I Bet You Didn’t See This Breakup Coming…

Oh, Lordy. Where do I begin? For starters, I’m moving to Germany. Yes, that definitely seems like a great place to begin.

But in typical Emily fashion, it’s not just a pack-up-and-leave-Portugal situation. No, my friends, it’s much stickier than that. This break up will be messy, with frequent stays by the beach to maintain my residency, doctor’s visits in Lisbon because my health insurance can only be used sixty days after the coverage begins. And let’s be honest, I need to legally reside in one European country before I go ditching it for the next. So in short:

This Breakup Is Messy.

But it’s not you, Portugal. It’s me.

It’s 100% Emily, the human. In fact, the more I’ve thought about this, the more I’ve started to understand this funny thing we do as humans. We doubt ourselves. And in my case, I constantly teeter on the edge of empowered confidence and nagging insecurity. (I assume I’m not the only one.)

You see, when I first landed in Hamburg, Germany two years ago, bright-eyed and eager for my first time working abroad, I was smitten. Walking home to my artsy flat along the historic streets, with a bag full of incredibly-priced groceries, I remember calling my mom and saying, “You know, I’m not sure what it is, but I think I want to live here some day.” And I was lucky enough to return to this bustling German metropolis a few times, for more stints on the stage with AIDA Cruises. But there was always a small pang in my heart when it came time to leave again. Some piece of Emily, the human with a tendency to doubt herself, always remained in the funky, artsy port city of Hamburg.

And I get it. This might sound crazy. I live in Portugal, twenty steps from a scenic, cliff-lined beach, in a town bustling with creative energy and strong coffee. While many lucky folks were born here, move here, or pass through here and are immediately certain that their soul is embedded in the sand, I’ve always felt like Hamburg was my place.

When I first moved to Portugal, for the first time in my life, I was shy. I had left New York City, the place that every single person abroad knows, adores, and wants to go. And boom, I had dropped it like a hot rock and said “tschüssy” faster than a speeding bullet (run with these metaphors, I beg of you). And then I went to… Portugal? “Why?” People would ask. And the honest truth was that I wanted to leave New York, I wanted to live in Europe, and my boyfriend had moved to Portugal. That’s as far as the plan went. Portugal was my window to the life I was dreaming of. Not a door, but a window. A window I hesitantly climbed in, carrying the insecurity of leaving New York and not having a good answer as to “why” I landed in Ericeira, Portugal; home to a few thousand folks and an equal number of surf boards. I felt at home in Germany, but I felt that Portugal was safer. Easier. More attainable.

But let’s interrupt this story to highlight that I was confident enough to leave New York and sell my favorite bike, because I knew I wasn’t coming back. I was confident enough to start feverishly freelancing in the hopes of scoring some work as a writer abroad. I was confident enough to basically move to Portugal with a guy I’d only known for a few months, because, regardless, I knew that Europe was my place.

It was enough.

But life has this funny way of checking you every now and then. Just as soon as I’d scored an awesome job abroad, and my freelance writing work was picking up, I ran into fifteen thousand roadblocks with my visa. The minute the women’s business group I started in Ericeira was picking up speed, I hosted a get together where not a single person attended (completely true). And just as I was getting comfy-cozy with the laid back pace of this town, and getting used to everything beginning fifteen minutes late, I was suddenly alone in a summer destination that was shutting down for winter, and cursing the lack of indoor heat, while I wheeled my electric radiator around the house like a child’s favorite toy.

And the moment a friend of mine mentioned that she was looking to transfer to Berlin, my ears perked up, as visions of Hamburg’s (rather flat) skyline flashed in front of my eyes. Wait. Was it possible to live in a perfectly lovely place and still feel like there’s something missing? And how could I even move to Germany from Portugal? Is there a system in place for that?

