What I Wish I Knew Before Moving Abroad
The days and weeks leading up to the flight can only be described as electric. I would spend hours talking to Brits I would soon meet and had high expectations for friendships. I was absolutely sure I was going to be okay. I was annoyed with everyone telling me, “you’re so brave for moving abroad,” because I didn’t feel brave. It felt normal, just like everyone else moving to uni except a bit further away.
It wasn’t until the day of the big move that I recognized my miscalculations. I finally understood why everyone was calling me brave. At this moment, I felt so far from brave. This was my first international flight alone, my first time away from home for more than two weeks, the first significant moment of my life I had to spend alone. And, for the first time in my life, I watched myself put one foot in front of the other through tear-filled eyes.
I dreamed of the day I could film or experience the classic move-in. Where my mom and I would drive down to uni, unpack in a tiny room with no ventilation, and have one last dinner before goodbyes. I thought I would spend my days walking across campus from class to class, eating the same old food in the cafeteria, and going home to the same room that I shared with another human. I may go to a sports game in my free time or hang out on the grounds, and I would definitely join some clubs. I didn’t think I would move into a shared flat, cook myself dinner in a full kitchen, and hang out with my flatmates (none of which I shared a room with). A year later, I go to a single classroom on campus, coming home afterward to a house I share with some friends.
That first year following wasn’t much easier than the move-in. Mostly due to the pandemic and my social awkwardness. I thought I was moving to loads of new friends, but I had never felt more isolated. I had my flatmates who helped me settle and were a massive support during the transition, but I hadn’t had to make new friends in three years, and I had completely forgotten how. Of course, that’s not a unique experience for significant changes like moving to school or growing up in general. It’s just a bit jarring when you’re three thousand miles away from your closest friends and everything else you know. Suddenly you’re in a sea of unknowing, and it’s so hard to stay above the crashing waves.
When I left my friends behind, we all promised to stay in contact “like every day,” but I moved two time zones away. Six hours ahead. My middle of the day is when they wake up, so I can only talk late into my night, and I’m either busy or asleep. We never stay in contact anymore, only sending brief messages. But, recently we found an app that might help. I’m learning to accept that it’s part of growing up, but it’s hard seeing them all go back home so often, not knowing when it’s my turn or if they will even be there when I visit.
My experience is so much better for my situation, but I can’t help but grieve lost expectations. I have learned to romanticize my life now as if I was making those videos I watched so long ago. With my Asda trips, time spent with friends on the beach, walking everywhere (even in the rain), books piling up around me as I work into the night, trying to keep my constantly messy room tidy, meals gone wrong. The good. The bad. And everything in between.
This goes out to any international student: you are not alone in your experience, good or bad. For any prospective international students: it will be worth it no matter how hard it is. I wouldn’t change anything for the world, and I don’t see myself ever going back.