After I finished working, I threw myself into my next project, cleaning my room. Which provided many surprises, my aunt's old Spanish text book, boxes of Little Amelia baby clothes, and the realization my sister had more things stashed and stored in my closet than I did. I organized, dusted, vacuumed, and sorted through clothes for donation items to goodwill, summer clothes for storage, and things I actually want to stay and see daylight.
And now that I am done cleaning, I have a few errands to run. Errands comprising of picking up my new mac book and then speaking sternly at the bank people for once again messing up the ordering of my new card. I have a dentist appointment, a physical, and an eye doctor appointment scheduled. I will be babysitting for a cousin, and seeing a friend's play.
In a nutshell, I am bored. Which leads to worry, which leads large amounts of anxiety, which shows it self in insomnia and stress eating.
However, there are people who have my back. In regards to the stress eating, my mother has stocked the cupboards with food and let me buy fancy cheese. My grandparents, unknowing of how I was feeling, planned a trip to a buffet, where I had more than two desserts, in true Mills fashion. For the insomnia, the cat is very willing to stay up late keeping me company as I channel surf during the commercials of Dateline reruns.
My mother said to me tonight, after I overreacted when realizing an error my bank made, "You are bound to have anxiety, masses of it. You are making a huge life decision."
Which is entirely true. I am simply not going on a "trip", I am moving. I am leaving everything I am comfortable with, my bed, my car, my native tongue, to live in a country that speaks a much older language with stricter grammar rules. A country that relies heavily on public transport, that has had socialized health care for decades, a country where twice as much electricity runs through their outlets. A country that has buildings older than America, where history is right around the corner, and football is hard to find.
In realizing what the hell I am doing, I am also realizing those who are there for me. You met in a previous post, my friend Colten, who's response to my declaration of wanderlust summed up all my friends'. Along with Colten, Dana, Caitlin, Justin, Andrea, Isabel, Reid, Kristina, Julia, and others didn't blink an eye at my purchase of a one way ticket to a foreign land. Instead, they helped in every unique way they could. Whether it is with a glass of wine, a sushi dinner, or reassuring me that I am not crazy (well, not all crazy), my friends have believed that I am doing the right thing. Or they are just really good at hiding it. As my fly date comes closer and closer, I am realizing I will miss them more than just about anything. Thank god for social media and the Internet. And that fact that they are all wander bugs and might visit, or at least will write from their own travel destinations.
And then there is my family. My father (who may be more worried than I am, he really should of never watched the movie Taken) was a huge influence on me falling in love with travel. He would hand me the globe during TV commercials and ask to find Managascar, the city closest to the mouth of the Nile, or would run his own farm worn fingers down the trail the Nez Perce fled. And now I feel I am ready to see what that globe has to offer. Dad lived for a year in Switzerland. A year, that from his stories, I believe was full of fondue, skiing the Alps, and traveling to France to play basketball. My father is being supportive in his own way, making sure all my finances are in order, placing vitamin bottles within reach, and telling me that although he is very proud of me, that I better not talk to strangers.
My sisters are doing what they do best. Being sisters. I get the feeling both are slightly jealous, going to miss me, and at the same time can't wait till I leave so they can go through the clothes I leave and reclaim anything that I might of possibly taken from them.....such as when one let me live in her apartment for a month.
My mother, is being my mother. Anyone who knows her, knows her to be a rock. She is helping by oohing and ahhing over the purchase of my new, chic, European looking winter clothes (thank god for H&M), handing me bags of chocolate, and above all else, understanding how anxious and stressful it can be to start a new adventure in your life.
As I lay awake at night thinking what pair of gloves to pack, reminding myself to call the bank for the fifth time, and spend hours silencing my brain with playing Sims, I know the anxiety won't leave.
I barely speak German. I am terrified of airplanes. I have never been away from Eastern Washington for more than three weeks. I may not be afraid of snakes, spiders, birds, or failing. But I may be afraid of this.
I will have wifi. I will be able to text other iphone users anytime. I will be able to see my friends in Germany. My mother does know how to work her email and her smart phone. Caitlin will cheer me up with stories of Sims and dogs, text me every waking moment, and tell me that I am awesome. And if all else fails, I will beg Justin to fly and rescue me. And if I know my best friend, he would fly across the ocean to get me. Then would stand me up, dust me off, take me shopping, and tell me I am crazy. Its an adventure. Its supposed to be anxious. Even Indiana Jones is afraid of snakes. Now lets have some coffee, find European lovers, and get on with life.
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