25 February 2002 6:34 PM
[Yes, I used European-style dates in my journal; I thought it looked classy.]
[Yes, I used European-style dates in my journal; I thought it looked classy.]
It occurs to me that I haven’t written in my personal journal in a
while, and maybe that’s because I don’t know how I feel. Or, perhaps, I don’t know how I feel because
I haven’t written in my journal. Chicken
and egg—you decide.
The fact is I feel numb; I just quit a job where I was making 60k a year
and had a good pension and comfortable future to look forward to. I'm leaving my children (okay, they're adults
now, but still) and my friends and moving out of the country to marry a woman I
hardly even know. Like most outrageous
things I do, I simply make up my mind, do it without thinking and then deal
with the consequences. I like to think
this time it's different, and to a large degree it is, but the pattern is
disquietingly familiar.
Right now, I'm sitting in my apartment, at my desk, writing on my
computer, surrounded by all that is familiar to me (granted, it's a little
sparse in here, but you know what I mean).
I sat this afternoon on the balcony, smoking a cigar and having a brew,
enjoying the familiar scenery. On a
purely intellectual level I know that this is all going to change in a few
days, but there is no hint inside me that I believe any of it is real. I'm simply getting a kick out of telling
everyone the story and being the center of attention because I'm doing
something so radical. But now all that
is over; I've had my good-bye party at work, I've gone out to dinner with my
friends and basked in their admiration as they effused about how brave and
romantic I'm being. And now I've got to
pay the piper.
My last view of New York; it wasn't really difficult to leave.
Tomorrow my furniture goes. After
that, I'll be sitting in an empty apartment, just waiting to get on a
plane. What is going to happen to me
when I get over there?
I'm finding I can't conceive of it.
I have no thoughts beyond getting on that plane. After that, it's all blank. I suppose that shouldn't be unexpected. After all, I can only get my head around so
much. I've been busy extracting myself
from America, and that has proven to be a rather large job. England will take care of itself.
Still, why am I doing this? What
on earth could have possessed me to quit my job and leave my country? That's a little over the top, even for me.
On the other hand, is it really such a big deal? People change jobs, move from country to
country and get married every day.
Granted, they don't always do all three at once, but many of them
have. Maybe I think I should be feeling
something only because I'm on the cusp of such a big change; the fact that I
feel nothing makes me wonder if I'm making a mistake. Shouldn't I feel excited, or happy, or
elated, or terrified? I feel nothing. I feel like I still have my job, I feel like
I'll always be here in America in this apartment and that life is just going to
go on this way without any inconvenient interruptions.
Two days, twenty-two hours and thirty-five minutes to go. I wonder—when I land on the other side—how real
it will be then. Will I miss my old job
and old friends? Will I miss my boys? Will my guilt overtake me? Will I be homesick? Will I not like living there? Will I be able to get a job? Will I become depressed and screw up my
marriage? The opportunities for failure
abound.
For now, however, the party continues because, after all, it's all about
me. Tonight is my last Irish Dance class
and I'm sure to get more "Oh you're so brave" and "That's so
romantic" thrown at me. Tomorrow I’m
making one last visit to some close friends where I’m sure to get more of the
same. It won't be until I land at
Gatwick that the ego stroking will stop and I'll have to decide, for myself, if
I've done the right thing.
But, of course, by then it will be too late.
In re-reading that journal entry,
two things struck me: One, that my Americaness has softened over the past
decade, and Two, I did not, after all, make the wrong decision. I thought you might like to know that.
POSTCARDS FROM IRELAND – the making
of an expat
…the tale of how all this came about…
Release date: 1 March 2012.
It doesn't matter if what you did was romantic and brave or foolish and selfish. You made a decision. Something that so many people are too paralyzed to do. You you risked alot at a time in like that most people are no longer willing to take a risk. You say you felt nothing, but your words betray you. You were hungry; hungry for more. More of what was the blank screen, not your mind. You have accomplished something that few people ever are really able to work for; you accomplished a lifelong dream. You are a published author; and still going. Sometimes nothing stops people and everything and everybody become a means to an end. You are human enough to question and examine your motives, not just take. Be ruthless when you have to be, but always balance it with what life has taught you.
ReplyDeleteKaren
I was many things during that period of my life, but paralyzed was not one of them. ;)
DeleteFunny that - 22 years ago when I got on a plane to move to the States (having recently married an American who had to go back without me) I too felt very numb. I had had parties galore, right up until the night before, but I still couldn't believe I was really leaving.
ReplyDeleteI guess when you can't know what lies ahead, numb is the only way to go. But, yeah, the parties were great.
DeleteYou have to go with your gut feeling and then hope! We are glad that you did, you have been a great friend and life over here is so much better for your coming. Plus the fact we have shared some good whiskey together amongst other good times, and you are right, your Americaness (is that a word) has softened, but I hope you never lose it as it is part of your psyche. Perhaps it is about time we had a party over here, to celebrate your first ten years?
ReplyDeleteNigel
Sounds like a great idea, especially since I found out I don't get to ride in a golden carriage around London on my anniversary. "Reserved for Her Majesty" What sort of excuse is that?
DeleteMike--disappointed