“Sometimes homesickness feels like getting stabbed in the chest.”
That’s a direct quote from me. But let me be very clear – I wrote this in a highly emotional moment when I was throwing the dark thoughts out of my head so I could rid myself of them. I’ve also never been stabbed in the chest and in reality, can’t imagine it would feel similar.
What I was referring to is the homesickness surprise attack. Because when I return to Austria after a few weeks in Oz, or when I wave goodbye to my parents at Vienna airport, or when I get off the phone from a friend enjoying their warm summer on the other side of the world, I expect the homesickness. And because I’m expecting it, and I’m ready for it, it doesn’t seem to hit as hard. I can have a cry, I can get a hug from hubby, or I can sniffle a bit and remind myself that this was my decision.
‘Sneak attack’ home sickness is the one that stabs you out of the blue.
I’m usually a fairly optimistic person. But I have been a bit down lately, as many of you read in my recent blog posts. But I have to say a big thank you, to everyone that reached out to give me a bit of love and support, and reminded me that it is all going to be ok. Because it is going to be ok.
I was already feeling more positive… the sun was shining, the weather was warming up… and despite the fact that the world was still being super crazy, I was doing ok at letting go of things out of my control.
And then suddenly I found myself on a plane to Australia.
Before I moved to Austria I don’t think I’d ever been in a cellar. In Australia you build a shed. And when you run out of room you build a bigger shed. Or you store stuff in the roof space. When we started looking at houses in Austria I pointed out a nice, cute, one-story place to hubby. He was unimpressed – apparently the rule was no-cellar-no-buy.
I couldn’t understand it. But because everyone here grew up with a cellar, they class it as essential. In the same way that I had to have a hills hoist in the back garden, hubby had to have a cellar. And I must say, I have adapted to having a cellar. I couldn’t imagine life without it now. Why, you ask? Read on!
I’m a crier. Anyone who knows me knows that. And what’s more, often I actually like crying. I enjoy the release of emotion. I feel like it’s something I need to do on a semi-regular basis to stay sane. If it all gets too much, on goes the Notebook or Armageddon… and off I go!
But now my tears are getting confused.
How to start? Cliché, cliché, cliché, is all I can think of. So I’ll just say it. A few days ago my dog died. And I’m devastated.
None of which, by the way, I saw on my recent trip to Australia.
I hadn’t meant to go back to Oz at the end of the year, but with hubby’s new job, I suddenly found myself a-flush with more leave than him, and we decided it was a good chance for me to take the trip on my own.
So off I tripped… for a whole month… just cause I could.
Growing up in Melbourne I’ve always been close to the beach. Our family holidays were often coastal and featured a lot of swimming both in surf and the calmer waters of the bay. From about the age of 10 my parents joined us up to a sailing club in Safety Beach, and from then on, until I decided I was too old to spend Sunday’s with my parents, we were there every week from November to April, rain hail or shine.
I enjoyed a busy summer of visits this year… just two short weeks after one of my besties visited, along came my parents.
My folks have visited three times now, and it’s already their second staying in our house. Luckily the house is big enough (for everyone to have his own bedroom if they so choose).
See the blanket of clouds… I live under them 😦
Five years ago today I arrived in Austria.
I remember the pre-winter sky being impossibly blue. Nine degrees and sunny was pretty good for that time of year.
I was there on an adventure – a quest of love – a gamble.
I had no idea what was to come.
I could not have imagined that five years later I would still be here.
Netflix is great… isn’t it?
Well, whatever your opinion it’s a bit of a turnaround for me, because I was always the one that insisted I would never pay for TV. I didn’t need all those extra random channels full of repeats and garbage… what was available on free to air was perfectly fine.
To be fair I wasn’t a huge TV watcher, but still.
Then I arrived in Austria. And suddenly TV was all German. All German. All. The. Time. And so I just stopped watching TV completely. And I did weird things like actually hiring or buying DVDs.
And then came Netflix.