My heart is a muddled mess. It isn’t broken but it feels bruised. I need a bulldozer to push away the rubble of mixed emotions with its claw-like ripper and smooth out the uneven ground I am walking on here.
I hate that I struggle with change. Why can’t I be one of those people who hops, skips and whistles their way into new territory, forging ahead, waving goodbye to their past with a thoughtless, over-the-shoulder wave? For me, change, this kind (and any kind) of profound and life- altering change, challenges my character and my will, and dares me to face it head on with bravery and confidence. I’m getting better at it, I really am.
But today, I feel robbed. I want to chase and take down the thief who has stolen from me all that I loved about life in Bahrain. I want to retrieve it and run the other way as fast as I can.
But then, as much as I want it all back, I also desire to embrace what’s ahead. (Where is that bulldozer?!)
Let me put it in writing that I am so grateful for the opportunity to live in Italy. I like Italy. I like its people. I look forward to exploring the coastlines of Croatia, the ruins of Rome and the slopes of Switzerland. I am eager to move into our downtown flat and frequent the markets and fests and walk the kids to school on cobblestoned streets and ride a bicycle with a basket. There are olive mills awaiting my visit and vineyards with grapes to be stomped on, wines to be tasted and cheeses to be savored. The hills of Tuscany beckon my return. The lakes of Trentino and Como will be dazzling, I am sure of it.
However, amidst the anticipation and pleasure of such adventures, there are many hours spent alone hoping to find my new place sooner than later, my niche in this foreign community. I often envy Josh, I’ll admit; from place to place, there is a built-in network of support and interaction through work and colleagues. There is purpose and drive, with the direction clearly laid out before him. For me, there are just arrows and arrows, pointing in no particular direction but in all directions, demanding I find my way.
I don’t skim surfaces and squander funds. I dive deeply and invest entirely. This way of living can chafe against the lifestyle we have chosen for our family, the journey we have embarked upon that uproots us and in which friends come and go. But it is possible to mesh the two and I am determined to do so.