First of all, happy New Year to everyone. I'm not writing the classic "New Year New Me" post and I think there are enough out there for you to read anyway. So instead I will share another episode out of my moving abroad life with you.
Until now, all I shared about moving abroad online and to any friends and family were positive feelings. But of course there are also a lot of negatives that come along with it and I do experience them too. Like I said before in a recent blog post, I am not usually one to get homesick. When I moved to France the first time in 2011, I did feel quite alone and miserable, which was however more due to the fact that I didn't have any friends at the beginning and it was hard to settle in.
This was totally different when I lived abroad later in my life as I always had a lot of new friends and a safe social life so instead of feeling homesick, I felt incredibly sad to leave this life behind when it was time to go back to my family home. Of course, this time it is completely different, as I am basically emigrating to another country and not only staying away for one or two semesters.
Maybe that's why I also felt so sad the day I was leaving my family. I even was scared a little bit and asked myself if I am doing the right thing. After all, this whole thing has not been carefully planned but instead has been more of a spur-of-the-moment decision of mine. So maybe I made a mistake? I don't know, but I will find out over the next few months for sure.
The reason why I write this post however, is my father. My dad has always had the biggest problem with me leaving. He likes to have his children close because family is the most important thing. And of course I saw how hard it was for him to keep himself together these last few days before I left as he didn't want to make me feel bad. And I know it wasn't easy for him.
I left very very early on Thursday morning and my dad drove me to the station. When I was on the train and saw him through the window how he was standing lost on the platform, my heart felt suddenly very tight. Then, as he was walking down the stairs, I saw his face crumble and he was crying. The thought of it now turns me into a weeping mess. And also then I started crying as well because I just felt so awful and horrible and basically like the worst person in the world.
How could I do this to my dad, to my family? This is really the hardest part for me of moving abroad. Not because leaving might be difficult for me, but because I know that with my decision to go I broke his heart. And I do hate myself a little bit for it. But on the other hand, I know I have to do what is right for me. And at the moment I think that is moving to Ireland. I just hope, it will get easier for my dad with time.
Maybe I also have to add that I think this has been the first time that I saw him crying.
Have you moved to a different country as well and what did you find especially hard, emotionally?