I must’ve been drunk for those solid six months when I lived in Australia last.
My experience now comparatively is quite different, and I wouldn’t necessarily say it’s a good kind of difference. I fantasized a smooth transition from traveling to immediate work, almost identical to the schedule I had back in the states; how wrong was I.
I have always liked to be kept busy with tasks that not only stimulated my mind, but also provided a social networking base. After arriving in Melbourne just a week ago, it felt as though I’ve been here for ages already; I was unemployed and spending my spare time reading in parks, daydreaming, and selling my soul via each resume handout. I spent days riding the bike to all the cafes and bars to drop off my resume and attempt to charm them into giving me a trial. I spent other days glued to the computer, composing different kinds of cover letters and emailing an embarrassing number of emails with my resume attached, in hopes that someone out of the hundred would respond.
The first time I’ve been unemployed since my teenager years, and I’m going absolute mental. So for a week of no work, leads to a week of heavy contemplation. It occurred to me multiple times of buying a one-way ticket back home; I thought about my credentials; I thought how easy it was to get work last time, degree-less, compared to how difficult it is to find work now, with a degree; I found that life is stressfully funny.
Long story short, I am battling with my inner demons; I am my own worst enemy. I am ever so grateful to have friends who bring my insanity back to ground by slapping me in the face over the interweb. I thought I had “found myself” ages ago, but just kidding, I’m as lost as Waldo.
Why did I make this move? I still don’t know. The day after I turned 23, something changed within me. During my Europe travels, I had a marvelous time exploring and befriending locals, but there was something ever so unsettling. I started to become really offended when people wouldn’t stop asking me where I was from, and then accusing me of lying when I didn’t respond with the presumed country. I decided mid trip that if I were a plain white girl instead of an Asian gal, experiences may not have been tarnished.
I believe that once you’re comfortable with yourself, that’s when others will be comfortable around you. I don’t mind my own company; I’ve learned to appreciate my alone time. But when I’m with someone else, I can’t help but overanalyze every little detail in movement or speak, and that’s my greatest downfall.
I’ve been on an emotional high these past few days – crying constantly with no apparent reason – other than the fact that shit, I’m homesick. Who knew this day would come? Certainly not I. I have become to feel worthless in every aspect in life: romantically, sociably, and educationally. I began to see this one man, who I unexpectedly became smitten over. I annoyed my housemates and best buds back home over every message sent and received, just hoping that maybe, just maybe, this man would be the first to like me back. Then on one off day, we met, we separated ways, and I knew I fucked it up. This event is a daily occurrence with everything that I do.
And by the end of this post, I have realized why I moved to Australia. Not just for the brilliant coffee or all the satiating foods, but to find my self-worth. I aim to find why I am the person that I am, and why as a person am so mental… or not.
Confidence is key, but do I have the brains to back it up? Do I have anything to define my confidence, or does it just become narcissism?
