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.

Wrong thinking...

When you get tired, you start thinking the worst things. When you're completely burned out, your mind goes completely left. When you've been burned out for over a month, HO MY GAWD!! That's my mind now and I'm finding I resort to a lot of escapism. At work, I keep a printout of the admissions decision and look at some photos from the summer and winter. You know it's bad when you can look at photos of a -10 degree day and wold take that over your current situation. I think the worse thought is when I feel like everyone has it together but me. This one is usually followed by the fear of failure. The only saving grace is that I've gotten better at not accepting the negative self-talk or shutting it down quickly.

I guess that's mind being a powerful thing in a good and bad way. Just when something good is about to happen is when you seem to go through the worst things. And that tribulation isn't always to teach you a lesson. It may be so you can encourage someone else. I don't know if that's the case. I just know I have to keep telling myself that there is light at the end of the tunnel.

Light at the end of the tunnel

When I started doing a lot overtime a couple of months ago, this all seemed impossible. I didn't know if I was accepted yet, but I always believed you speak things into being. So I expected the best, acceptance, and prepared for the worst, a second rejection, which I would not have handled well. As I said before, most of my friends and family were sure I'd be accepted this time. I guess somewhere in the back of my head, I felt I'd get it, but in the front, nonstop panic and constantly questioning the "how" of it all. You can't get student loans to cover your room and board. I didn't really want them, but I also didn't want anything to stop me.

And of course, the simple fact that I'm stepping out into the unknown. I've always considered myself reserved. Too reserved really. I need a plan just for the sake of having a plan. I need to know what's going to happen next or at least have a dozen different scenarios planned out ad nauseum.  I don't like surprises. So needless to say, this is a lot for me. I'm packing up my life, and cats, to move halfway around the world to get a master's. I know what I would like to focus on, but I don't know how it will translate into a job or hopefully a business.  I honestly feel like you don't really have any control over your professional life unless you are working for yourself. What kind of business would I start? I got no freaking clue!!!! See where I'm going here.  Yeah, me neither. Here we go.

Spaceships don't come equipped with rear view mirrors

Preparing for the move has been more  mentally draining than I expected. With the exception of this weekend, I'm working 50-60 hrs a week to have the money required to get a student visa. Seriously,  Finland says you can't come here without money in the bank to the tune of $7,500. As I've said, I don't like my job and being there so much is rough, but it's what has to be done. The sad part is, I know I'm already burned out. I'm two months into these 50-60 hour weeks and I have to do it for three more months to make the money I need. That's why I went ahead and took today off. I'll be back to the grind tomorrow. I have a GoFundMe campaign that is going slower than I'd like. My family doesn't really have any money to contribute. Dad will sell my car, but it has to happen right before I leave. Living with him has saved me rent, but it's a rural area with no public transport, so I'll need my car right up until I stop working.

Then there are my parents. I had lunch with my mom as a early Mother's Day get together. To say our relationship has been strained throughout our lives is a bit of an understatement. We never really talked about much. I personally find it quite absurd to confide in your mother or parent about things. Don't ask me why. Oh yeah, because their life experiences are completely different from ours and they mostly refuse to accept that. She's proud of me and she says it. But our personalities are so different. My parents have also always been quite blatant with their uneven parenting among their kids. But calling them out about it, well you get the same reaction as say, kicking a puppy. It also doesn't help that I'm a bit of a stubborn asshole, a trait I share with my father. Of course then there's my father. The heavy drinking, heavy smoking man from a small town in Louisiana. I took after him in the heavy drinking category for a long time too. Our similar personalities lead to just as many clashes. I'm prone to brutal honesty, sometimes to my own detriment. Most attempts to filter myself fail miserably. My dad has clearly suffered from some type of depression for a long time, but he prefers to self-medicate with alcohol. His memory is not good and hasn't been for a few years. Mentioning his diabetes and Crohns disease are not valid arguments apparently. I've been back home for a year and the two years before that when I didn't live at home, I always came over on an off-day to help with one errand. It always turned into a full day of work. Checking to make sure his bills were paid, not because he didn't have the money, but because he forgot something was due. The sink full of dishes that are started to smell funny. He hasn't checked his email, which is how most of his bills come now that he's retired. He asks if I spoke to my sisters. Yes, I did. He hasn't heard from them in a week and a half. It's 3 p.m. and he's drunk to the point where his speech is slurring. I tell him he's has to drink less. He says he's not drunk.

I leave in three months. Not two hours away at my newspaper in Lake Charles or 40 minutes away at my apartment. Another continent. An eight time zone difference. I've been trying to make him do more of these tasks himself. A short workday for me is 10 hours, so I can't do it even I wanted to. I never wanted to. I wanted my off days. I wanted to wake up to watch a soccer match and be able to go back to sleep. I wanted help from sisters. Help that hasn't and will probably never come. The sink filled with his dishes, but he cleared them before they started to smell. He's going to physical therapy. A year late. The bills are mostly on time because I'm still checking behind him. Two straight 70 hour work weeks put me out of commission, so I don't know where it is now. There have been more arguments than talks lately.

