The past months have flown by almost too quickly.
The multiple visits to the embassy,
The late nights I’ve clocked sitting in front of the laptop with bloodshot eyes reading about processes and paperwork,
The tiring hours I clock on the road, driving people up and down,
The fatigue of packing things into boxes and multiple trips to the storage unit,
The countless times I had to pack and repack my luggage,
The number of times I had to say goodbye,
The pain of having to let the people I love go,
The amount of tears I had shed in the days leading up to my departure.
And i’m finally here, yet still unresolved. Still unable to settle in because months of research doesn’t help make getting paperwork processed any faster.
Knowing that the weeks to come will be just as stressful as moving my life halfway across the world. Knowing that I’m still not able to kick back and relax until everything is sorted out.
The excitement still hasn’t hit me because I was/am so busy figuring shit out. Flying 6,000 miles across the globe felt more hollow than anything. I read letters from friends and loved ones, looked at pictures; all the things that I can only stare at but can’t have.I didn’t ever imagine it to be so difficult to say goodbye. Who knew leaving the place I grew up in and grew to detest was so hard?
The journey to Germany was rough, I almost couldn’t get on the connecting flight in Doha. My luggage was misconnected. I re-wore what I could, and tried not to stay cold. The first day was even rougher. Arriving here, at my ~dream city~, yet still no sense of excitement.
I’ve had people yell at me when asking questions. I avoid eye contact with people I pass in the streets, on the train, because I’m bummed. I’ve had impatience and passive aggressive shit waved in my face. I block out everything with music blasting in my ears and tweedle my thumbs. Still having no luggage, desperately wishing there was a way to fix this shit.
Helplessness is what you feel when you move somewhere new.
Not excitement, helplessness.
That evening I got my luggage back, with no thanks to any of the 10 phone calls that I had made. At this point I feel a little better, but the helplessness doesn’t go away. The only thing making my day a little better are the little visits to the supermarket; I stare at the cheese and chocolate selection and it’s enough.
The fatigue, the jetlag, the odd growling from your stomach, the lack of appetite because your brain can’t tell why you’re trying to eat dinner at midnight when it’s really 7pm on this side of the world. When you don’t know where to go and you’re too exhausted to do anything but stay in bed. When you fall into this space of pessimism and you’re not sure what your purpose is here anymore. But it’s only day 1 after all – it’s 24 hours that feel like 48. And then I get reminded that it’s only day 1. Staying eternally grateful for the people who keep me sane with words of encouragement.
It’s day 02 today and I visited a flea market. Stood in the crowd and felt overwhelmed, had some incredible tasting vegan gyros and fresh OJ, watched quirky musicians play in Mauerpark. Met a colleague for coffee and was shown around her neighbourhood. Being a little bit more warmed up, it didn’t feel so empty inside anymore. Next up’s prepping myself for first day of work upon my third day of arrival; Helplessness departs, nervousness arrives.
Things will probably slowly look up, guess I just have to be patient. Perhaps take more trips to the supermarket to gawk at the selection of fresh produce that we don’t get back in Singapore.
Whoever told you chasing your dreams was easy must have merely climbed up a flight of stairs to plant a flag with their face on it.