The start of it all

I stopped school. Dropped out. I'm not sure if I regret it yet or not, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. I wasn't doing much. Not because I'm lazy, though I have those moments as well, but because doing something --anything-- had me scared to death.

I've learned in the past that not all fear is something you feel in your stomach or throat. It can be something you feel in your head as you're trying to sleep, in your hands as you try to pick up something or in your mouth when you say things you wish you could take back.

So I was scared. Again. Twice a year, a few weeks before cram weeks, the fear hit. There was no reason for it, but the stress had me paralysed. The first year, the fear landed me in a hospital, where I learned to recognise it. The next two years, I tried to live with it. This year, I decided I didn't want to. I decided to put my health in front of my education. My head in the copilot seat.

I am sad because I probably never will have a degree. My friends and professors will be missed, as will the gorgeous campus and the amazingly helpful staff that came with it. If you have your choice of universities in Belgium to go to, I highly recommend the Vrije Universiteit Brussel. They helped me through more than I thought I could ever bear and taught me a lot.

There was no plan B. Ever since I took my decision to try and become a teacher--there was no plan before that one to speak of--I didn't consider I couldn't do it. I still think I could, but then I look at my mother and realise that I don't want that kind of life. Teachers have to please three different audiences, all with vastly different priorities, or live with the stress of having one or more constantly on their backs.

There was a vague plan for after school, though. I would move to live with my boyfriend and try and get a job near him. And that plan was still valid. It would have to be a smaller job, a simpler one, and I had no idea what I could or couldn't do. The boyfriend lives in Germany. My German is good, but not flawless. His father offered me a job, but the economy threw a wrench into that plan. His mother has since offered me a job in her nail salon, provided I learn from her for three months, at home, and afterwards as I work. The beauty of EU citizenship is that you have 3 months to live unregistered in a country--and you can only register as living there once you can prove you can support yourself. So it should work out.

I like the idea of that job. I like talking to people, and I like puttering at small things. I always have. So I said yes.

I have enough savings to last three months, maybe a bit longer, and a wonderfully supportive boyfriend. His family is amazing and looks forward to my moving over. I've looked up things to do in and around Coburg, the city I will be living in. I think I'm ready. I'm dead scared, but as ready as I can be.

What scares me is flying solo. What scares me is that there is no guidance counselor. No therapist for at least three months. Maybe not enough medication, even, and I don't do well off it. And what if it goes wrong?