People from home tell me I’m brave. I don’t believe that and you shouldn’t either. What I may be is stupid. Coming over here without a plan, without an idea, selling everything I owned, leaving the best family and friends thousands of miles away, abandoning my cats, and perhaps walking away from librarianship (a profession I love) is perhaps the dumbest thing I’ve done. But hopefully there is a reward for stupidity at the end of all of this.
When asked “what is it you want to do here?” the only thing I can honestly say is that I want to be able to write. I need to be challenged and maybe that is what I’m doing. I need fear to flow through my veins and I need the doubt, but most of all, I need to try and then reach the end having survived. It helps me think. Struggle saves. (ErinMcKeown says it better in her song “Aspera”.) Having to construct a life here with no language, little money, few friends and a resistant culture will make me understand things that staying in America would not allow me. Because, in the end, my life there is safe. A warm, comfortable, lovely, and safe life. My life here last year was also safe. More exotic, sure, but safe. Now the ground shifts under my feet and everything is a huge question. But in searching for the answer, I think I’ll find myself. Hopefully writing in the meantime.
So, I’m going to attempt honesty on this little blog of mine. Tomorrow I begin teaching English to Italians. I want to throw up thinking about it. At the same time, I’m ecstatic work is before me. Work. That is step one. Language will come later. But I need to work.