New Beginnings - Old Habits Die Hard (1)

Note: From this point on, I'm going to be referring to the place where I live (in the north) with the general term "Sweden" for the sake of simplicity. Please bear in mind that this is a big country and things vary a lot between the north and the south, so a lot of what I post might only apply or make sense in regards to the north. I'd also like to point out that I'll be sharing things I personally experience and the impressions I get from specific situations and people. I don't want to step on anyone's toes or make anyone upset by thinking that I'm generalizing in any way.  

I arrived to my destination late at night on the 24th of January. I had planned to take the first week off to relax and enjoy some free time with my boyfriend and his family. But I couldn't do it...a mere three days in and I let my anxiety roam free - I became restless. Suddenly I had no time to lose and certainly shouldn't throw away those first few days away. The always busy, living-in-the-midst-of-chaos city girl couldn't sit still at home with nothing to do but "relax". No job to go to, no goals, no purpose...I had an itch to do something, I needed to get the engines moving and propel my life forward.

Things weren't to go so easily though. I took the first step towards starting a life here and kickstarted the process of getting assigned a personnummer (personal identity number), which is the base to everything in Sweden. Without it, I couldn't apply for a job, sign up for the free swedish classes they have prepared for immigrants or even...get a gym membership if I wanted to (spoiler alert: I didn't want to at all). But I was extremely eager to attempt the first two options: getting a temporary job to sustain myself and at the same time work hard on my swedish, so I could eventually apply to become a licensed psychologist here. Unfortunately, I hit a wall and my hands were tied - my precious personnummer could take up to eight weeks to arrive (and worry not, more complications were on the way!). It's hard to translate into words what I felt when the kind lady gave me that information. I felt a wave of frustration and hopelessness crawl over me. I had wanted to "start my life" so desperately and it was being thrown back at me, as if mocking my intentions.


And with that knowledge, I was sent into a downward spiral that brought me to the most vulnerable and volatile state of mind. What I'd like to tell you is that I'm a very active and independent person, I always like to keep busy and do a lot of things, especially outdoors. I'm one of those people that starts to lose her mind a little bit if I don't go outside for too long (say, a day or two). Don't ask me to explain it, since I can't figure it out either...I just know that something inside me longs to be outside frequently. I love the movement of people around me, feeling the bustle of a crowd surrounding me. I had lived in a certain environment for 24 years and now I found myself in a completely opposite situation; it was going to be a difficult adaption period for me, there's no doubt about that. So with that in mind, having to stay home every day, not having any specific goals that I could achieve and being so dependent on my boyfriend made me feel stuck - I daresay I didn't feel quite like myself. We  are currently living in a small village, at least twenty minutes away from the city by car (at this point I should add that I don't have a driver's license...of course I don't) and I was having (still am at times) a hard time dealing with a situation where I felt powerless about my own life. I would wake up and start feeling miserable, without really knowing why. I felt smothered by the emptiness that surrounded me every time I stepped outside, just piles and piles of snow, punctuated by miles of trees and then...there was me, feeling so absolutely small and unable to control this feeling of utter loneliness. Somewhat isolated from the world, I felt unable to breathe properly, cornered by forces bigger than me (bureaucracy, go figure). It was like my life was at a stand-still and as much as I'd like to, I couldn't move either way (quite literally in some cases) until the snow started to melt.


The white and mighty north was throwing everything at me to see if I would crumble, so I promptly decided that I wouldn't let that happen (if I could fight something, even if it wasn't for the things I wanted the most, I would surely try my best and fight like hell). But you see, I thought mine was to be a physical battle against the cold and the snow. Living with temperatures around -27ºC was a challenge I knew I was going to have to face eventually, but trying to mentally prepare for it didn't seem to make a difference. Going outside was often painful and before I bought the right type of clothes (they help, a LOT), I found myself wondering if I could endure it. I had never felt such a burning sensation in my life, the way my feet, my face and especially my hands often felt like. It is indescribable how the cold wind finds a way to shoot through you, cutting like a thousand daggers, making your limbs feel heavy and numb. However, after a while I started to become slightly more resilient and even if I wasn't immune to it, I didn't seem to mind it as much. Some days, I was actually fond of it because the air was fresh and it helped to clear my head. Little by little, I started welcoming the cold (to a certain degree that is...I still continue to suffer from it and reckon I always will). What about the snow, you might ask? It was everywhere, mountains of it wherever you looked, covering all living and non-living things in sight. It's surprising to see how much it can swallow up: cars, tractors, the occasional hut... The immenseness of it seemed to silence me, it made me realize how small and weak I actually am. Mother nature was telling me my place in the chain of command and let me tell you, I wasn't up there. Shoveling was a fun activity at first, but it quickly became a heavy task. I'm not physically strong, so carrying endless kilos of snow was very demanding for me. When I woke up the next day, it felt like I had been hit by a bus because I hurt all over (what I imagine it would feel like anyway, since I've been fortunate enough not to have had that unpleasant experience). Not only that, but it seemed seriously endless while you were doing it. You take away a pile of snow and soon enough, there's another one to replace it. Never ending, always heavy, ice-cold white snow. The plus side (irony alert) is that if you want to live in a place like the north of Sweden, you're going to have to shovel all the time. It won't be optional, the battleground will be freezing, unsteady, slippery and most times than not, you will feel like you're losing.

Surprisingly, what I soon started to realize was that I couldn't have been more wrong. My greatest struggle would be with my thoughts. 



[To be continued...]

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