It happened. Over our break for Holy Week, I cried my first real, big, ugly tears over leaving. There were hints of it before: when I told my principal that I wasn't coming back, when my assistant asked me if I was sad about moving home, when I described my decision to my friends. But this time was different. There were sobs and chokes and boogers and convulsive gasps. And wine. There was a bit of wine. Since that moment, I've had a hard time stopping.
Leaving will be hard, and I've realized that from the start, but I hadn't really anticipated the things that would make it difficult. I knew it would be hard to leave my students and friends, the culture, my work, and the memories, but I had never considered how much more would affect me. Granted, I originally thought I'd be leaving after 6 months, not 4 1/2 years.
I moved here 2 weeks after graduating college. I learned how to work full time, buy groceries, pay rent and bills, budget my spending, find the things that I need, and get around here. I became independent here. I became an adult here. I've faced and weathered some of the most challenging moments in my life here, and I learned how to seek help here. I have a system of support here. And, while common sense dictates that, if I did it once here while in an unideal setting, I can do it again there where I'm closer to family, long-time friends, and hot running water. Still, that looming change scares the hell out of me, especially considering how difficult it was the last time I moved home what I had expected would be permanently.
Forgiving myself is an incredibly hard thing for me to do. I could probably tell you about at least one thing I still feel guilty about or ashamed of from every year since I was in preschool. When I moved here, though, my humor carried me through many of my flubs. They, frequently, were just so absurd that all I could do was laugh. I don't know how easy laughing away my mistakes will be when I get back, though. I'm not a new college graduate anymore, nor am I transitioning into a foreign culture; I'm an experienced professional moving home. The issue is that "home" just doesn't mean the same thing anymore. It's no longer the lifestyle which I know how to live or where I feel most comfortable. It means re-learning everything -- probably even a new career. I'll be stepping into a completely different life, and I am afraid -- not only of how I will handle myself, but also of other people's expectations of me.
Knowing how to end this post is hard. Previously, I've tried to end my posts with humor or a word of hope. I don't want to seem hopeless, because that's not how I feel. But I am scared shitless, and implying anything else is just dishonest. And maybe getting it out without pretense will finally let me breathe.
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