Wishful Thinking

I have been living in Ireland for two years now and I thought I had figured my life out here. I have a solid group of friends I can rely on, I have a home (the Villa Donna) that feels safe and welcoming, I know a lot of Irish slang, I have started to develop a slight accent, I know where to shop for everything since I don’t have Target to rely on, I have my favorite pubs, and I have my favorite spot for a spice bag! Surely, I’m a local now!

But I have been feeling a bit off as we approached August and my moving anniversary. Life has been a bit hard these last few months, with the death of my sister’s partner, so feeling a bit more homesick for Michigan than usual hasn’t been out of the ordinary. However, it’s felt more than just being homesick in the last couple months, but I couldn’t quite name why or how. Then, a couple weeks ago, I was texting with my best friend Penny, and she was updating me on some happenings in her life with her family and it led to a conversation about future plans for her. Penny and I have known each other for a decade now and our friendship has always been long-distance, so we’re experts at staying in touch at this point in our friendship. She has been in a serious relationship for the last year, and it has made me so happy to see her be with the man I always pictured her with. But that night as we were texting about our futures, I realized that I had met my best friend’s partner, someone she sees a future with, just once, briefly. The realization came over me slowly and I felt the grief and sadness at realizing that fact washing over me. I cried in bed before going to sleep that night. While I’m so happy for Penny and the life she’s building, it was a stark realization that I’m not in her life the way I used to be. If I was still in Michigan, I would have hung out with Penny and her partner nearly every week and would know him as well as I know other friend’s partners… but because I made the choice to move away… I don’t.

Grief is a lot more complicated than just missing someone after they die. You can grieve over several of life’s situations and experiences because grief is ultimately about loss, not just death. With Luke’s death in March, I know that my grief stone has been the heaviest it’s been for a long time. With the weight of his loss on my sister and our family, I have begun to also really feel the loss of my life in Michigan. The loss of the community and sense of belonging, purpose, and awareness I had with my community there. Well, it’s not a full loss of community because I know my people there still are my people… but it’s different, right? The community has changed. I’ve had to change my role and place in the community and with that change… comes grief.

It makes me sad that my friends in Ireland will never know a Burrow (my home in Michigan) party.

I love not hating my job.

I wish my loved ones in Michigan could see the life I’ve built here.

I am so happy I get to see more of the world.

I feel so guilty that I don’t call my loved ones back in Michigan enough.

I’m blessed to feel like my heart feels too large and wide with all the people I care about.

My heart also hurts because all the people I’ve loved in my 33 years won’t ever fully meet each other.

For the last two years, I’ve been so focused on the joy of living out one of my dreams, and there is still much joy to be had, that it hadn’t really hit me until now that I can’t have everything I want. Seems obvious, maybe, but I was naive and hopeful that I’d be able to make new friends, while keeping in contact with all my loved ones back in the States, while also completing a PhD program. Instead, there will be days, maybe even weeks, that go by that I don’t talk to some of my loved ones. When I realize how long it’s been, guilt consumes me so much that I still don’t text them until I can shove the guilt aside long enough to send a text out.

My feelings of guilt aren’t followed by strong feelings of regret. I think it took me this long to feel this way because I have been so happy with my decision to move here and pursue a PhD. But I know the importance and value of being able to hold two, oftentimes contradictory emotional truths at once, so being able to name how I’m feeling has helped me start to process this phase of living abroad.

It’s comforting to know that I’m not alone in feeling this way. Most of my community in Ireland are also immigrants, so we talk about the ups and downs of living abroad often enough that I never feel alone in my grief. Even when I talk with my loved ones back in the States, they understand. I told Penny how I was feeling after our conversation and she told me she has had similar feelings about my life and how she hasn’t met Finn either. I have a sister who has also lived outside of Michigan for over a decade, so she’s always one of my go-to texts when I need reassurance that I’m not the only one to ever feel torn between two homes.

I am so grateful that I’m living the life I want to be and have so many people in my life that I love and rely on and who are cheering me on. But I also really wish I could just hop on a train and visit my niblings for a weekend. I wish that my friends here could easily join me on that train so they can experience a Lake Michigan beach day, a beer at Pigeon Hill, or enjoy a s’more around a bonfire in my parent’s backyard. I wish my mom could pop over for bi-weekly dinners like she used to. I wish Penny could be my concert and travel buddy like she used to be. I wish my loved ones back in the States could stop by the Villa Donna anytime they wanted, like they did when I lived in the Burrow.

I feel nostalgic for both the past and the present and I am just trying to not let the feeling consume me.

So here's to the end and new beginnings
Running straight to the edge, no second-guessing
And we'll grow old, I know, but they never fade
The days when we were living our wishful thinking
-LÉON, Wishful Thinking