I’m not surviving Europe anymore. It’s in the past tense now. You could say I survived Europe.
I have been back for three weeks and still have not unpacked. I have three black suitcases sitting on the floor next to my closet. They stare at me everyday and say, “Open us! Get over it already.” Those three black bags contain my life for the past year and a half. Clothes, shoes, pictures, music, books, artwork, gifts, little cards...everything. Those practical and sentimental objects have been waiting patiently to come out of the dark.
Why have I put off opening those bags? They are just things. What am I afraid of? Today I told myself today was the day. Today I will unpack. But instead, those three bags are still full, sitting next to me, staring at me. Instead, I am sitting at my computer crying. I’m not going to lie, I’m listening to Adele. She is not helping but she’s right, “Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead.”
For those of you who know me, you know my story. For those of you who don’t know me, I have a secret. I didn’t just move to Europe because I’m a bad ass and wanted to live my European dream. Well that was only part of it. I fell in love and I fell hard. I moved to Europe to start a life with a wonderful German man. A month ago, that wonderful man cheated on me. My heart died. It was more than broken, it was lifeless, numb and well just...dead. A year and a half ago I moved across the world, sold all of my things and said goodbye to my friends and family because I believed in love. Maybe I feel as if my heart died because that belief is gone now.
In a blink of an eye, my life changed. I broke up with that wonderful man, quit my job and booked a one-way flight back to LA. I said goodbye to all of my German friends and family including his 7-year-old son. Let me rephrase that, I had to say goodbye to our son. It was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do in my entire life.
Now I am here in California...in tears...sitting next to three full suitcases that I can't open. At least not yet. It hurts too much. They still smell like the laundry detergent from Germany. It still makes me cry to see a life that didn’t work out. A life I had so much hope for.
But now it’s time for me. At least that’s what my friends have been telling me. It’s my time now. Time to find myself again. Time to find out what the hell I’m going to do with my life. Time to rebuild. Time to find my passion. Time to find my purpose...whatever that may be.
To my German friends and family, thank you for helping me and teaching me about your culture. Thank you for making me feel at home. I love you and I will never forget you.
To my American friends and family, thank you for welcoming me back with open arms. Thank you for listening. Thank you for hugging me tight when you see the tears start to roll down my face. Thank you for the encouraging words. I love you guys. Maybe you are right. Maybe now is my time...
