I’ve just gotten off the phone with my mom, back in New Jersey. It’s a sunny Sunday morning there, and a rainy afternoon here. Her and my dad are on their way to a surprise 80th birthday party for my great uncle. We talk about what new things have happened in the past week since we last spoke to each other. Like the weather here and there. My cousin going round to visit my grandmother (making her so happy, which melts my heart). or my sister having to get her brakes replaced in her car. I let her know about our two hour ordeal opening up a joint bank account, and how we, too, just had to get something fixed on our car. After that, I let her go so they can make their trek up to North Jersey, and I get back to watching Star Wars on the couch with my husband.
I feel a bit sad afterwards, as I do every time I get off the phone with her. I cherish those calls with my family, because I know it’s going to be a long time until I see them in person again.
But that’s the reality of moving abroad – conversations around the kitchen table are now Whatsapp calls and Skype videos. You can’t just pop around to see your parents or your grandma when you really want one of those cozy coffee mornings.
And it’s lonely. And it sucks – like REALLY sucks.
I’ve had people tell me how lucky I am to be able to move abroad. And they are right. I have been given an incredible opportunity that has changed my life, and is bringing so much joy to it. But I have made huge sacrifices to make this possible. I have traded in the normal 9 to 5 workday (sort of) to work remotely as I frustratingly job hunt in London and I know no one, save for my husband and his family. But most importantly, I left behind the one constant in my life, and that’s my family.
For someone like me to not be physically close to my family is extremely difficult. It is the one issue that I am having as I get settled into life here. I am constantly plagued by guilt because of it. I genuinely feel so guilty for leaving them sometimes. I have four siblings, and dozens of cousins and we’re thick as thieves. I know that is never going to change, but I still find myself worried about missing even the littlest thing in their lives. Ffs, I spoke to my little brother on the phone the other day and heard how deep his voice got and it was enough for me to get choked up.
Because I know it is going to be so difficult to visit each other, I’m plagued by so many “what ifs”:
What if they hate me for leaving?
What if they aren’t able to get over here to visit, or vice versa?
What if they miss the birth of my first child?
What if my little cousin doesn’t remember me the next time I visit?
I get very hung-up on those “what ifs”. The absolute heart-wrenching feeling of missing them has led to quite a few *teeny* breakdowns that I know have made me not exactly the easiest person to talk to/be around for my husband. But he’s there for me every time, and without that I would be completely lost.
If it’s one thing that I can take from this experience thus far is that it makes me so damn grateful for my family and the relationship that we have. It’s easy for things (and people) to be “out of sight, out of mind”. But my family is NOT like that, thank god. We love each other so much and always put the effort in to speak to each other, keep each other updated, and send our love to one another, even though we’re an ocean apart.
No matter how far apart you are from your family you are so bound together with love that it does not matter. They know how much you love them and miss them, so be kind to yourself. You are being very brave to live so far away. I wish you so much happiness!
Oh my gosh this was so sweet to read! Thank you so much ❤