This is one of the most awful and hard posts I have ever needed to write, so please be gentle on me if I make any weird mistakes. You know that I have moved to England last week (if you don’t: here’s the blogpost) and you also know how enthusiastic I was about this change. Unfortunately this is not the happy, positive post I wanted to write about this move. Actually, this is the post where I tell you why I am flying back to The Netherlands today.
“I have not failed. I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work.”
Don’t get me wrong. I still love everything about England: the culture, the history, the creativity and the people. My hostfamily has been absolutely amazing for me, and I have seen a lot of Cambridge already… It’s just that I can’t really enjoy these things..
The first three days I have been here, I have been tortured by huge and longlastig panic attack, filled with crying and hyperventilating. I didn’t sleep good at night and from the third day forward I got horrible stomach aches. At home I couldn’t wait for the adventure to start, but here it just felt lonely and scary. I wanted to go back. I missed everything about my boyfriend and family, I even missed a few typical Dutch things. It was like walking a staircase out of ice (Yes, I have watched Frozen yesterday), wanting and trying to take a new step every single time, but always slipping.
“It is hard to fail, but it is worse never to have tried to succeed.”
Skyping, Telephone conversations, texting, going outdoors, staying indoors: I have tried everything and anything I (and my family) could think of. But the more I was trying to fight it, the harder it came back and hit me in the face. There were two options: staying and trying to pull through or giving up. After talking to multiple (lovely) familymembers at home, my boyfriend and my therapist I cut the string… I booked a flight back to The Netherlands.
It was, and it still is, one of the most difficult decisions I have ever made. You all know how much I was looking forward to this adventure and admiting that this dream maybe wasn’t the best option is always hard and uncomfortable. I have actually enjoyed the days in England, after booking my ticket home, because the anxiety found the exit. I would love to have beaten the anxiety (with a stick perhaps) but sometimes that’s just not possible. Sometimes the best thing is to be able to say:n ‘at least I have tried’.
“Only those who dare to fail greatly, can ever achieve greatly.”
This isn’t the end of my England adventure, I will be back (be prepared!). Maybe not soon, maybe not alone and maybe not for a long period of time but I will see this intire country. I don’t feel like I have failed, I have tried and it didn’t work. There are more roads that lead to the same place…
Thanks for all your support! <3