In 28 years, I’ve moved house a total of eight times. Two of those were to a new country.
Generally, I have no problems living abroad. I get a kick out of immersing myself into a new culture, meeting new people, and getting to explore a place from the inside out.
It’s the build-up to it that I can’t handle.
Anyone who’s known me for years has probably been witness to my pre-moving breakdowns.
It starts with sudden attacks of insomnia … which, for a high school teacher whose sleeping schedule has been firmly stuck at 8pm-5am for the last year, is quite concerning.
You haven’t seen midnight for months and then suddenly, one day, you realise it’s 2.30am and you’re still wide awake
And then it happens again. And again. And again. And, each time, you’re staying awake later and later.
And suddenly you realise it’s been 4 days since you’ve eaten anything. No, wait. You had some crackers 2 days ago. Any other food sounded horrible.
You should probably eat so you gnaw on the apple your coworker gave you as you arrived at your desk this morning.
You google “no appetite and can’t sleep” and remember that googling symptoms is the worst thing you can do because the internet always loves to tell you you have cancer.
Well, I don’t.
This happens every time I move.
The crying fits, the mood swings, the lack of sleep, the lack of appetite.
By now, I tell my friends and family how I’ve been feeling and their reaction is something like this:
They’re used to it.
Same shit, different country.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I’m my father’s daughter.
I wish I could be like my mother – Cool and laid back about anything and everything. Instead, I’m like my father. I get anxious and stressed and worked up and worried about everything.
My mind will actually feel pretty sound and calm and at peace. But my body will react differently.
I try to stay calm and enjoy everything leading up to it but who am I kidding?
It’s never going to happen.
I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I simply suck at moving and that I’m nothing but a hot mess in the months leading up to it.
The good news is that my students haven’t had to witness this. I haven’t taught for nearly 2 weeks because final exams are on the horizon and they’re all busy studying. (Ahahaha, “studying“)
My time in work is filled with preparing lessons for winter English camp and finalising plans for my winter holidays.
Ooooh, winter holidays. I can’t stop counting down the days.
In January, I’ll be backpacking solo around India for 3 weeks. After that, I’ll be heading back to the UK for 6 days to catch up with old friends and loved ones.
The combination of adventure and home comfort is too exciting. And a welcome distraction from everything that’s happening after.
Apart from that, there’s not a lot to report. I’ve been laying low lately (woo! alliteration!) to save money so in my recent hermit-like state I …
+ have recently developed a coffee addiction
+ have become addicted to the show Weeds
+ have finally found underwear here that will cover my fat arse (yayy for XXL Korean sizes!)
Don’t I lead the most exciting life?
Outside of the house, Naju is, as un-Christmas-y as every. Last year, it snowed for most of December which sent me into a holiday frenzy – turning my flat into Santa’s grotto and arranging a big Christmas Eve party.
This year? Barely a snowflake and I’m too lazy to put the tree up.
Maybe this is the year I’ll turn into a Scrooge.