When I tell people I’ll be going to Australia for six months, the most react with some variation on I wouldn’t dare to do that/’That’s so brave/I would be shitscared’, After which they sort of expect to say someting like, while lookign very herotic and brave, that I’m not scared at all/ I don’t know the meaning of fear/ Homesickness is for the weak (which I don’t think, just to be clear). And I tell them variation on that, I tell them that I can’t wait to leave Holland again.
The truth is that I’m scared shitless. Whenever I think of leaving I get nervous, my stomach tightens up into a hard ball, I have to reming myslf to breath and to keep going. Every once in a while I get very close to giving up, to not going and skip all the drama and stress. The hardest part, the one I’m dreading the most, is the actual leaving part. Walking away on the airport, through the customs and waiting to board. That horrifying moment is what I see in my nightmares.
At the same time, thinking about leaving wakes up a thousand tiny butterflies in my stomach, fluttering around ecstatic. It fills me with a excitement and a hunger. Hunger for more that just a simple life here, hunger to see more, experience more and basically live more. I want to talk english again, even with my weird, horrible dutch accent. I want to walk through the customs at the airport and board that plane. Leave. Become part of the Australian life again.
And there will come a time, you’ll see, with no more tears.
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.
Get over your hill and see what you find there,
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.
(After the storm – Mumford and sons)