How to Fit Your Life into Two Suitcases: Tips for Moving Abroad

Two months from now, I will be living 3,700 miles away from home in a country I’ve never visited before. 

My boyfriend and I have decided to move to Holland, where he is finishing his degree in The Hague. Several months ago, he asked me to come with him and after much deliberation, planning and money-saving, I’ve decided to take the plunge and come along for the ride. When he first asked me, I was terrified. I’ve never ever visited Holland, how could I move somewhere I’ve never been? I don’t speak the language, how would I get around? Or get a job? What could I do as a job? Where would we live? 

Being the planner that I am, I started tackling my list of fears one by one.

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The Inconvenience of Dreaming

At the top of a long list of things I’m currently avoiding doing is the task of packing up my room to move to a new apartment. After that on the list is a series of time and energy consuming projects — ranging in intensity from “make sure mom knows how to pay your bills” to “build an adequate team of donors so you can start your nonprofit job in August” — that have to be completed before I leave the country for a month in less than a week and a half. I am going to work at a summer camp in British Columbia, so not only am I being pulled far away from my normal routine for a month, I am being pulled away to a secluded location with no wifi or cell service, and there is not a more inconvenient time I can think of to do that than right now.

Right now I am worried about packing all of my belongings, not only for a month away, but to move across town. I am worried about having all my ducks in a row for the new job I begin immediately when I get back. I am worried about my bills getting paid and my emails going unanswered and all the toiletries I haven’t even thought about buying yet. Being pulled out of the routine of my adult life at this current moment is more than just a little jarring, it feels completely chaotic.

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Dealing With Heartbreak at 35,000 Feet

Three days after my birthday I got dumped. Plain and simple. I was about to leave for a month in Germany, followed by a more permanent residence in Alabama for graduate school, when my boyfriend said he wasn’t prepared for the distance. It hurt, I cried, and then I drank more wine than I should have.  

I spent the time leading up to my trip to Berlin thinking about the what if’s: What if I wasn’t leaving for half the summer? What if I could stay in Nashville? Would things change? Three weeks of driving myself crazy with questions made me realize that I needed to go to Europe, if only to provide myself with a distraction from neurotically checking my ex’s Instagram page. I packed my bags and in mid-May settled into seat 27C on a flight from Dallas to Frankfurt, thinking that maybe this was a good way for me to take a break from the breakup.

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Nothing is Forever

It’s my first day on the job as a bike courier and when I look into the bag and see what’s happened, I’m sure it’s also going to be my last. Probably, I shouldn’t have put my metal lock in the same compartment as cans of soda. But also… why couldn’t he have just ordered more fries?!

One of the cans has been punched in the gut and is leaking from the corners of its now-bent frame. Actually, it’s just dripping now, it’s done leaking. My entire bag and its contents are soaked.

Did I mention I’m also lost?

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On Making Decisions When You Are Afraid Literally Always

Like a dramatic and silent slow action shot in a cheesy multi-million dollar film, I watched in horror as the barista raised the whipped cream dispenser, taking aim at my beloved mocha. But I didn’t want whip. In fact, when ordering, I had specifically requested no whip, please. An internal battle raged within me on whether or not I should say something. Over whipped cream. I was literally contested over whether I should say something about whipped cream.
 
Because why rock the boat? Even if it’s as inoffensive as asking for no whip.
 
“Don’t say anything,” Fear instructed. Over whipped cream.

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Let It All Go: On Shedding Expectations and Fear

There are a few things that happen when you graduate college. You celebrate school being finished. You send out job applications with big dreams and starry-eyes. You get rejected and ignored. You send out job applications, and LinkedIn invitations, and cover letter after cover letter—you dream about cover letters—you start losing steam. You want a job. You want a job so badly.

You get a job. You celebrate. You go to your first day in a new pencil skirt with starry-eyes. You love it, for a while. Some days you hate it. Sometimes you wish you could go back to that time when you weren’t tied down to your desk, even though that’s all you wanted. You start losing steam. You want a new job, or to travel, or to do what that girl on Instagram is doing. You want that other life so badly.

And it’s not that what you have is bad, or that it isn’t what you expected. It’s that there are so many reasons to tell yourself that you’re doing something wrong. That you didn’t choose the right path.

