Away We Go — Again

Where do you see yourself in a year from now? What about five years from now? And what about 10 years from now? 

You've probably been asked these questions a time or two. Maybe in an interview, maybe in a bullet journal, maybe in just a fun game with friends. It causes you to stop and think about where you are and where you're going. And the end result is different for everyone. They can be lofty ambitions or more practical; travel related or financial related. The options are endless. 

What I've learned though in my 31 years of life is this: those questions suck. 

Yes. I said suck. Sure, they can maybe be a hazy guideline for where you may be going eventually. You could say, I plan to get older. Or I will have a job. But anything more detailed than that is bound for failure. I plan to be financially independent, married, two kids and working my dream job in five years. Good luck with that friends. 

Less than a year ago (June to be exact), I blogged my most popular blog to date. The hubby and I were moving to Scotland. Something I had never dreamed about. Something that would have never been on my "where do I see myself" question and answer page. I cried, I worried, I was anxious, I was thrilled. I ran the gamut of emotions. And as scary as it was to move, we did it. 

The Reality of Living Abroad 

Moving to a new country has it's challenges. You have a general practitioner (GP) that you should sign up with sooner or later. Because if you find yourself in need of one, and haven't done this first step, good luck getting help anytime soon. Make sure to get your national insurance number too, because that is a several week process at best. Want a job? You better apply like mad, the market is fierce for anything that requires a college degree.  

We got through it all. It took about two months to feel fully situated, but we did it. And then that was it: we started a life in Scotland. No longer did we feel like visitors, like tourists that brought umbrellas and stopped in the middle of the sidewalk because we were lost. We were even asked for directions (and could actually get them somewhere!) We got jobs. The husband started school. We started seeing all we could within the borders of Scotland (guys, it's beautiful. You should check it out). 

I've mentioned before that moving is difficult for me. I like to make friends, and I hate to leave them. I want to keep them forever. I am also comforted by stability. I don't like when everything is up in the air. Yet I find myself in these scenarios more often then in a stabilized environment. 

You do find your rhythm, your new normal. You have to. God is good that way. He helps provide comfort in the midst of chaos, of uncertainty. And friends help you feel like you're not so far. They still call, they still reach out. It makes you feel lucky. 

So What Happened? 

Here we are, heading into April in a few short weeks, and life looks like it's taking another turn. Our time in Scotland is ending — much sooner than anticipated. As of June 1st (tentative, but most likely true) we'll be moving back to Minnesota. 

Let's face it, I'm thrilled. I'm a Minnesotan native through and through. Nothing makes me happier than thinking about being in Minnesota. And I've been saying for almost a year now that I'm hoping to only be gone a year. Looks like I get my wish. 

But why the sudden move? Well, lots of things. As much fun as bartending has been, it also isn't a job that can support a 21st century American. Those bills and student loans don't pay themselves. Plus I thrive on working in my field. I've been freelancing this month and I forgot how much I yearned to do work that I am skilled at. 

Edinburgh housing is also more expensive than we knew it was, at least if you want to live in the city center. Sure, if we moved further out, we could probably find cheaper options, but our jobs and school is within the city limits. We originally signed a 9-month lease, knowing we'd have to find a new place to live, but not realizing we wouldn't be staying for more than a year. And summer is especially expensive to find housing. 

As for the hubby's schooling, it turns out that it's much harder to get fully funded in the PhD program than it is in the Masters program. Who knew? 

And let's just face it. I want to have a place where I can paint a wall, and not have to paint it back within a year. I long to be settled. It doesn't necessarily have to be a house, but somewhere we can call home for an extended amount of time. We want kids. We want friends and family nearby. We want stability. Yes. Both of us. Can I get an Amen? 

When, Where, How, And All the Other Things

As mentioned previously, we'll be planning to head home early June. That's about all we got. We haven't purchased tickets. We're knee-deep in the job hunt. We don't have a car. I mean it we probably have no right moving back, but luckily we have family that's awesome and can support our sorry butts until we figure ourselves out. 

Scotland has been good for me. It's been an amazing experience being apart of an unfamiliar culture. And bartending has given me such an incredible view of working with different types of people from everywhere. We've been able to travel as much as money would allow, and even get to hit up Paris before we take off. The list of things we've done here is endless, especially in the parameters of nine months. We are grateful and humbled by the experience. But now it's time to go. Time to go back to the place we call home. 

Do I now know where we'll be in a year? 5? 10? This life has taught me that nothing is certain. 

Someone gather the wagons, cuz the Knapps are coming home! 

Always, 
A 

Making Friends is Easy, Leaving Them is Hard

My ability to make friends has always been relatively easy. Even though I'm secretly freaking out inside, worried I'm annoying this new potential friend and badgering them into hanging out with me. I mean, the fear is so high that I remember walking to our neighbor's house to see if she could come out and play, but filled with dread that I'd ring the doorbell and she wouldn't be home. I didn't want to bother anyone. Talk about anxiety. I was nine. 

