Moving Abroad: a Rollercoaster of Emotions
The dream of many people and nightmare of others: going abroad. Leaving everything behind. Exploring new cultures, trying new foods, meeting new people. But it’s not all sunshine and rainbows. Leaving everything behind can be hard – in every way. Leaving your family and your friends behind is just the start. You have to leave your comfort zone. Your room. Your bed. Your books. Most of your clothes. Your habits. The little and the big things.
In your new home country, EVERYTHING is new. There is zero comfort. Nada.
Yes, as time goes by it gets better. You get used to it. Of course you create your own comfort in your new home after a while.
But until then? Boy, every day is a fight.
When I decided to go abroad to study in England for a year I thought I was prepared. I was excited about all the challenges ahead. And whereas I knew that I’d miss my friends that I’d be leaving behind, I knew that I was going to come back. And I couldn’t wait to see my new room, explore the surroundings of my new home, explore the campus and the city, meet my fellow students and my new housemates, speak English the whole day, and make a bunch of new experiences. I was excited for it all.
But by the time I had packed my whole life into two suitcases, the excitement turned into fear. What if I didn’t get along with the people I’d meet? What if I didn’t get to make any new friends? What if it’s too hard to follow in class because English isn’t my native language? What if I can’t express myself properly because I can’t find the right words? What if I missed my family and friends too much?
And while I did meet many people I got along with – thank goodness, a social circle is a real life saver – the first few weeks were HARD.
I constantly feared doing something wrong. Although I was very lucky to have a level of English where I was able to articulate myself, there were a lot of things I didn’t know just how to bring it across, or what was appropriate to say (as I was brought up in Germany, a culture where the people are much more direct than the British, for example). Oftentimes, I couldn’t understand what people were saying but was afraid of asking them to repeat it.
And while exploring my new hometown was mostly fun, it was also exhausting. Groceries are expensive here, and checking for the cheapest supermarket takes some time. Where do I get good coffee? Where can I get stationery? Where can I print photos to decorate my room?
I felt like I was tripping over my own feet. I managed to catch myself every time before I’d fall – but then I’d trip again. I was constantly at the edge of falling over.
A few weeks later, by the time I had finally created my own new comfort zone, I felt much better about it all. Life was so much lighter. I had found friends that I enjoyed getting to know and spending time with, I knew my way around, and I could finally see the good things big and small about being away from home.
But I realized that what’s the hardest about leaving home is leaving the comfort. It’s leaving all the things you never notice as being comfortable when you’re at home – because that’s what comfort is, when you have it: invisible. You only feel its lack when it’s gone.
