Sophomore year, studying abroad was a striking idea. Captured. New people, new adventures, new cultures were all I needed to hear. It seemed like all my passions rolled into a joint. How could I not want to?
So, I went through the process, writing what I thought of as an unnecessary essay, as I still do now, & applied. Weeks leading up to that decision letter nearly killed me. Anxiety through the roof & thoughts soaring, will I live in Europe for months?
Excitement bursted from within receiving that congratulatory letter as it was official. I’d have the summer and only one semester left at Loyola. I couldn’t wait to leave. I was ready.
Fast forward, summer is over & just a few months left at school. I was leaving not to go home for the weekend or to the retreat house but to Europe. And that scared me. Friends left behind, my home moving on without me, and my faith trapped at school.
I remember going to university info sessions for my older siblings where I first heard of studying abroad. From then, it was a dream. One I fell in love with each day as moments brought us closer and closer. And now it’s here. My obvious dream. Even closer, are the doubts.
Here I lay in bed wondering, is my passion to live stronger than my love for those connected to me. Are those two different things? Is studying abroad the knot between two ropes or the scissor?