Two nights ago, I had a dark, dark night of the soul.
For the past few weeks, on the inside, I resembled The Scream by Edvard Munch, described as “the hairless man, clutching his head with a pained look of fear or agony plastered across his features” (Coleman). That same fear and agony finally spilled from my inside to my out.
Dear God, what have I done? What kind of idiot gives away their possessions, packs the last few bags, and moves to another country?
If they say it on TikTok, it must be true
“Everyone says it takes four to six months” to get acclimated, my college-age daughter says. She joined expat groups and followed expat TikTok so she can be my social media guide to expat life.
When I was still trying to find a rental in Dublin, a place with a serious housing crisis, she sent screen shots of other people’s cries for help. The fear of homelessness is real in Dublin, even for those with money.
“Students, desperate to secure accommodation on the verge of a new academic year, are particularly vulnerable to the crisis” (Murphy).
For students, the situation is dire, and my daughter thought it would help to know that I’m not alone. “Everyone” is struggling. But the shared pain only made my fears more pointed. There are 200 or more people waiting in line to see available rentals. The campus accommodation office tells us that if an ad has been up for more than a day, it is already gone. I will never be as nimble as an undergrad to be the first in line, so for me, the only way to win was to change the game. I started looking outside Dublin, and then VERY far outside, driving up and down the coast looking for a rental.
It was here, late at night, in a miserable vacation rental, that the dark night consumed me. I had reached a moment of existential crisis. I’ve never been closer to homelessness even in those first years after the divorce, but it’s a real problem here, and I’ve gone through my savings at a rapid pace.
Dangers of a road less traveled
“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by…” (Robert Frost)
Many empty-nesters take up a hobby, redecorate a room, or even take a long vacation, but no, that road was too well-trodden for me. I wanted a bigger adventure with the possibility of greater rewards.
For any who have hiked through a forest or along a mountain trail, you know that the less traveled trail offers more obstacles in the path. It is for the hiker to climb over downed trees, jump small new streams, and forge a path where none exists. It is the joy of unseen vistas against the agony of searching for the cairns—the trail markers—along the way.
Or as my father might have said, the greater the risk the greater the reward.
My father was a risk-taker, a good poker player, and a man who made his own destiny. By the age of nineteen, he was married with children and started five new businesses in a small Iowa town near his family farm. I thought I was my father’s daughter, betting for a better life by selling off my worldly possessions, but that was only the ante in this big gamble I’ve taken.
I am paying the price for this less traveled road, but I am finding the rewards as well. In one holiday let (vacation rental) the reward came at just the right time, I found a moment of peace to regroup. Here, the less traveled road showed me the beauty of Ireland and the compassion of the Irish.
“Two roads diverged in a wood,” Frost wrote, “and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.”
Join me on my journey. I have no idea what I’m doing or where I’ll end up. That’s half the fun. Maybe.
I immediately thought of this song:peter gabriel don t give up lyrics https://g.co/kgs/54yvYV
Here for you, if nothing else, just to listen