I have been in Australia for six weeks.
Some days it feels like six days, and others like six years.
Today is one of those days. Actually, it’s one of those weeks. Ok fine, two weeks.
I’m in a bit of a funk.
I did so much preparation before I left. Through the work of therapy, self-love, and time spent with family I left feeling stronger than ever before. Both mentally and emotionally. I knew that the transition would not always feel easy. Change has never been my strong suit. I knew there would be good days, as well as hard ones. What I was not expecting was to feel this lonely six weeks in.
To be completely honest, my anxiety is higher than it has been in over a year. The only thing keeping me from crying in the bathroom at work is my anti-depressant. (You win some, you lose some am I right?) I find myself questioning why I chose to move so far away from every person I know on this Earth, and just why did I have to dream so big? New experiences can be cathartic and exciting, but most days I crave familiarity. This isn’t what I thought it would be.
Despite my loneliness, I have enough self-awareness to realize that this is the make-or-break moment. This is the stretch of time where I can give up and go home, or stick it out to see what lies around the corner. By all accounts, I am living my dream. My job is wonderful, and I get to work with incredible children every single day; I am slowly making friends and moving into a house this weekend; I can navigate this city’s transportation with more confidence than three weeks ago. I see the light, even in the darkness, and I am desperately clinging to it.
You really can choose joy. And as I have always said (and told anyone who would listen, especially when jumping into Barton Springs pool) you can get through ANYTHING with deep breathing. So that’s what I’ll do.
Because some days are like that. Even in Australia.