The date is March 4th 2009, and I am beginning to recognize that my time here is dwindling. Last night, I was asking my friends if it would be ok for me to leave my HUGE bag with them while I went traveling during the last few weeks of my stay here. That also meant that I would need a couch to crash on for my last week in London. This was my first actual “have to” think about leaving London thought. I got in touch with my landlord this morning (via text, because calling is just too real) to let him know I would probably be moving out by April 15.
My friends were fine with this idea, but both joked around saying something along the lines of “But you’re not REALLY leaving.”
That’s when it hit me hard. I AM really leaving. And then I need to go to NYC and get employed somehow. My sister, who is light years ahead of me in experience, is about four months into her search for a job. She is looking for very specific employment. But still, I am going to cry looking for a job.
But more importantly, I am just not that interested in leaving London. - Yet, I have no choice. There is absolutely no way for me to find a job here without having to go home for some period of time. (Side track - I was just looking through my back pack to see if I needed it for class. Then I spotted some American currency. Five dollar bills staring at me, looking foreign. Pence mixed with cents! Its making me sad) I shouldn’t freak out. I still have all of March, minus my few days in Barcelona, to soak up London. And I should be happy. Happy that I am here! That I have this opportunity in the first place! But I just get a little sad thinking about leaving. Though I also have moments when I miss New York. I am LOSING it!
Some days I am ready and willing to be back in New York. I look forward to seeing my friends and family. The food, the places… the dozens of things I miss. But earlier today I was imagining some sort of welcome back dinner, with everyone being happy to see me, and me just looking and feeling miserable. It was like I was outside of myself in some future scenario, watching it all happen. Just thinking about it makes me want to cry a little.
Being here makes me feel stronger. I feel better and fuller each day that passes. Obviously having a job would amplify that. Then it would seem that what I have here would be mine. Something that I earned. But I haven’t earned it. It has been handed to me. Maybe what is happening is this: I have been shown something that I want. Maybe I do want to be here. And now, I have to go home, and work for it. Make it happen on my own. I need to get back here on my own accord. That helps. It makes me feel a little better. I just gave myself a verbal nudge. I word filled “Hang in there kid. You’ll figure it out.”
Perhaps I will.
1 comment:
you will work it out.
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