I know there have been loads and loads of texts and thoughts and confessions about being away from home.
And today, I will add mine to the list.
It’s been roughly 4.5 years since I moved to UK. It’s a funny story, this moving business. I had a job leading nowhere but that I couldn’t leave because there was nothing better and I just could not afford to do it. In fairness I was lucky, although it was a job that did not pay very well I did enjoy it, it helped me pay my studies and it was my area. On that note: well done, Claudia. As I was saying: I was working, finished my degree, failed my drivers license (I know, I know, shame on me) and thought: I should go on a trip. And, because I hadn’t been to London in years and had some friends here I thought : hummmm. So I gathered all my savings, bought a one-way ticket, packed my bags and here I am.
I really can’t complain about life. Career is finally going well and I can live comfortably. This is all very good. What kills you is missing home.
The first three months, although being hard because you have no idea of what you are doing, go very fast and you are still very excited about this new life. Then suddenly you are sitting in your room on a Saturday because all the people you know is working – because that’s how you know people in the beginning and build your social circle. And then you think of how your friends are having fun and sending you pictures of their night out. BAM! Suddenly you will start thinking of how much you want to be there.
But then you go to sleep and all is well again.
Pain comes in waves. It might be months before you think of home – as in, miss home. Maybe because you really are so involved in what is going on with you that you don’t have a moment to spare. Maybe it’s because you don’t allow yourself to do so.
Nevertheless, when you do, it hurts. You miss your family, your dog, your friends, the beach, the drinks, you start complaining of how expensive the life has become.
Yesterday was my pain day. I literally just wanted to go home and hug my dog. sounds silly, I know, but that’s what I wanted. I wanted to tell my friends I missed them, even though they kind of got used to me not being around and still all go out together. Not that they have forgotten about me, I know they haven’t, but life goes on and at least they still have each other.
I miss listening to my mother singing while she does her thing around the house. I miss seeing my dad in shorts reading on the porch – and never finishing the book. I miss my brother laughing about something funny.
I miss my dog, who never fails being way too excited when she sees me. I miss sitting at the beach while having a beer or eating ice cream with my feet in the sand. I miss the salty wind that comes from the sea. I miss the nights out with cheap drink and easy laughs. I miss the horrible popular music and the loudness of us all. And the food… oh, how I miss the food.
the thing is… for us far away going home is always a celebration. People are happy when we are there, we are happy and on the plane back you can’t help but wonder how would your life be if you came back.
At least, now I have something and someone to come back to, which makes it easier. But the longing for being able to see everyone all the time? That stays.
Not all is bad though… we have reinstated the tradition of postcards. Christmas cards. Birthday cards. And although you miss a lot, thank goodness for internet and technology.
Please don’t think I regret moving here. No…. and it’s not bad all the time. It’s just about once a year you have a day of sadness. Then you sleep and get over with your life. I think it’s normal. We always miss the good things, don’t we?
Enjoy what you have, I say. Remember the good things and be happy they happened. And be sure that good things will keep happening in your life. So enjoy them 🙂