being aware of your surroundings, researching where you're staying, keeping track of your belongings, staying connected to someone you trust, and making thoughtful decisions matter when you're traveling.

Elizabeth has actually helped with that part. She's a travel advisor, and she's reached out to people with more specific knowledge of Costa Rica to help us make informed decisions about where we're staying and other parts of the trip.

That makes me feel better.

Not anxiety-free.

But better.

And right now, I'll take better.

I'm Also Traveling With Someone I'm Still Getting to Know

Then there's another layer to this adventure.

Elizabeth and I haven't known each other for years. I met her a couple of months ago.

We're still getting to know each other.

And apparently we've decided the logical next step in a new friendship is to leave the country together for a week.

Seems reasonable.

There's a part of me that's nervous about that too.

What if she gets sick of me?

Because I know myself.

I can be a lot.

My energy can be everywhere. My brain can be everywhere. I can talk a lot. I can get excited. I can get overwhelmed. Sometimes I need quiet. Sometimes I need space. Sometimes I'm ready to do seventeen things and sometimes my brain says, Actually, we're done now.

She hasn't spent seven consecutive days with me.

I haven't spent seven consecutive days with her.

We're about to learn some things.

But underneath the anxiety, I'm actually hopeful about this part.

I think traveling together might make our friendship stronger. When you travel with someone, you don't just see their going-out-for-lunch version. You see tired. Hungry. Stressed. Excited. Running late. Lost. Overstimulated. Half asleep.

Basically, we're skipping a few friendship levels.

She's asked me to help take videos and content for her travel business while we're there, and I'm happy to do that. I'm also hoping she'll help me capture some photos and content for The Messy Middle.

Maybe by the time we come home, we'll have a million inside jokes and a much stronger friendship.

Or she'll block me at baggage claim.

We'll find out.

And Apparently I'm Going Ziplining

This might be my favorite example of how ridiculous I am.

I am afraid of heights.

So naturally, I have agreed to zipline through Costa Rica.

Make it make sense.

The idea absolutely terrifies me. I can already picture myself standing there wondering what possessed me to voluntarily attach my body to a cable high above the ground.

But I want to try.

That's the important part.

I don't know if my anxiety will let me do it until I'm actually standing there. I'm not going to pretend I'm fearless because I'm definitely not.

I just want to give myself the opportunity.

I want to be able to say, I did that.

And maybe courage isn't confidently jumping off the platform.

Maybe courage is standing there with shaking legs thinking, I hate every decision that brought me here, and jumping anyway.

We'll see.

There may be screaming.

There will almost certainly be profanity.

Hopefully there's video.

How I'm Managing Travel Anxiety Before Costa Rica

I'm not doing anything revolutionary to prepare myself mentally.

Mostly, I'm talking.

I'm talking to Elizabeth about my worries instead of pretending I don't have them. I'm doing a lot of self-talk. I'm reminding myself that being scared doesn't automatically mean something is unsafe.

I'm also trying to separate preparation from catastrophizing.

Preparation says: Let's research where we're staying.

Anxiety says: We're definitely getting kidnapped.

Those are not the same thing.

And when my thoughts start getting ahead of me during the trip, I already know one grounding technique I'll use: 5-4-3-2-1 grounding.

Five things I can see.

Four things I can feel.

Three things I can hear.

Two things I can smell.

One thing I can taste.

It's simple, but that's the point. Instead of mentally traveling into every possible disaster, I'm forcing my attention back into the moment I'm actually standing in.

And honestly?

I'm going to be in freaking Costa Rica.

If there were ever a place to use my senses, this seems like a pretty good one.

Look at the trees.

Listen to the birds.

Feel the sun.

Smell the ocean.

See what's actually happening around me instead of whatever movie my anxiety is playing inside my head.

I'm Kind of Just Jumping and Hoping I Land Somewhere

That's probably the most accurate description of how I'm preparing for this entire thing.

I'm winging it.

There is a plan, obviously. We know where we're going. We're researching. We're making safety-conscious decisions. I'm making lists because if I don't make lists, there's a decent chance I'll arrive internationally without something extremely important.