When I went to Finland in January and February we had an argument two days before I left. I only talked to him three times while I was gone. He wouldn't answer the phone most of the time. I don't know how long it takes for animals to start losing weight, but the cats were visibly skinner. The litter boxes overflowing. This is a parent child relationship to him. It's the one he grew up in and what he expects from us. You don't talk back or disagree. You don't question unhealthy choices. You pick up all the pieces falling apart. And after doing that for well over a decade, you surely shouldn't expect your parent to watch your pets for two months while you abandon them! I mean, start working on a master's degree in a program you love. Nope, not even a little bit. But those were his exact words. I've heard many people make jokes of their parents acting like this. That's fine for them, but this is my life. This is a cycle, one of many I'm trying to break. It's not a joke. I can't do it. My determination, my anger, won't let me. I don't like the anger.  Unless it's something they can brag about. Between the arguments, everyone knows that their child is getting her master's overseas. The master's they are not and can not contribute to. It's all about when it's convenient. But can I blame them? It took 34 years to accept that's where it goes. To ignore that they graduated from segregated schools and a government job was the measure of success. I'm over it all. Mostly exhausted from it all. I leave in three months. And I'm praying that it's not on these terms. I want things on better terms. I want to stop worrying about my dad. I just want things easy, even it's just for a little while.

*PS: title is a lyric from Outkast's International Players Anthem

Where are you going and what are you doing???

So picking up where I left off. Everything went really quickly from there. Emailing happened over the next two hours and Classmate was like, "I'm finna call YOU!" Right now? From Finland? Bruh, what time is it there!?! Fair warning, Classmate does not sound like that. He's very laid back actually and I'd freak out if he said any of these things in real like. He doesn't even curse, which is why I wonder why he's friends with my loud, vulgar ass. Anyway!! That's just how I'm hearing it in my head. This was a lot y'all. It was and still is a lot. An hour and half later, I had basically been told, "you need to get smooth the fuck outta there. Come get this master's degree and use that as a springboard to greatness and just thrive bitch thrive!!!!" He was sure I'd get accepted. Applications were due in two months. Ummm, whet!?!? I was trying to convince myself to even get off the couch. I was failing. I was so confused. I was so drained by everything in my life and this sounded like a great opportunity and I was just so tired. Too tired to move forward. By the way, that's what depression does to you. Get help. Sometimes you can't just fix shit by yourself.

So, Finland was now an option. Or at least I should make it an option. Finland's there. In northern Europe, so I should think about it? Why won't Classmate stop emailing me!?!! That was my brain at the time. I didn't know what I would do next outside of filling out an application. I knew I couldn't stay at my current job. I was not embracing the choice to settle into working at the conglomerate of a company. Why isn't this money making me happy?!?!? I had spent years as a broke journalist and convinced myself that was the missing factor. And back to Finland. It took a minute to calm my mind and just start to look over the programs more thoroughly. Being a history buff, I looked up the history of the country, which I knew nothing about. It was a part of a couple of empires before becoming an independent country in 1917. It's cold as hell there, which I later learned from personal experience. Small population, super hard language. None of this was making me gung ho for the country. I wasn't the most adventurous person before all of this shit I was going through. And where are the black people!?!? I asked Classmates this. Helsinki was the most diverse. I would not be in Helsinki.

Noooooope, nope, nope NOAP! If you hadn't noticed, I was looking for something you put the breaks on all this nonsense. Classmates' so crazy. I went to church that Sunday and told my aunt everything, from the two phone conversations, the email and the fact that I was paralyzed. She said she would pray and knowing that I had been in therapy in the past, she told me to consider seeing someone, even if was to just talk to our pastor and his wife. They both have master's in psychology and are big on promoting mental health. We fail miserably at it here in the U.S. Just the talk was a weight off of my shoulders. Also, she was so sure I'd be accepted.

I'll be honest, I was getting a little angry at that point. Mainly at myself. Like, why the hell can't I have the same level of confidence in myself that everyone else does? This is garbage! I decided, just take the next step, which would be reading the application requirements and process. I'd have help after that. I was terrified, but something, ANYTHING had to change. And it needed to be big. I was in a comfort zone. A miserable, depressed ass zone. Because let's be honest "comfort zone" is the wrong term. But I had settled into a very unhappy situation and despite how unhappy, I had resigned myself to sit there. Even with a possible out, I was just frozen. That first step took a lot. I had to keep telling myself, you'd only be losing some time. After about the 700th (seriously, it was a lot!!!) I actually started.