That’s apparently a trait I possess. During that first month I spent in Stockholm, it punctuated almost every conversation I had. Everyone thought I was “so brave”, “so fearless” to have travelled those 2,000 miles on my own! After all, I’d never seen J or his family on anything but a computer screen – how could I possibly be so courageous?
In all honesty, I’d never been so afraid.
And as I count down the remaining 60 days until my next visit, that fear continues to wage a battle with my excitement.
Today, J’s family are celebrating Easter – something that I’m unaccustomed to, since in my home the day tends to pass without comment. As I sit here on Skype listening in on their unintelligible conversation and the chorus of “glad påsk!” I can’t help but feel like a complete outsider. How do I even begin to find a place amongst their joviality? I try to imagine myself sat at the table, laughing along with jokes I still can’t understand and it makes my stomach turn – it seems that I’m capable of faux bravery only; on the inside I’m just as anxious as I was almost a whole year ago.
At what point do I begin to feel comfortable? I wonder if I pretend to be brave for long enough, it might just become reality.