A Post Modern "Moving to London" Peptalk

Conflicted about this pho, conflicted about life.

Here we are again, dear constant readers. Ms Violet Dear about to embark on yet another adventure - moving to London for grad school. To say I am conflicted is an understatement.

This time, it feels different. This time I'm not just packing a bag and leaving the kitties with my mum and zipping off for a set amount of time to work and play in the far, only to return to Vancouver with a bag full of weird souvenirs and a belly full of tall tales. No, this time I am really leaving. For a good long while. I sold all of my belongings and have only a few boxes in storage. Leaving and, to coin a phrase, "I don't know when I'll be back again" (but my bags are NOT packed). I will probably use Vancouver as a home base for many years, but I can't see myself living here again, so this feels final. And scary. Can we rewind?

I may have imbibed a bit of wine this summer....

Not too far, mind you, just to the start of the summer. When I arrived to Vancouver everything seemed so far away and idyllic and filled with time. Time to earn money, time to do yoga, time to wear adorable dresses and visit with friends, time to drink good beer and great wine. And I did do those things, in spades. But now it is time to leave the safe cocoon of my mother's suburban chateau and head off back into the wilds of the real world where I have to engage in the daunting tasks of paying for things, and taking care of myself and.... reading.

 Oh yeah. I have to do this thing.  

I have started my required pre-term booklist and oh fuck. Oh fuck fuckity fuck fuck. Vast swaths of teensy text about semiology and hermeneutics and phenomenology and epistemology and I can NEVER remember how to actually apply the concept of ontology and who was Baudrillard again and what does Marx have to do with architecture and oh my god I am dumb. I feel like Carrie White's mother is whispering in my ear and I am in way over my head - let's just hope there's a shortage of pig's blood at UCL.

Anxiety-causing facts also include:

• the fact that I don't yet have a flat and I land in a few days
• my interpersonal relationships are in limbo
•  I now own just a few boxes of random childhood mementos and eighth grade notes. I sold all of the things that made me a functioning adult (like, with a couch and pots!)
• I am really kind of poor 

So what to do, right? Ke garne? The only thing that there is to do, sister. And that is reel in the storytelling, stop psyching myself up and be compassionate, not just to others but to myself. Easy, right?

The three things I need to work on (as always):

1) First of all, I need to chill out and practice letting things be what they will be - you can't control everything, little Dear, nor should you try. That goes for flatmates and boys and pals and BIG SCARY future after school plans. Sometimes I have to take a breath and allow things to happen without stepping in, without meddling and trying to force the conclusion that I want in order to ease my anxiety. That shit doesn't work.

Oh, how I can relate.  (also, I made this meme, which made me really proud)

2) Second, I have to trust that all those things, those things that will "be what they will be?" They will be exactly what they need to be. A guest on one of my walking tours asked me about my career plans post-Masters (I'll be a magistar!) last week:

"So, what will you actually do? Like as a job? Like.... what would your tasks be?" I hesitated.
"erm. Like.... policy? and liasing? and consultancy?"
"Sure, but what does that look like?"
"ehm. Like, I would work for an INGO that deals with heritage and development? Like, I will, erm, work there? At a desk? Doing tasks?"

So I have to trust that I will learn so much about my chosen field - and myself - over the next year at UCL that the big scary career stuff will become more obvious and I will come away with a modicum of understanding of what my day to day skillset will look like. And of course, I'll have, like, a plan to one day pay back this lovely student debt I am accruing *nervous laughter/adjusts collar*.

3) Third, I have to have confidence in my abilities and my intellect and my passion and remember that I can fucking do this, and do it well, because I fought for it - hard - and the fight's not over. I love the subject matter.  I love buildings. I love history. I love learning. And damnit, I love loving things!

So let's see - to sum it up, Dear: chill out, trust that you chose the right Masters program and have confidence in yourself. AND be compassionate to one and all. Piece of cake, right? RIGHT?

See you in Brixton, pals and gals.
xoxoVioletDear