I’ve been staring at my keyboard trying to come up with a less gag-worthy way to say this: But you know how they say to “put things out in the universe?” Guess what I did? I made a decision. And I started telling my closest friends that I was looking to move to Germany. Just like that. And then I started applying for jobs in Hamburg. And then, I started putting it out to a few more people. And then I went to Hamburg for a job interview. Incredibly unsure, yet enthusiastic as a Wiggles concert, I was going for it.

And you know what happened?

I was offered a job in Hamburg. And better yet, I was offered an even more meaningful job at my current company, which could be done in Hamburg. And then I found a friend with a flat for rent in Hamburg. So I decided to sell my car in Portugal. And as I sat on the strangely-leaning bench outside the Portuguese office for vehicle unpleasantries, waiting one hour and forty-five minutes for my number to be called, I was sure that I was missing a document to finalize the sale of my car, Pumpkin. That pesky insecurity was shaking the confidence I was starting to develop for this move. But I waltzed up to the counter with my broken Portuguese and the buyer of my car (naturally this man was missing a finger) and presented my carefully organized documents for the attendant’s perusal.  She needed 1 of the 12 pieces of paper I’d printed.

And as I walked out of that tiled office, without a way to get home, but completely smitten with my success among Portuguese bureaucracy, it finally dawned on me.

There will be insecurities around every corner, and plenty of paperwork in languages I won’t understand, everywhere in the world. But as long as I whiz around those corners with the confidence of my 15-year-old Smart Car who never misses a beat, I’ll be fine.

Why on earth would I settle for something that’s “enough” when my heart isn’t getting that tingly feeling of seeing a steeple-laden skyline? So what do I want, and where do I want it?

And to that question, I enthusiastically shouted “HAMBURG!” to the world. And you know what the universe did in return? Without any effort, it sent my best friend to Hamburg for work for three months, landed me in a flat in my favorite neighborhood, and helped me broker a salary I can live on in Germany (I think…). And it gave me a date: March 1st.

It’s funny to have a blog, and to know that people actually read it. I sometimes feel a pressure to make sure I always have everything together, and to be certain I’m choosing the perfect words to permanently save on these pages. But real people read this blog. And real people do this dance with insecurity and confidence. And real people settle for things that are enough, and then go on to do extraordinary things.

And I’m a real person!

And so, to all of the real people reading this, I hope you let the confidence win. Know that we’re all figuring out how to deal with the insecurities, and the unfamiliarity, and, let’s be honest, the absolute terror that comes along with change. But don’t let that hold you back from the big stuff. Because life can be wonderful wherever you are, just as it’s lovely in my Portuguese seaside town. In all honesty, I’ve worked hard to make my life lovely all over the world. The operative word there being hard work. (Ok, two words, sorry.) But y’all, this is LIFE! There will be hard work involved no matter where you are.

I’m completely convinced that’s it’s not “easier” to live in any one place, besides maybe under your bed. Choosing a porthole-sized window isn’t the same as finding a way to bust down the door. And while Portugal is wonderful, I was wrong; living here is not any “easier” than living in Germany. Because living should never be easy. It should be full of hard work, driven by dreams, and resulting in JOY. And if you think this is naïve, that’s absolutely fine with me. I’ll meet you at Taberne Lebre and give you my thoughts as to how optimism is a horse of a different color.

So I guess the point that I’m trying to make here, is that Hamburg could be a total flop. I don’t think it will be, but it could be. But if there is something deep down in the nooks and crannies of your heart, telling you to try something else, and take a break from something that isn’t empowering you or isn’t giving you enough, it’s time to sell those insecurities with your IKEA belongings on Facebook Marketplace and go for it. You’ll stumble. You might crash a few times (hello European taxes). And you’ll definitely be tired.

But the work that you’ll put in will light the fire that fuels your confidence to overpower every tiny shred of insecurity standing in your way. Not for forever. But for long enough to get over the breakup, and enjoy that glorious, unstable feeling that comes with the luxury we know as freedom. And that is way more than enough.

Go get ‘em tigers.

See y’all in Deutschland.