This is not an inspiring post

First written on September 11th 

All my life since I was only a kid I dream with doing erasmus, I can remember little me saying that even if I wanted to always live on my hometown I wanted to live for a while in Oslo - yes, young me was obsessed with Norway and I don't even know why. 

As I grow up my wishes and dreams changed, I got obsessed with a swedish singer and then with Sweden, changing my love from Oslo to Stockholm, I changed my dream of being a dolphin trainer to be a sports journalist and eventually understood that I would't want to forever live in Porto (my hometown).

In 2012, I was a 14 year old that for the first time visited Barcelona, and the moment I landed in that city I fell in love and felt at home, my heart knew I belonged there, so I made this plan that as soon as possible I would move to Barcelona, start a new life, leave my shitty classmates behind and follow my dream.

In 2014 I started having panic attacks, and my life began to be controlled by anxiety, I passed some really hard times, resuming (since I plan on one day write a post only dedicated to my mental health issues) I was desperate, scared of everything, couldn't leave my mom's side, went into such a dark phase that asked my parents to go to a psychologist (and I always hated those), so I went there and it only got worse, I wanted medication but the psychologist and the psychiatrist didn't want to give me it, they instead decided to go on a visit down memory lane to justify my anxiety, and decided to questionate stupid things about my life like "why don't you get a boyfriend?" ahahah well, from panic attacks and anxiety I started to feel depressed too since every session only made me feel worst about myself. I was miserable in those times, I didn't spent anytime with my friends and was living in a spiral of suffering. One day there was a show on tv about erasmus and I remember crying alone watching that because in that moment all I could think about was how I wouldn't be able to live my dream, if I couldn't stay home alone without having a panic attack how would I move to a new city alone?

Time passed and I went to a new psychiatrist, I got medication, and step by step with the help of my parents and closest friends I started to rebuild my life, I was able to be home alone, I went to school by myself with no problem, I was able to use public transportation alone, I went out with my friends, started university without knowing anyone there, travelled with my friends, and started dreaming again, I was once again confident, always shaken by the trauma that my anxiety was and with the help of medication but I was living.

So on my second year of uni for me was obvious that I would prepare to do erasmus on the next year, I wanted to go to Copenhagen for a whole year but the options weren't many so I ended up choosing Valencia, there was only one place and I decided that it would be mine, I wanted an entire year of erasmus, alone in Valencia. 

The day after my birthday we got the collocations and I got my place in Valencia, from that time (March) until maybe June I was super excited about my erasmus year, I was confident and happy but as the time was getting closer to September I started to feel insecurities, my parents and friends assured me they would always be there and I thought it would be just the normal first days crying and missing home and then everything would be fine. It was August in no time and I had millions of worries in my mind but I booked tickets to go home for a week in October and one of my best friends would visit me in November. So I went all the way from Portugal with my parents and lots of bags with my "essentials" to Valencia. 

Once I was here the room that I rented was nothing like I expected and then the nightmare started with four days of nonstop room hunting. While this time I passed for several stages, first I said this was to make me feel that I really want this, then I got so exhausted I ended crying and saying I was shit, I was useless and feeling unsure about everything in my life and then I accepted the option I had denied for so long, come back home. It no longer mattered what other people thought, I just wanted my home, my sofa, my cats and my peace. Then people started saying that I couldn't give up and there I was with yet another emotional breakdown. 

On my last day in Valencia, before my parents have to go back home and so have I if that's my decision, I found the perfect flat, a perfect room that would look amazing with all the decorations I have dreamed with on my erasmus room and with two flatmates that (guess what?) went to my new  university. In that moment I could no longer justify my actions and decisions with the unfortunate event of the first day.

There I was with the room contract on my hand, that hand that couldn't stop shaking and my heart beating super fast, all the anxiety consuming me again.

My parents tried them best to make me feel comfortable with any decision I would take, stay or go, and that I will never be able to thank them enough, some friends I ended up talking to (even if I really wanted to avoid having to talk with those I knew I was disappointing) showed me how much they supported me in any decision too. This was my decision, and mine only, and in that moment I knew the right decision would be to come back home, because no adventure and definitely no pride or fear of shame or failure are more important than my mental health.

Sooner that day, before I talked with this lady on the international relationships department that tried to make me feel really bad about giving up by saying that my excuses weren't valid, that the first month would always be hard and that I couldn't throw away my chance in erasmus I had found this on internet that made me feel relaxed again "When the idea of giving up flood you with relief: Is the very first feeling you have when you contemplate quitting your job, leaving your relationship, or giving up on a dream a profound sense of relief? Take that response seriously. If, after stripping away all of the worry and anxiety that comes with any major life change, all that you feel is an enormous weight lifting off your shoulders, there’s your answer. Be a quitter and wear the name proudly. Sometimes it’s the best life decision you can make."

So thinking on all the pros and cons, to this time nothing was able to change my idea to go back home. For me is time to go, accept my decision, (the one they all say I'll regret for the rest of my life) finish stuff I have to back home, preparing my self for a possible second semester on erasmus and grow up. I know pretty much everyone will criticize me and I know at times I will regret my decision but right now my heart can only find peace in coming back home. I could say anxiety won this battle but not the war but the truth is that I don't know. So here I go in what I consider growing up too, I might be a quitter in your eyes but today I made one of the most difficult decisions I ever had in my life, giving up of a dream, accepting that I am not ready for this adventure and moving on.

Honestly, Joana