Steps

Every step along the way, I've been catching myself saying, "I can't believe I'm doing this," or "this doesn't seem real." I said it as I landed in a frozen Finland in January, there as a non- degree student who didn't even know if she would be accepted to the full program. I said it when I got the acceptance and started planning the move and  working 60 hours a week to make sure I had enough money. Two months into it and I couldn't believe I'd been keeping it up and not collapsed. Three and half months later, I walked out of my job for good. Turned in my corporate cell phone and badge. And I'm on a plane in two days. I've mostly figured out how to shove my life into two checked bags and a carry-on. And two pet carriers.

It's not that it doesn't feel real or I can't believe I'm doing this. It's in my face and I have no choice. I've switched to "I can't wait to do this," "I can't wait to see what's next." It's all a lot, but what isn't when you step outside of your comfort zone? What great thing do you expect to do playing it safe? For too long, I was ok with playing it safe. You deal with enough shit on a regular basis as a black person, here or anywhere else. But what else was I doing? Besides being miserable?

So in two days, me and my cats are moving halfway around the world to get a master's degree and whatever else happens in between and after, I'm gonna roll with it. My suitcases are full and I keep checking things, but I'm sure I'll be forgetting something. I've never done anything like this. 

Done and Done

The big things are finally done. In the last 24 hrs, my residence permit card has arrived and I received and accepted my housing offer and paid my deposit. Two more weeks of work and I am off to Turku. I will put my car up for sale starting tomorrow. Somehow it doesn't feel real, but I've also settled into it all. Even though, I don't exactly know what "it" is. I mean, I know what my program encompasses and where I want to go with it. I know the program is very rigorous. I think more than anything, I still can't believe I'm doing this. I can't believe it took me this long. So I actually can believe I'm doing this, I just get mad that I didn't have more confidence in myself. Then I'm mad that I'm dwelling on the past. Yes, that's a lot, I know. I really look forward to the heavy course load to redirect all of this brain matter.

Me and dad have been talking. It's very halted and hard to do. I bring in the mail and ask him how his day was. It's time to put my car up for sale and I ask him how to proceed. He always responds. I can read his body language. He's still not handling my leaving very well. But maybe like me, he doesn't want me to leave with us on such bad terms. I don't know how that will go. It's a start and that's all I want really.

A Good Crazy

Since, my first few posts were kind of filled with angst and depression, I thought I switch and focus on some of the good parts of this big move. When I went in January, I left my pets (yes plural) with my dad and that was the expected disaster. He complained before I left. He wouldn't answer the phone while I was gone and they were visibly skinnier when I got back. Yeah...

So I decided they'd be coming back to Finland with me. It's been a world wind of microchipping, rabies shops and I have to get a health certificate within 10 days or leaving. All of this is fine and not nearly as expensive as I suspected and it's a welcome distraction from work. So here are my critters. The big ginger is Matty, named after my childhood cat Matthew, the grey is Bruce and the black cat is Francesca or Frankie for short.

Yes, I'm a proud crazy cat lady. I like all animals as I grew up with cats and dogs, but randomly ended up with three cats and here's how. In 2011, right after I moved to Lake Charles, a co-worker had a stray who gave birth under her carport. I asked for one and my mom said she wanted a ginger cat because it reminded her of our childhood cat. I got Bruce, the Maine Coon. Only a week after, my apartment announced animals weren't allowed anymore and no one was grandfathered in. I took both to my mom's where they stayed for two years. I got laid off and had to move back home. While home, I worked out at a nearby YMCA and Frankie was there. A few staff members had bought food and started feeding her, but one guy kept talking about how he'd trap her in a plastic bag and throw her in the pool. I told him that serial killers and the like hurt animals before they escalated to people. He said he was joking, but his co-workers thankfully started watching him closer. A few weeks later, I come to the gym and they tell me, he had kicked Frankie twice just this morning. Instead of choke-slamming him (and ending up in jail), I told the employees I'd be right back. I went home, got my pet taxi and took her home. I got her fixed, and got her shots. Of course, when I moved out, my mom didn't want to be stuck with three cats and I honestly didn't want to leave them. 

I am one of those people who love that cats do their own thing despite what others, even their owners think. In the case of my cats, they just knock a lot of shit over. Most of the things I want to knock over are metaphorical: patriarchy, racism, colorism. we'll see how this goes.