Moving to another country is a scary thing. So scary, in fact, that I presently have 5000 thoughts swirling around in my head. 10 weeks is coming up quickly and I’ve still not even told my parents.
So here is an incomplete list of my present fears. Some of them could be labelled as simply a worry, but with my level of anxiety, they’re all pretty much fears. This should be fun.
I’m afraid that my parents will be angry. Or worse yet, sad.
I’m afraid that they won’t care.
I’m afraid that my accommodation arrangements will fall through.
I’m afraid that, despite saving so much money for this, I will run out of money.
I’m afraid that I will go over a year without a proper pasta or American-style sandwich or thick crust pizza.
I’m afraid that I will forget how to do things here after I get back.
I’m afraid that I will develop an accent. Because I did when I went for three months.
I’m afraid of being alone or lost.
I’m afraid of being kidnapped, murdered, raped, or having acid thrown on me.
I’m afraid of becoming too accustomed to the climate and not be able to handle a proper winter again.
I’m honestly dreading having to re-find all of the shampoos, moisturizers, soaps, etc that work for my skin type because I’ve spent years finding the perfect ones here that I’ll no longer be able to afford.
I’m afraid of not being able to find a job once I come back.
I’m afraid of missing out on everything back home.
I’m afraid of something happening to someone I’m close to while I’m gone.
I’m afraid of getting sick and not being able to see a proper doctor because I’ve had some… interesting experiences with doctors in India.
I’m afraid of something happening where I can’t get home.
I’m afraid of being separated from the person I’ll be staying with.
I’m positively dreading all of the stares. Oh, Lord. The stares.
I’m honestly terrified that this decision could either be the best thing I do in my life, or my biggest mistake. I can only hope that I’m doing the right thing and do my best to enjoy and learn from this experience.