Right now, the “Are you excited about London? Nervous? It’s coming up really soon!” smalltalk is starting to really kill me. I can’t scream out, “It’s killing me! My body and mind are freaking out and I can’t stick with a singular happy or sad feeling over this enormous life change. Some days I want to cry and some I am too ecstatic for my own good. And dear God, don’t ask me what my boyfriend and I are doing when I leave, because you’ll make me remember that it’s going to be over between us so soon…” But instead I make up some cheesy answer and try to move the topic to something else.
As an introvert, I abhor smalltalk anyways, but the amount I’ve gotten since I announced my London plans have gotten me so awkward and vague that I feel so rude when I give a short answer and immediately stop talking and walk away. When I was studying abroad in 2011, I couldn’t shut up about going to England. I talked about it any chance I got. But that was because it was only for three months, and I’d be back to the people I care about in a short time. This time, I am starting completely over.
It’s hard to think of it as just a one year thing because it could turn into something other than that. I may end up staying in London for the rest of my life. I may move to New York City and never visit the Pacific Northwest again, except to come home for holidays. But if something happens to my elderly parents, there’s not a lot of family left to come home to, so visits to the West Coast would eventually become non-existent. My friends who I currently love will have spread out, or we’ll lose touch and it’ll get too awkward to even message them on Facebook.
And worst of all, the man who I currently love will no longer be a part of my life and leaving him in September is going to hurt so much. Even though he’ll be in Europe with me for October and November, this will be the worst December of my life. I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering what would’ve happened if I had never left. I know I’ll have London and traveling to distract me, but it’s going to take a long time to fall out of love with him, and I’m scared to death about ever allowing myself to be involved with someone else, based on how devastating this parting of the ways turns out.
I hate these melancholy blog posts, but I need to get it out. I need to show the good and the bad about this whole process. Moving away, whether it be a few hours or a whole other continent, is tough for anyone, and emotions play just as big of part in the transition as the paperwork and packing. I am a highly sensitive and emotional person, so every aspect of this is hitting me harder than someone who can just easily detach themselves. I will always feel more deeply and intensely than a majority of the people I know, and all the tears I cry as I get closer to my departure day will eventually fade as I adjust to my life in London, but in the meantime, I am allowed to be scared and terrified and hope I come out the other side of this with none of the regrets I am currently fearing right now.