Tuesday, 8 April 2025

Beautiful Storm: Preparation for Change

So now that I have my parents’ permission to move abroad life becomes a bit of a mess. A mixture of interview calls with the university, checking my passport, getting a visa, communicating with the school and issues with paying tuition due to exchange rate I felt a lot of panic and a bit of regret. I wasn’t sure what I was doing. I had a good life in Canada. I had a job that I finally enjoyed, I was going to go to school with my friends, and I got to work with the dog rescues that I loved. But I knew that with everything beautiful comes a storm. So, I worked hard to get through the storm. Waking up at three AM for a call became the new normal. After quite a while of nonstop stress and worries I finally had a chance to take a breath. The calls were finished, visa applications sent in and now it was time to focus on finishing grade twelve and making sure I actually graduated high school.

Breaking the news to my teachers that I was going to follow my dreams and move abroad was a strange mix of emotions. It was a mix of “In your face, I can do what I want and I’m proving the doubters wrong” and “Damn, these people helped make me who I am and now I’m just leaving.” The love and support that I received from teachers and friends was something truly beautiful, but it also made the move a lot harder. Before talking to them and hearing what they had to say I had a little bit of guilt about moving and leaving but the excitement was overpowering. But by the time everyone had said how proud and excited they were for me, I stated to feel really bad. I was leaving my best friends, my family, and again the teachers who helped raise me. What was I thinking?

This is when the regret really started to show up. So, what did I do? I ignored it. I did everything in my power to avoid the topic of me moving. I had done my rounds of making it my whole personality and now I was tired of it. Everyone knew at this point of what I was doing. But with everyone knowing came WAY too many questions. And to be honest, these questions really annoyed me. Not because I was tired of getting questions. Trust me, I like when I am a main topic. It was the fact that with every single question it became even more real. The fact that I am leaving any 17 years old to live on my own in a new continent was becoming real. And that scared me a lot. I don’t like change. Which is funny to say as I write about how my dream is to live a nomadic life where I move around and see the world. But I do not. I like when I know what’s about to happen. I like when I know all about the place I live and when everything stays the same. But I couldn’t say that now.

One problem that came from this avoidance is that I forgot to check the availability of my medications in Hungary. Spoiler alert, they aren’t available, and I would have to totally switch over medications. Now when I came to realize this, I didn’t have enough time to get off my current medication try new ones and set in stone which ones I needed. So, I had my doctor prescribe me three months worth of each medication and write up a letter outlining my diagnosis and reasoning for each prescription for my doctor abroad and the customs agents.

Honestly, during these few months of preparations and chaos my brain went full auto pilot mode. I panicked and mentally I hid. But somehow, I was still successful. So, it was finally time. I got my visa in the mail, I have the currency, and I have a place to live. There was nothing else to do other than my final “See you later” to everyone. So, my parents invited a bunch of family and friends to come over for a little party. There was food, drinks, music, dancing, and most importantly there was love. A LOT OF IT. And it was amazing. I saw family I had not seen in a while. I got advice from neighbours on how to survive college/university and I got to watch my brother tear up as he gave a little heartfelt speech about me. After this goodbye party it was time for the more personal goodbyes. Meeting up one on one with my friends to say goodbye, swinging by my favourite teachers classes to say, “See you later” and of course interrupting one more SRC meeting leaving many confused as to why I was there.

And now it was time to go.


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