The
Abolition of Apprehension
Sunday November 29th.
The train was pulling in to Sydney’s International Terminal as the ethereal
electric guitar of Angus and Julia Stone's 'Big Jet Plane' began playing through
my headphones. The air-conditioning in the carriage was unrelenting and seemingly
set to ‘icy’, with only intermittent breaths of warmth seeping through the top
level of the carriage at each stop.
England
is cold at Christmas. It’s time I got used to this. With twenty-seven
days to go until I was set to migrate to a country I knew very little about, the
anxiety was fast setting in.
My chest tightened,
a wave of sadness overcame my very being and a shortness of breath ensued. My
eyes became unfocused; all that was tangibly ahead appeared to be a blur, my
vision only welcoming the uncertain depths of what my mind chose to project:
a vignette perspective of my immediate future - the possibilities of ‘what
could be’ in the UK in the coming months.
I thought of all I
was leaving behind: my beloved family, my closest friends (some of whom I’d
know for decades). I thought of my beautiful German Shepherd and the
cataracts in his left eye. I felt like whimpering, crying to myself as I rocked
gently with the sway of the moving carriage as it pulled into Domestic
Terminal. I considered the reality that I may not be there to see him go, and
felt guilty - even selfish for leaving him behind, with no way of communicating to
him from the other side of the world just how much I loved him.
I thought about the
wonderful students I'd developed a strong and supportive bond with, and
considered how far they'd come in such a short period of time; their improved behaviour
and newly found sense of confidence in the classroom formed the foundation of
my memories at the school. In that moment of introspection, I felt so proud to
have played a part in honing their sense of self, but also disappointed and
again, guilty that I would not be there to see them graduate. I felt as though I were
letting them down.
As the train
departed Mascot’s platform, the dark tunnel the carriage had now entered had
begun to resemble the amalgamation of conflicting thoughts and feelings I'd had
over the last few months leading to my impending migration.
I saw more commuters
enter the carriage at Green Hills Station - the majority carrying or dragging
suitcases with them in excess. I fantasied about their
stories, particularly the families with small children in tow. Are
they tourists here in Sydney? Are they new migrants to our sunburnt land? Are
they travelling for work, like me? Is my homeland more prosperous than theirs?
Am I arrogant to complain about how ‘bored’ I am in Sydney when its beauty and
conveniences are always at the tip of my fingers?
As the train climbed
the slow decent of the underground tunnel out into the open air, the exposure
of the convoluted railway lines reminded passengers bound for Central Station
that they were due to alight. The morning sun was strangely reassuring as it shone
throughout the carriage, enveloping me in a comforting wave of warmth. An
immediate sense of reassurance that everything would be ok dawned upon me as
the sunlight soaked my summer-tanned skin and the railway tracks untangled into
singular lines, directing decisive routes for the drivers.
I disembarked the carriage with a sea of
tourists and chic locals who were undoubtedly headed for the nearest coffee
cart before their morning stroll to work. Upon swiping my trusty Opal card at
the barrier, I blended amongst the mixed crowd walking towards the Eddy Street
exit before noticing my mother and sister standing at the station's exit. With
smiles on their faces, they waved eagerly before turning to each other with a
look of pleasant anticipation, then headed my way. We had planned for a ‘Girls’
Day Out’ months ago but our busy schedules had prevented such a time until now.
As we moved toward each other, I foresaw
the feeling of elation we’d experience when we were once again reunited upon my
return from the U.K. The overwhelming excitement would undoubtedly lead to a
steep low the next day as I readjusted back to life in Australia. I would
certainly long for the company of my new friends in England, the cooler
weather, and the English comforts I’d become accustomed to over time; however,
I would feel at ease because my family would be within arms reach once again.
The loving presence of my mother and sister at
Sydney’s Central Station that morning was a reminder that I’d always have the
strong support of my family and closest friends to form the resilience of my
foundation. Regardless of where I travelled to, with whom or for how long, I
would never truly be alone. In that moment of realisation under the sunny archway
at Central Station, I knew this for certain.
That morning journey
on the Airport Line stabilised the anxious thoughts preluding
my imminent international departure. The emergence from the underground tunnel reminded
me that life is not meant to be lived in the dark – in fear of the unknown or spent
in waiting. Life is to be embraced and every opportunity for adventure grasped tightly
with both hands. Life is a labyrinth and it is how we navigate it that
determines our destination and our success.
Sunday 29th
November marked a new day - a new way of thinking and a new chapter in my life, just as
December 27th would mark the beginning of a promising and exciting
new life for me.
By
Belinda Pearce
29th
November 2015.
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