People say that deciding to go is the hardest part of leaving. I disagree. The hardest part of leaving is ignoring the scared voice in your head that’s telling you you should stay. I know this to be true, because I’m writing this from the departure lounge in Dublin Airport at 6am, as I wait to board a flight that will start me on my journey to Vancouver. And I’m still not 100% sure I’ll actually get on the plane.
I decided to move to Canada nine months ago. My life wasn’t panning out quite like I thought it was going to, and I felt, at the time, like I’d spent the two years since graduation in an existential crisis that I couldn’t quite seem to shake. Mostly, I bundled through that time focused on one thing, and one thing only; keeping myself afloat.
I had spoken of moving away so many times, and eventually, there came a point where I realised the only thing that was stopping me was me. So I quit my job, sold my car, said goodbye to my family and friends and promised the dog I’d come back to visit, and now here I am.
The question asked of me most over the last few weeks has been ‘Are you excited?’. The truth is I’ve been bouncing between feelings of total denial, outright excitement and sheer terror for some time now. But I’ve been assured more than once that the things that scare us most are often those that are most worthwhile. And my Mammy says I can come back if I don’t like it.