One of the biggest transitions in my life was when I moved to Ireland for grad school.
When I reflect on my time there, I mostly remember the good things. I wrote more than I ever had (let me know if you want to read anything I wrote during that time...that includes a full-length thriller movie), I made great friends (some on my own and some through school), and I got to live in a beautiful country. I admire myself a bit for taking the risk of moving somewhere where I didn't know anyone and where things were different than my norm (not that there aren't great similarities between Galway's culture and Chicago's) and I have some great, great memories from my time there like us singing with my cohort, my first murderino meetup at the King's Head, and seeing the natural Irish beauty with friends and family who came to visit.
But there is a side that I haven't talked about much. Being away from familiar people and places as well as stress with my dad and my natural chemical imbalance really got to me. I had some dark times in Ireland. I remember crying on the phone to my mother saying I wasn't sure if I loved myself. I remember being so sick I could barely get up and go to the bathroom. I remember looking at myself in a swimsuit and absolutely sobbing.
Now some of these stresses would've been with me even if I wasn't in Ireland, but the lack of familiarity was definitely jarring. Additional ones that came with the transition included awful roommates (who literally made fun of me for having asthma), imposter syndrome of being in a creative writing program when I felt like I wasn't good enough, and adjustments to life in a much smaller city. Even when I first landed and failed to describe where I needed to go to my cab driver, I felt like a failure.
I often felt like I wasn't taking enough of an advantage of being in Galway. I didn't travel enough, didn't write enough, didn't meet enough people, didn't go out enough, and didn't grow enough. Looking back, while I certainly could've done more, I think I did the best I could given how I was doing at the time.
My biggest regret with my transition to Ireland has been my failure to keep in touch with enough people. I have kept in touch with some, but I miss the writing community I had there. I want to reach out, but I feel like it's been too long to do so now. I want to go and visit as I feel like that'd be a natural way to try and see people again, but I can't afford it right now and probably not for a while. It's already been four years and I feel like I haven't done enough with my time there. I'm not a writer, I don't have a community in Ireland waiting for me, I haven't really accomplished much.
I also remember coming back to Chicago and initially feeling unmoored. I felt like I'd broken my connection to my home and like I didn't really belong anywhere. That changed overtime, but it was still difficult.
But, I'm supposed to talk about what good came of it. I definitely learned to accept more help, how to make a community somewhere where I didn't have any roots, how to write better and keep up the habit, how to improve my photography, and how to travel solo. I built beautiful memories that I will cherish forever (they're why I wear my Claddagh ring every single day). And I bonded with both people and places I never would've experienced otherwise.
(Prompt provided by Eleanor Pratt)
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