A Rough Start

 When I first moved out of the country, the adjustment period was relatively difficult. A snippet of life from those first few weeks:

It’s been a rough few weeks. Moving out of home always does have a way of throwing you about. 

At least, that’s what it looks like from movies.

I’ve never really done it before. 

Not like this. 

Not only have I moved out of my family’s home, I moved out of the country. Literally. 

Out. Of. The. Country. 

There were a few mornings when I’d wake up and think I was back in my bed, in my room. My books on the nightstand, photos in frames. 

I cried a lot. 

I sometimes still do, but it’s not so much a longing for my bed anymore. 

It’s just that feeling of home. 

Feeling like I can walk down the street and I don’t have to be vigilant about my purse, or knowing exactly how long the light will be red at the intersection. 

Home is having muscle memory of a place.

It’s knowing when the daisies will bloom in the grassy patch by your mailbox and having a favourite aisle in the local grocery store. 

It’s seeing the ghosts of your memories—good and bad—wherever you go, and having a favourite fish and chip shop. 

Home is the place you wish for when everything is going to hell.

I’ve been in hell for a few weeks now. 

Obviously some days are better than others but that general longing for the life my parents built and protected me with—

It’s there, scar tissue on my heart. 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m enjoying it here. It’s bustling and big-city, and everything I’ve never known. I’ve told my Mum this several times but the local shopping centre has a shop for selling chicken. Only chicken! No beef, no pork. Can you imagine a shop that only sells one type of protein?

And there’s so many books at the bookstore. You’d think that’s a given but my local bookstore back home was mostly board games and kids crafts. And greeting cards. 

This bookstore has an actual bay dedicated to classic novels. And rows and rows of fiction. 

I go in there and wander around, and all the people who work there ask if I’m okay, and I want to say,

No! I’m not okay, there are so many books! How on earth do you expect me to function?

But I don’t say that, obviously. 

I used to think I liked isolation back home, but I realise now that I wasn’t isolated. I had my friends, I had my parents. Everything in my neighbourhood, right there waiting for me. 

Here, there’s nobody. 

I’m alone alone. 

A L O N E

It’s exciting, but it’s scary and I don’t know exactly what to do about it aside from carry on. 

So I’ll do it. 

I’’ll carry on, and make them proud. And I’ll make myself proud.