My last post was about the trials of packing, this post is about what I am feeling this very moment.
I’m scared.
It’s starting to really hit me. I think what opened this dam of emotion is something my grandmother said to me. She asked if my father was sad that I was leaving. So while I figure he’s not the happiest about it, he hasn’t expressed anything major. But she said that when she asked him what he thought about me leaving, he said, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
That hurts me. The idea of my strong, stoic father hurting or sad because of me grinds my world to a halt. My eyes blink rapidly to hold back tears, and my breath becomes slower as I try to stable my breathing. Perhaps this sounds overly dramatic, but this is what’s happening.
The reality check that my grandmother unwittingly gave me, reminds me of what I’m doing. I’m leaving everything I know so well. I’m leaving my parents, my family, my friends that I’ve had for years, my friends that I’ve known for a short time but still have become so important in my life. The life that I’ve lead is about to steer in a direction I don’t know. And now I’m not sure I’m ready.
I was ready a month ago. I think I was ready even a week ago. My flight is in six days, and now I am having major shortness of breath.
I know what people will tell me. You have family in Israel, you’ll make a support network there, change is hard, transitioning difficult, you can do it. I know these answers and I know the truth of them.
But all the answers in the world don’t stop this feeling.
I’m scared.
