Things that make me feel whole

A blog post about the positive and negative stressors associated with moving, and why I feel worried even though I am insanely lucky and privileged.

The question

My face when people ask me "the question"

"So what are you doing next year?"
The standard question. It very neatly avoids asking if I found a job now that I've finished my undergraduate education.

"Well, I'm going to Ireland for my postgrad. Galway," I specify.

"Oh how great! What are you studying?" asks my dentist, my grandparents, my gynecologist, and my parents' family friends who come over once every five years.

"Writing..." I trail off, expecting the inevitable "Oh how nice reply", their enthusiasm gone and mine wilting. I want to defend myself and explain that I'm going on a national scholarship, but I'm more scared of sounding conceited than I am of sounding lame. And then I kick myself, wondering, why am I buying into this culture of writing and visual arts as "lame"? I see my artist and writer friends as elevated humans achieving the ultimate in higher thought. Yet in myself, I see a self-indulgent slacker who will never live up to her parents' expectations. Worse, those expectations have become my own.

I lapse into the anxiety that keeps me awake night after night. People tell me I must be so excited for the move to Ireland, and part of me is definitely over the moon. Besides, outwardly my parents couldn't be more supportive as they help me pack, sort out finances, and prepare academically. I can't help but wonder why I feel like I'm balancing between chasms - familiar chasms, but ones from which I have previously escaped and thought myself free. Fixed. Moving on.

Ten things that make me feel whole, in no particular order

Sadie, a sugar glider with no passport.

1. My beautiful elf boyfriend (BEB). I don't even know what to say about that. I feel like I am in the process of breaking something delicate, fragile, and unspeakably beautiful. And yet there's some excitement, too. I'm looking forward to getting to know him all over again when I come home.
2. Sugar gliders. I adopted my two sugar gliders, Icarus and Sadie, a few years back. I've been obsessed with animals my entire life. After years of threatening to get sugar gliders, I finally rescued a pair off of some guy I found through Craigslist who was looking to trade them for a camera. I was entranced. I could carry them around all day without anybody knowing while they clicked contentedly away. When I was having an off day and was reluctant to get out of bed in the morning, I had to anyway to clean their cage and give them attention. They had to be fed every night. And the more I took care of them, the more I took care of myself. Gliders are difficult exotic animals and I adored researching every aspect of their care. Their metronome-like clicking soothed my anxiety and the way they gradually grew to trust me made me feel worthwhile. I spent the better part of a year trying to work out how to take them to Ireland with me, from getting them registered as emotional support animals to looking into cargo transport to acquiring importation documents. But in the end, it all fell apart. However, they'll be living with BEB while I'm in Ireland, so at least I can smile imagining them snuggling together.
3. Family. I'll miss my siblings and parents. And after a lifetime of begging for a puppy, my mom finally adopted a little King Charles Cavalier Spaniel to cope with her last child (my little sister) moving out to start college. I always knew I wanted a dog but I didn't expect to bond so quickly or thoroughly. I'll miss the family cat as well, but at least he understands I always come home in the end.
4. Stuff. What can I say? I love my things. I have animal skulls and dried roses, a million thrift store shoes, shirts I never wear with nostalgic value, childhood stuffed animals, fragile gifts from BEB. But I'm only bringing a suitcase and four boxes to Ireland, and two of those boxes are filled with linens and art supplies. Part of me is relieved to lighten the materialistic hold, but part of me is already looking around for more stuff.
5. Schedule. I settle so easily into the day-to-day routine. I do relish the opportunity to break out of my comfort zone and recognize habits for what they are, so this might actually be positive change.
6. Mentors. There were so many professors at the University of Connecticut I relied on for advice and support. I am always searching for people who can influence me, and I am afraid every time I have to start fresh, especially considering that I will only have a year in Ireland.
7. Taking care of Scott. My older brother, Scott, has Asperger's Syndrome. I remember when I was around seven years old my dad took the four of us siblings to New York City. I don't remember what we saw, but I do recall the moment Scott got distracted by a poster and was left behind. Though he was only lost for a few minutes, my dad yelled at me for not doing a good enough job taking care of Scott. Even at that young age I was convinced that the situation was ridiculous and that I wasn't a parent. And yet I was steeped in guilt. I'd always naturally taken care of Scott, but from that point onward I made a concentrated effort. When he gets in trouble, I make sure it's my neck on the line. But pretty soon, my neck will be in Ireland.
8. Planning. I want to know everything far in advance. I consider 9 minutes early to be 1 minute late. But Ireland does not run in my time zone. People don't reply to emails. The director of my MA program told me I would pick classes after school began. And Mitchell alumni explained that it was better to arrive in Galway first, and then find housing while staying in a hostel in the meantime. But just like the separation from my schedule, this could have positive impact. My killer planning instincts nearly always rub people the wrong way. I would like to learn to feel less controlling.
9. Art.
10. Resilience.

Art and resilience

One of my paintings. 

There are only two items on my list of things that make me whole coming with me to Ireland.

Art: When it comes down to it, all I need to express myself is an instrument that leaves a mark and a surface. Luckily, my favorite mode of expression fits into a travel watercolor kit and a bag full of micron pens.

Resilience: I used to think that my sadness made me weak, but I realized that I could find strength in the stability of my character. I've always been myself, no matter who my friends are, or where I pitch my tent. This consideration influenced the title of my blog, No More Forts. I don't need to build myself a permanent enclave where I only associate with certain people, where I tie myself down to a building because it's "home", or where I put up defenses to keep out new ideas. I want to let go of my fears and trust that I will come through intact.

Of course, the title is a bit humorous as well, with its reference to pillow forts. Yet even this has meaning as I move into adulthood and try to ignore nostalgia in favor of less comfortable experiences.

Friends

Owi and me.

It might seem odd that I haven't talked at all about the friends I'll leave behind. This is an incredible function of the age in which we live. I have friends I've never met and have only ever interacted with online. And those friends I have from university will remain my friends no matter where I travel. I'll see their updates through Facebook and I can video chat whenever I desire. Some of my closest friends are in China, California, Chicago, Iowa City, and more... so it won't feel too odd to add Connecticut to that list.

And, in a startling twist of coincidence, one of my close friends is also studying in Ireland on a scholarship. Because she might come up from time to time in this blog, I'll protect her anonymity by nicknaming her OWI (Obsessed With Italy... more on that later). Obviously anyone who knows me in real life knows who Owi is and that's fine, but I've been getting hits on this blog from random corners of the globe so I just want to be careful.

In conclusion

I'm going to Ireland to study Writing at NUI Galway. I'm scared, but I'm excited, too.  I can't wait to get started!