But once the anxiety subsides, I'm able push through my own fears and thoughts and build a friendship with this other person. I love it. I love learning about new people, their experiences, their joys, pains, hopes, dreams. The things they find funny and the things that set them off. Everyone is vastly different and everyone has a story to tell. That's one of the reasons I love to read about people and also write about people. 

The one part I still haven't mastered, the one thing that still makes my stomach hurt, is the leaving them behind. 

Leaving Work Friends

What I mean by that is that the friends you make in this life are sometimes only here for a minute. Like when you work at your first job, where you are first exposed to people that may not be in your grade or even your school. Mine was a grocery store. A small-town, grocery store that was being run out by a mega-chain. Most of the employees were highschoolers and it was exciting to be working with seniors when I was a lowly freshman. When that store closed several months later, I was devastated by the friends that I lost because of it. There wasn't Facebook to keep our friendships alive. Maybe the hardest part for me was how effortless it was for everyone else to let go of what we had. 

I moved on to work at a bakery/cafe. I worked there for several years, and every time a senior would graduate and head off to college, my heart would break and I would cry. Of course they always follow up my pity with "we'll come back and visit," but we also all know that those visits get fewer and farther between in the blink of an eye. I've made the statement myself, I think we all have.  

While it still continues to be a challenge for me to let these work relationships go, and while I still hold on to them for dear life until we become acquaintances on social media and I like the pictures of their children and their dinners, I know they are what keep you sane at your job. Without friends at work, the bank I worked at for two long, painful years, probably would have ended more abruptly than it did. Or the friends I made at the bakery/cafe made it more bearable to deal with the tyrant of a general manager. 

Leaving Situational Friends 

To me, situational friends is sometimes a little deeper than work friends. At least that's how I break it down in my mind. Work is situational, yes, but when I think of this group, I think of moving to Boston. We didn't work together, we didn't go to school together, but we lived in the same building while our husbands went to school. Or the people we met in our small group at church. These friends are different because you get to know them on a more personal level. You meet at their houses, talk about where you came from, how long you are sticking around, where you plan on going next. Maybe I consider them a deeper level of friendship because we're grown up (or at least out of high school) and have children and are married. 

I was resistant to making friends in Boston. I didn't want to. I knew we were staying for a short time and didn't want to work on building these relationships up, just to let them fall apart when we left. Plus, I didn't want to dull the relationships back home, all the ones that I left a pin in until we were back to start things up as usual. But eventually, some people dug their way in. One of which I met six months before we were supposed to move back to Minnesota. It made saying goodbye to Boston that much harder. 

A lot of these relationships have stuck, and I was fortunate enough to meet a lot of families that were from Minnesota, making it that much easier to stay in touch. But I still get sad thinking that I can't just bop down the hall to say hello to our neighbors, or go on a run with my running friend, or laugh uncontrollably as we make half-assed Christmas decorations. We can cheer each other on via social media, but I miss the direct connection. It's hard to stay tight-knit when you're experiencing completely different lives. 

Leaving Life-Long Friends

This, by far, is the hardest. I've prided myself on keeping friends for a very long time. I can name several that are at LEAST 10 years old, if not more. If they can get through the rough patches of friendship, then they are there forever. For the good and the bad. Almost like family. Honestly, a friend and I joked about having all of us move to a cul de sac where our families could intertwine. We'd call it "Friendship Village". Nice ring to it, right? 

Some of these friends you meet when you're young, and maybe your ideas on life and the world change and pull you apart. And some of these friends move away and your life slowly drifts into different directions. It's gut-wrenching really. They have known you through some significant times in your life. You expect them to be around forever. Sometimes it's mutual, sometimes it's a slow fade, and sometimes, it's a more brutal release. I'm also fully aware that I might be an oddball and have way too high of expectations of friendships and the longevity of them. 

Does it Ever Get Easier? 

From my point of view, no. There is always a sting, a hole in the place where this friendship used to thrive. Maybe I'm better at expecting it to happen, what with families and moving for work, etc., but I wouldn't say I handle it any better now than I did at 16. Can't we all just be friends forever? Is that such a big ask? Probably. There isn't enough time in a day, or week, or even year to keep hundreds of friendships thriving. Maybe this is just how it's always supposed to be. 

Some people are better at letting go. I call them free spirits. I have friends that seem to always be moving, making new friends, moving again, and they love it. They always have friends everywhere they go and can visit them when they're in town. And that's becoming more true for me, but it doesn't make it any easier. 

I guess I long for the days back in high school when we would all gather into our friend's basement. We'd talk, watch movies, eat, and just do life together. We all went through the same pains, same highs. It was a wonderful time in my life. And if anyone is to ever have that kind of group, those kind of friendships, even if for a moment, then consider yourself lucky. It's a wondrous thing. 

Maybe in the end it's only sad because of the impressions these people leave on you. 

This post is dedicated to all the wonderful friends in my life, whether they be present or if we experienced life together years ago or are just crossing paths now. You've all held such special places in my heart.

Always,

A