#14. Bonus newsletter: On this day
Nine years ago today, I embarked on an adventure I thought would only last a couple of years.
“I forgot my phone!” My boyfriend had hailed a cab and helped the cabbie load all four of my suitcases into the taxi when I realized I’d left my phone plugged in to the charger 14 flights up. The cabbie started the meter and Dan ran upstairs to grab it. I had a flight to catch from JFK, a one-way trip to London, a place that would soon become my home after seven years in New York.
I thought I’d only be gone for a couple of years. Go overseas, get it out of my system, and then come back to New York — come back to Dan. I’d told him from the beginning that I dreamt of living overseas, and now, a year and a half into our relationship, I was making it a reality. I’d fought for this — my company had flown me out to London two months prior so I could meet the director I’d report to. They’d also flown out another woman, and had the director choose whom he’d like to hire. He’d selected me. (The other woman moved over a year later, and she now lives in London with her British husband and baby!)
I can’t remember the cab ride, but I do remember that traffic was bad that Saturday afternoon, and I was anxious about making my evening flight on time. When we finally got to the airport, I had too many bags for my economy ticket - it was going to be $300 to check them all. A kind American Airlines employee pointed out to me that I could upgrade my flight for $400 to fly business class, and that would cover all my bags. It was a no-brainer. I’d pay the extra $100 even if my company wouldn’t cover it (they did).
Dan and I had a tearful goodbye. We hadn’t really had a talk about what long distance would mean to us, who would visit whom and when. “We’ll be together when we’re together, and we’ll be apart when we’re apart,” we’d said. But what the hell did that even mean? We didn’t know. He said there was a chance he could move to London with his work. I was convinced I’d only be there for two years. I figured we’d figure it out. We loved each other — wouldn’t that be enough?
At my farewell party a couple of evenings prior, a colleague had told me she thought I was brave. “You could stay here, have a comfortable life with Dan, keep doing the same job in the same city…but you’re doing something different. It’s brave,” she’d told me. Sitting in business class sobbing into a glass of champagne, I didn’t feel very brave. I felt stupid and regretful and wondering what the hell had been going through my head when I thought moving away from everything I knew was such a great idea.
I admit it — I was scared. Terrified. I’d put on a brave face and assured everyone it was what I wanted. It was what I wanted, wasn’t it? I’d dreamt and planned and here it was, happening! I was doing it! Shouldn’t I be happy?
WHY CAN’T I STOP CRYING?
The truth is, change is f*cking scary. I had entered the panic zone, which is far away from the comfort zone, and my nervous system had gone haywire. While nothing is ever certain in life, there is a level of certainty in the comfort zone: I will wake up next to this person, I will go to this job, I will go home to this address, I will see my friends at the weekend, I will get coffee from this coffee shop, etc. I had grown accustomed to these things in New York, and in London, I didn’t have Dan to wake up to, and I didn’t know what my job would be like, where I would live, what I would do at the weekend, or where I’d get my coffee. I knew exactly one person in London, and she was about to move.
What the hell had I been thinking?
Nine years on, I still sometimes wonder what the hell I’m thinking. I look back at those panic zone moments and recognize that I got through them. Yes, I panicked, yes, I was terrified, but I had also trusted my gut. I had followed my intuition and pursued my dream to move abroad, and that has led me where I am today. Living in Paris, my favorite city in the world, with French citizenship, in a flat I adore, making new friends, frequenting a favorite coffee shop, and yes — feeling brave.
Over time, my panic zone has become my comfort zone. My nervous system has calmed down when changes come about. And I can handle them with more grace and less worry about the uncertainty of what lies ahead.
Though I was wrong about only staying abroad for a couple of years, I can’t imagine life being any other way. And I can’t wait to see where I am nine years from now, what stories I’ve written and where I take my life (a more active way of saying “where life takes me”). One thing is certain: there will be moments of panic and moments of comfort.
And I know that by continuing to trust my intuition, I can’t go off course. I’m exactly where I am supposed to be. And what is meant for me will not miss me.