six months down, six to go

Well, I'm six months in, and now's as good a time as any to ask - has it all been worth it?

By it, I of course mean uprooting my life, quitting my job, going back to school, and moving countries in order to pursue my dream.

I'm an accountant by trade, so let's start by crunching the numbers. I have earned $0 and spent thousands. I have turned in ten essays for five classes which have averaged first class honors (that's a 70% and above, for you Americans tuning in - a much more difficult feat on this scale!). I have read 33 books, written seven blog posts, and held one job. I have plunged into the freezing cold Celtic Sea. I have travelled to six countries, taken five horseback riding classes and crocheted 19 granny squares. I have walked one alpaca, milked one goat, and slept one night under the stars. I have spent countless hours with cousins, uncles and a roommate who has become like family.

So what does that add up to? A damn good six months, I'd say!

As I write this, I am cognizant that I have been all too often plagued by self-doubt - Have I done enough? Have I done too much? Am I taking advantage of this time? What do I have to show for my year off? Will my dream job be replaced by AI before I even have the chance to show off what I can do? Anyone who has experienced anxiety will be familiar with these nagging thoughts that swirl around your head, keeping you up at night when you're trying to sleep. But then, I remind myself - who cares? I am spending this year the way I want to spend it based on the feelings I have in the moment. For once, I'm following my heart and not my head, and no one (that includes you, future self!) can tell me that I'm wrong.

So how does my reality stack up against my own sky-high expectations? To be completely honest, there's more sitting around on the couch and less adventuring than I had imagined. But isn't that always the case? In August, I looked at my school schedule and saw entire weeks off during which time I dreamed of jetting off to places like Bali, squeezing in a yoga session before reading and writing the day away. Instagram much?

But let's be realistic, past self:

1. I'm not making any money. Why not read and write in the beautiful Irish countryside where I live? Why am I always dreaming of elsewhere?

2. It's rainy season in Bali. If it's rain I seek, I can certainly find it here in Cork.

3. I have to write five essays totaling anywhere from 1,500-3,000 words a piece during this time. Do I really want to hole myself up inside working while in a new exotic locale?

And to be fair, this same concept applies to road trips within Ireland. Gas, lodging, and travel time must be taken into account. Day trips? Sure, bring 'em on. But weekends in Belfast may need to wait until I graduate - chances are the weather will be better by then, anyway.

It is worth mentioning that there have also been moments that have pleasantly surprised me. I was nervous to return to school - let's be honest, it's been awhile and I'm more than a little rusty. Going back to the world of homework, academic essays, and bibliographies was daunting - especially doing it in a foreign system with a terrifyingly severe grading scale (seriously, 70% is an A?!) - but I have loved every moment. It is a completely different experience this time around now that I'm not so focused on the social aspect and don't care what people think of me (or at least, I care less). I appreciate being able to immerse myself in the world of Austen and the Brontë sisters and soak up knowledge about not only their works but also the historical context in which they were written.

Then, there is my American Literature class. I was on the fence on whether to take this course - I'm an American living in Ireland, after all - do I really want to spend this time rehashing what I already know? But what I have learned is that it is fascinating to view something familiar through a different lens - in this case, a European one. We began the class by sharing our preconceived notions and stereotypes of America, and our first slide quoted Joseph O'Neill's description of the country as:

a ‘mentally ill, sick, unreal’ country whose masses and leaders suffered from extraordinary and self-righteous delusions about the United States, the world, and indeed, thanks to the influence of the fanatical evangelical Christian movement, the universe, delusions that had the effect of exempting the United States from the very rules of civilised and lawful and rational behaviour it so mercilessly sought to impose on others. (Netherland, 92).

I picked up my jaw off the floor: harsh, Joseph. But not totally unwarranted either. I feel defensive, but must admit that I've had some of these thoughts myself. Warnings from my Travel Writing class drift through my head - don't stereotype, paint cultures with a broad brush, or generalize. I've been guilty of this too when relating my experiences with "Swedes" and "the Irish" - can I really complain when it is done to me? But I digress... let's leave such political debates to the classroom for now and get back to business.

When I first arrived in Ireland, I agonized over the seemingly simple decision of whether to get a roommate. I had lived on my own for the better part of a decade. Would this change, on top of all the other ones in my life, be the straw that broke the metaphorical camel's back? Yes, we would have our own rooms, our own bathrooms, even our own living rooms if we wanted. But regardless of the appearance I may give off in public, I am an introvert through and through and need time on my own to decompress. Having said this, I had moved to a suburban town with a population of 2,000 as a single woman - maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing to have some company.

So I decided to roll the dice. The housing crisis in Cork meant that finding a roommate was a surprisingly easy endeavor. I joined a Facebook group dedicated to connecting potential tenants with landlords, and messaged a girl seeking a "quieter" living situation. Say what you will about Passage West, but you can't deny that it lives up to that requirement! She moved in the following weekend and we became fast friends. She is Mexican, and Mexican food is one of the things I miss most about growing up in Southern California - specifically: micheladas, ceviche (which we make no less than once a month), and chilaquiles. And while she does not share my guilty pleasure of reality dating shows, we have found common ground with shows like The Maid and Las Chicas del Cable - separate living rooms not necessary!

Finally, I have been pleasantly surprised by work. I was unsure about juggling school alongside a part-time job, but it has been a great experience. I do not (usually) feel stretched too thin, and if I do, work is very flexible about hours. I like the people I work with, the remote aspect to the job, and the daily tasks, which range from proofreading manuscripts, creating cover design briefs, crafting blog and social media posts, reviewing submissions, and performing marketing research. I also love working for a non-profit supporting a cause I believe in - bibliotherapy and mental health.

The TL/DR version is that I have no regrets. That is not to say I don't have doubts, insecurities, and a deep underlying fear that this risk might not pay off. But I'm living life one day at a time and that's good enough for me!