For a really really long time now (each of my family members will attest to this), I have talked about moving away. Brisbane as much as I appreciate it’s laid-back vibe and overall amazing weather, had outgrown me a bit and it became time to start looking for a pair of big girl pants to change in to.
So the first day I landed I Melbourne, it surprised me that I burst into tears on three separate occasions. The first instance was when I lost the piece of paper that contained my wifi password on it, and that I was specifically told by reception not to lose as they wouldn’t issue another one. Somehow between reception and one floor above that, I lost that God damn piece of paper. And so I did what any mature 27-year-old would do, and proceeded to go to my room and cry.I would like to say it was ‘that time of the month,’ but it wasn’t.
The day continued to get worst when I went to the movie room to join in on movie night, and the whole room was full. I tried my best to squish myself into the corner of the room, but only being able to see three quarters of the screen, made watching an already intense movie (Split), that much more complicated.
I left and then I cried some more, because now I would actually have to go out and talk to people at the hostel, and I was already deep into the introverted side of my half introverted/half extroverted personality.
I can’t remember the last time I cried that day, but it could have been because all of the mugs in the kitchen were taken and the one I had leaked tea all over the floor.
That first day was hard and honestly, I didn’t expect to be. Truthfully, I didn’t anticipate that any of the process of moving to another city would be particularly challenging. I just bought my ticket and hoped that everything would fall into place like it does for my golden-child Brother.
When I woke myself up to the fact, that life is actually hard and requires you to make an actual effort, I started to follow suit. I woke up the next day, found a gym and exploited their free day-pass, and got on with things. The city of Melbourne wasn’t going to roll out a welcome mat for me, so it was up to me to not get lost in the current.
It’s been up and down since that day, however the consistent theme of each morning that I wake up is that I have to continue to keep moving forward. As someone who has the tendency to stop and think about every living moment possible, this is turning out to be a good thing.
I have seen shitty apartments, not gotten through to the final round of a few job applications but still, I keep swimming. It doesn’t particularly matter if on some days I’m game enough to do butterfly or just a half-assed version of freestyle, as long as I make some kind of progress.
Moving cities is a weird and confronting experience, and more than just a change of scenery, it will bring up the flaws in your personality you can’t ignore. The crucial part of all of this, is whether or not you continue to do as you have always done, or if you’re willing to try and do things a little differently.
Right now for example, it’s Friday night and I’m alone in my three-bed dorm writing this, recovering from another random surprise crying attack. Drunk people are hurling abuse outside my window and I feel very alone. These are my real thoughts and the former Maria would have emotionally ate her way into a food-induced coma already. But for now, I’m going to wipe my nose on my sleeve and be glad for the simple fact that I got through another day.
I’m here to keep going and to not give up, even if I potentially drown in a sea of rejection, disappointment and failure. Because if I truly wanted an easy experience, I would have stayed home and I never would have dived into all of this.
Whether you’re moving to another country, changing jobs or going through some weird transition phase, be easy on yourself. Choose your stroke whatever it may be, go at your pace but always remember to just keep swimming.