Everyone ought to have a little adventure once in a while, right?
So some people like to take walks in the park. Fair enough. Others like to go on midnight roams – also fun. Some may even like a complete change of scenery, maybe a different city or country or continent even. And this is where the difference between travelling and moving begin to show.
When you travel, there’s pretty much no commitment. You just book a hotel (or rent a house, if that’s your style), hop on a plane and enjoy your stay. You may meet new people – friends for life possibly – learn new things, but there’s no definite change. You’re simply taking a break from life as it is now.
But moving is a completely different story. Not only do you get a change of scene and climate and culture, but you also get a new house, a new family doctor, a new dentist. Maybe a new church or mosque. And if you’re between the ages of 4 and 18, chances are you got into a new school too. Now I’m not talking about the first year, where everyone’s as clueless as Cher Horowitz. I’m talking about being the new kid where everyone already has their squad and where everyone knows who eats where and so on. For some, conquering that situation is easy. These are the confident ones or the ones who don’t give a shit about anything. But for the people who aren’t as bold and those who care a shit ton about what people think (e.g., me, myself and I[rene]), it’s not so simple.
We could go weeks without having a single friend. Maybe we speak to a classmate once in a while, but usually, when that happens, it’s mortifying. Every time we decide to talk to someone, it’s the most awkward thing in the world. And every time someone says “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before”, it’s a brutal reminder that we are in fact the newbie, and we are socially cut off from everyone.
This may not be everyone’s case, but it was mine. And I joined my new school (and left my old one) at what to me was the worst time possible: the beginning of senior year. Being the shy person I am, my first couple of months were challenging. Not academically, but socially. And FOMO was basically eating me alive. Long story short, I survived. But not unscathed. My graduation came, and I was glad to leave, eager to start over at a university where everyone is just as new and clueless as me. But then my old school’s graduation rolled around, and all sorts of emotions went into overdrive.
I missed my old friends like hell. I had spent five years with them, not to mention it was at boarding school. So that’s basically twice as much bonding time you’d get at a day school. Maybe even more.
I missed what was supposed to be our greatest year together, and that something I’m not sure I’ll be able to get over.
Don’t get me wrong, I love travelling. Moving, not so much. But apparently, my family moves more than we travel. That can be an advantage at times, but sometimes, it takes a toll on you. Our last move took a toll on me.
And a big one at that.
“Life’s an adventure”, they say. But aren’t adventures supposed to be fun?