Up until now, as much as I could, I’ve avoided thinking about the inevitable change I’ll have to make in September — that is, moving to London, thousands of miles away from everyone I love. It’s not that I’m not excited, I just haven’t really been able to process how different my life will be in just a couple of months. And, to an extent, I don’t want to.
Looking back on my move in 2011 from Finland, it seemed easy — I don’t remember any times I struggled with my new life in America — but in reality, I cried on the first day of Kindergarten, and it took me five years to become fluent in English. But in the end, I did it once (albeit I was barely conscious then), and while I’m afraid to do it again, it’s worse to run from the inevitable than it is to confront it. On a recent rewatch, I noticed this in “The Truman Show”. It seems unlikely at first, but in reality, everything Truman Burbank knows about his life changes throughout the movie, and he manages to confront it at the end when he leaves the studio that he lived in during his entire existence — quite literally beginning a new life on the outside world. Of course, my case is different (as in my entire life hasn’t been a lie), but there’s this similarity in how both I and Truman have to make emotional and physical changes in life.
For many seniors, including me, this type of change — a new environment (and for Truman, a new world) — is terrifying. I’ve gotten so used to my life in America that the thought of no longer living at home almost keeps me up at night. But home, like my sister said a few months ago, is where the people I love are, and therefore it’s mainly the act of leaving everyone I know and entering a new country with zero human connections that is unfathomable to me. Julian Casablancas encapsulates this when he sings “I like it right here, but I cannot stay” in the song, “Hard To Explain” by The Strokes. It’s also one the main gripes that Cooper in “Interstellar” deals with. Roped into blasting off to deep space to save humanity from extinction, Cooper is forced to leave his family, particularly his daughter, behind. I’m not comparing myself to the bravery of Cooper, yet both him and I had to make a similar decision. It’s just, on his end, he was pretty positive he wouldn’t see his family for at least a few decades, while I’ll try to visit a few times a year.
A part of me wishes I could stay in this bubble: continuing age–old relationships, and pursuing a career in film while still being with my family. In reality, I eventually have to move on with my life, and while I looked forward to being an adult as a child, I wouldn’t mind staying for a little longer before I have to face the real world.
