“Making a decision was only the beginning of things. When someone makes a decision, he is really diving into a strong current that will carry him to places he had never dreamed of when he first made the decision.”
I forgot what it was like to live in this state of transition.
I re-read some of my old blog posts from the semester before I left for Singapore and I was shocked by 1) the honesty and rawness of my writing that has since disappeared from the public domain, 2) how quickly and extremely my emotions swung back and forth about my trip, and 3) how difficult my relationships were during that time of limbo.
This time it is the same, and entirely different.
I am full of guilt. It is so hard to look at the people around me and realize that I am abandoning this life in a few months. Being a teacher only intensifies the guilt.
My life no longer exists in the long-term. Values change, and choices are weighed by instant gratification.
There is judgement. My decision is far from generally accepted by society, and almost everyone likes to remind me of that with condescending questions regarding money and safety and career aspirations. The expressions of incredulous awe are almost as bad.
And there is fear. No, I don’t really know what I’m doing or what I’m looking for. Yes, I’m scared out of my mind and ill-prepared and naive and inexperienced and young and female. I am going regardless.
I also have this tiny, secret nagging thought that I’ve been outwardly downplaying: the fact that in the end, I have no idea if—or when—I’ll actually come back to Houston, Connecticut, the United States. While I knew putting my life on hold would mean change, this could actually be a turning point in a way that I’m not even aware of yet.