It’s 3:23 AM in an Abu Dhabi airport, an hour until I board my final flight to fly to Dublin, a month earlier than I was supposed to leave Australia. I’m just reflecting on what brought me here and whether it was the right decision or not.
I decided to leave Australia, ultimately but not only, because of what happened to me when I visited the Melbourne Museum. It has been all I have thought about since it happened, and my anxiety has just spun out of control. I mean, yes, it was a terrible thing to happen, but I like to wonder if the right mindset I could have just moved on. How fleeting should a feeling of anxiety be? Unfortunately, I am not in control of my anxiety, and once it creeps into my mind, I find that it can be very hard to get rid of.
I wonder do I underestimate myself? Am I strong enough? Did I make the right choice? Should I have stayed?
All of this is a case of growing pains. Any time before now, I would have had my mum or a friend on hand to help me make the decision, but this was all down to me. I’m growing up, and so I alone carry the burden of wondering was it the right or wrong choice. My indecisive nature results from an unwillingness to face up to any possible pain or mistakes that I could make.
But as I prepare to board my final flight home to Dublin, I am sure I made the right choice: I want to take care of myself. But there is a small, small part of me that will always wonder what would have happened if I had just endured the anxiety and stayed in Melbourne.
My love and regrets to Australia, but I hope you understand why I had to leave.