But emotionally?

I'm jumping.

I've done that a lot in my life.

Sometimes I don't have everything figured out before I move. Sometimes I know just enough to take the next step and trust that I'll figure out the rest when I get there.

Maybe that's what this trip represents more than anything.

I'm doing something I've never done before.

At 43.

I think sometimes we quietly convince ourselves that certain experiences were supposed to happen earlier.

Traveling abroad.

Trying adventurous things.

Meeting new people.

Building new friendships.

Changing careers.

Starting over.

Doing things that scare the hell out of us.

But there isn't an expiration date on having a first.

Costa Rica gets to be mine.

When Anxiety Is Louder Than Excitement

This is probably the part I want another anxious person to hear the most.

You can want something and still be afraid of it.

You can be grateful for an opportunity and still have anxiety about it.

You can know you're probably going to have an incredible time and still spend the weeks before leaving imagining everything that could go wrong.

Fear doesn't necessarily mean you don't want to go.

Right now, my nerves are overpowering some of my excitement.

I'm hoping that changes when I get there.

Maybe I'll walk onto the beach, look around and finally have that moment where my body realizes:

Oh.

We're okay.

We're actually doing this.

Maybe the excitement will finally have enough room to get louder.

What I'm Hoping to Bring Home

Obviously, I'd like to bring myself home.

Let's start there.

Preferably with all limbs intact after ziplining.

But I want to bring home more than pictures and souvenirs.

I want proof that I can do things that scare me.

I want memories from somewhere completely unfamiliar.

I want ridiculous stories.

I want beautiful photos.

I want moments where I forget to check my phone because whatever is in front of me is better.

I want to sit on a beach somewhere far away from Pennsylvania and feel warm sun on my face and think, Holy shit. I actually came here.

I want to see tropical plants and wildlife and places I've only ever seen through somebody else's pictures.

I want to learn something about Elizabeth.

I want her to learn something about me.

And I'm hoping we come home better friends than when we left.

Mostly, though, I want to meet the version of myself who actually went.

Because right now I only know the woman who's nervous about Costa Rica.

Soon I'll get to know the woman who did Costa Rica.

Maybe she zip-lined.

Maybe she stood on the platform and said absolutely fucking not.

Either one will make a good article.

And that's the nice thing about this trip: I don't actually know how the story ends yet.

For once, I'm writing from the middle of it.

That feels pretty fitting.

Follow my journey.

This is the before.

When I come home, I'll tell you what actually happened—the beaches, the rainforest, the friendship, the anxiety, the adventures, the things that went completely wrong, the things that went better than I could have imagined, and whether I actually got my terrified ass onto that zipline.

Costa Rica, I'm nervous as hell.

But I'm coming.

~Tj🩷

FAQs: First-Time International Travel Anxiety

Is it normal to feel anxious before your first international trip?

Travel can involve unfamiliar environments, disrupted routines, uncertainty and a loss of some of the control we have at home, so feeling nervous before a major trip isn't unusual. If travel anxiety becomes overwhelming, talking with a mental health professional can help you develop strategies suited to your needs.

Can you be excited about a vacation and still have anxiety about going?

Absolutely. Excitement and anxiety can exist at the same time. Feeling scared doesn't automatically mean you don't want the experience or that you've made the wrong decision.

How am I preparing to feel safer traveling internationally?

For this trip, we're researching where we're staying, getting advice from people familiar with Costa Rica, communicating about concerns ahead of time and planning to stay aware of our surroundings. Travelers can also review current official destination information before leaving and make sure trusted people at home know their itinerary.

How can I ground myself if I become anxious while traveling?

One strategy I use is the 5-4-3-2-1 grounding exercise, which redirects my attention to things I can see, feel, hear, smell and taste. Different techniques work for different people, so I like having a few familiar coping tools available instead of expecting myself to suddenly become anxiety-free because I'm on vacation.

What if I'm scared to try something adventurous while traveling?

I'm giving myself permission to try without requiring myself to be fearless. For me, that's ziplining. I can prepare, show up and see how I feel when I'm actually there. I don't need to eliminate fear before an experience can mean something.