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Life is (Still) Full of Firsts

Last week, I broke my first bone.

Well, technically, I “acute fractured my elbow.”

I was biking down a busy Toronto street when another cyclist cut me off. When other people tell me about their bike accidents, they always say the same thing: “It happened in a split second.” I can now attest to the fact that it does happen in a split second. One minute I was cruising down the street, thinking about how nice the warm sun felt on my skin; the next thing I knew, I was lying on the hot black asphalt, a transport truck stopped a few feet behind my head. The cyclist helped me to my feet, apologizing profusely. Strangers stopped to stare. My legs shook. Tears streamed down my face. What just happened? Am I okay? Is my bike okay?

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One Year In: 3 Lessons from That First Year of Post-Grad Life

I turn 23 at the end of July, meaning I was the baby of my grade all through my academic career. Being the youngest (among other things) somehow made me feel uncool and likely had an effect on my ridiculous effort to prove just the opposite. Self-expression was key here. I found identity in a flowy skirt, Converse sneakers and a Rolling Stones t-shirt in the 8th grade. “Woah, Lane, that look sounds way chill already—how’d you manage to make it even chiller?” you ask? Braces and a DIY hemp necklace, obviously! The universe had surely never seen anything this edgy. I remember feeling like a fraud but also a badass when asked, “Can you even name a Rolling Stones song?” and responding only with a panicked “yes—of course!” before fleeing the room immediately.

I can name close to 10 (lmao, boom) Rolling Stones songs now, but in many ways I still carry around that same confidence-meets-self-consciousness. It’s this stupid thing where I don’t care what people think about me so much so that I want them to know just how much I don’t care. I believe “caring” is what that’s actually called. So just to reiterate: sometimes it’s hard to feel like an adult.

Reflecting on the year, it bums me out to realize how hard I’ve been on myself. Whether that meant kicking myself for not living up to an expectation or kicking myself for being “too much” or kicking myself for not being enough, there was always a reason to kick. But the thing is, all we can do most of the time is try to exist as we are.

That said, I’ll keep this short and sweet with three pieces of advice for those entering their first year after college.

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It's A Small World: The Power of Vacation

It’s a small world, after all. Or at least if you let it be. 

I hadn’t realized how comfortable I’d become in my little part of the world until I thought about what I wouldn’t have if I stepped outside of it. I was always curious how some people could stay in one place their entire life and be perfectly content until I realized how easy it is to do just that.

It’s too easy to become so settled inside your own small world that you don’t think about what else could be around you, or – if you do think about it – you fear the change.

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Ready or Not: On Finding Balance

Unsurprisingly, ever since graduation, I’ve been having trouble envisioning myself doing this for the next thirty or forty years. As familiar as I am with delayed gratification, this is starting to seem like there’s no end in sight.

I did, however, have about three months off between finishing my degree and starting work. In between all the (additional) studying I did for my upcoming rotations, I carved out some time for some serious introspection. 

I knew I couldn’t continue like this. If there’s one thing I’m afraid of, it’s turning into a jaded doctor that only goes into work for a paycheck and treats each patient like another five-minute appointment - ready or not, next person! - that point when you stop caring about the person sitting in front of you.

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A Letter to the Recent Grad

I took graduating really hard. Like, really hard. I left school having absolutely nothing figured out with absolutely no answers, and spent most of the summer crying to my parents and denying the fact that I could no longer get dollar drinks at the bar (one of the rudest awakenings about post-grad life…). I felt lost without my friends, without the walls of UNH that protected us all so neatly, and without my identity as a student.

…because if I wasn't a student, then who the $%&@# was I?!?!?

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Stop the World, I Want to Get Off: An Amateur Prayer

Things are changing. Not just the usual kind of change, where you finish one thing and move onto the next and then panic and cry like millions of other kids, excuse me—young adults, my age. I'm sure you get that one a lot. The "help me, I'm jobless" one. And I'm sure you do your best, don't get me wrong, but while we're on the subject, how in the world does a kid who spent all of his senior year of high school dressed as the Statue of Liberty and speaking in a mildly offensive German accent get scouted by Google and offered a company car, YouDammit?

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