I never think leaving will be so hard. Before leaving I always look at the action of leaving not as parting but as having the opportunity to start. I always look at my ability to leave as a blessing, as a necessity really. Then it happens and I stand there crying in an airport.
The moments preceding my departure I’m nervous, my stomach hurts, and to ease all of these things I try to get everything on my never-ending lists done. Like one crossed off item will slowly untwist a knot. On the drive to the airport, my to-do lists are aside but there is this feeling of apprehension that curves around the car. There is this feeling that somehow this isn’t supposed to be mine.
I stand at the airport hugging my parents and I just feel this overwhelming emotion that stings my eyes. My mom pushes me away, and as her hand parts from my arm, I’m afraid that leaving isn’t the right choice after all. A part of me doesn’t want to let go of belonging there. I didn’t know I was so afraid.
As I walk through security maneuvering bulky boots and jackets I feel better. This is something I have done an odd 19 or so times before, that certainty that spurred 10 months of planning slowly comes back to me.
Two flights + one snow storm later I am in London. I feel nervous and disconnected, not that excitement I was so eager to feel. I have too much stuff in my luggage and my mind, I am weighed down. As this weight grows heavier I wonder if I am doing this all wrong, I wonder why I did this at all. I look for the point, the beacon of light that shows me the point, but the harder I search the heavier my bag feels.
Some odd hours later my beautiful friend comes bouncing in and her presence helps me to remember the point. Well, there is no one point. This is a choice, a choice which that can bring me a lot of joy and really exciting experiences and people. But will also probably bring me a bit of nerves as I make my way across parts of Europe. These few hours of doubt are the smallest fraction against the hundreds, perhaps, thousands of positive thoughts that have driven me. I think that for me working so hard for something and then actually getting it is unnerving. In an odd way it doesn’t feel right that I am actually doing this, even though for the past 10 months in my mind it was the only thing I could do.
I guess it comes down to this odd sense of fear that my good-bye gave me. Saying good-bye took my choices out of theories and put them in reality and that is scary. No matter how awesome or cool or fun, for some reason I found the power of my choice frightening before exciting. Which is strange… but on the other hand I am the type of person who stands waiting for the sky to fall.
I don’t quite understand why my good-bye caused this reaction. Either way I am glad to have sort of figured it out. And regardless, I have yet to regret a thing.