Moving Abroad: A Lesson in Messing Shit Up & Saying No to People Pleasing

My life pre-expat is sometimes a bit of a blank to me, and that's because it was never really mine. 

I was obsessed with being a good girl--something engrained in me from a heavy dose of Catholic guilt and a constant need for approval from my parents. I was ever the dutiful daughter, and keeping my parents proud of me was a high priority. 

"Your daughter is just lovely! How did your ever get her to be so good? And she's pretty! What's your secret?" they'd ask my parents. The real question is something along the lines of, "how did you get your daughter to keep her ears open, mouth shut, and to follow directions without any resistance or real thoughts of her own, all while wearing the cutest little dress?" My parents, of course, are loving and upstanding people who did their best raising me in the 80s and 90s, and I thank them for a comfortable, creative life that was better than the childhood they were given. I truly love those two imperfect beings! 

Still, the praise from my parents and other people on just how good I was became what fueled me. I found myself at the age of 27, still being a very good little girl. Of course, I had limited moments of rebellion here and there, like joining a sorority and being introduced to alcohol (gasp)! Or learning how to indulge in some wanderlusty thoughts, even though that really wasn't a part of the path to goodness! The path, after all, is to be very child-like, up until you're passed off to marry, in which you need to switch to producing children instead.  Nowhere in that equation should a good girl move across the world in her late twenties! That would be selfish. 

Letting myself indulge, even if for a minute, felt deliciously amazing, but promptly shameful. I always returned to the familiar zone of being good. Turns out, when you keep giving up all of yourself to please other people, you become a shell of a person without any real passion or life inside of you. Where was the fire in my belly?? Where was that twentysomething gumption and zeal for life? In its place was emptiness. All I had was the approval of others, an office job I hated, and a day-to-day existence that consisted of only that: people pleasing and existing.  

When I finally made the decision to move abroad (because goddammit I was going to feel something for once in my life), I knew I was beginning to find my theme. I wasn't sure if it was something along the lines of bravery, adventure, or exploration. Ultimately, I had an epiphany while listening to a Kate Nash song, whom I was introduced to within my first month of living in the UK. A few of the lyrics went like: 

Missed the train, thanks a lot, mate
I didn't wanna be late today, 'cause I'm always late
And I really hate always bein' late
And now the other train is delayed, great

Carrier bags and a navy taxi, man said
"Take your time, love 'cause you don't have to rush
'Cause it's your life and it's no one else's, sweetheart
Don't let someone put you in a box"

I had been hit by a lightening bolt of divine inspiration! My theme was pretty simple: learning how to live my own damn life! I had been neatly folded and put in a box for almost 3 decades. I started to ask myself "What does Ashley truly want? Not my parents, not society, but myself?! What the HELL do I want?" 

I knew it was finally time to mess some shit up! That was the year I tapped into my inner gypsy and caught 4am buses to the airport in order to snag the cheapest flights. From my home base in London, I flew to 8 different countries. This year of travel and living abroad taught me a myriad of things: that, yes, pasta is even better in Italy, and sleeping outside in Switzerland in the dead of winter was not glamorous, and losing your wallet in Ireland on St. Patrick's day was rather unnerving, and seeing snow for the first time in your life in Norway was something quite magical. I said a resounding yes to invitations, and crashing strangers' parties, and staying up until 5 am until I staggered home on east London streets, and exploring strange and beautiful art museums, and dancing as much as physically possible at Robyn concerts or in sweaty little clubs with names like Red Church. 

Oh, the living and the beauty and the discomfort and the the awakening that took place! I was gaining that gumption that was missing before. I built a raging wildfire in my belly where there was once emptiness. I wouldn't have traded one moment of it for a comfortable, 'good' life. 

I still have to fight against the good girl syndrome to this very day. I still feel the need to present myself as neatly folded and pretty and perfect. Fuck thaaaaaaat. 

Life is about getting as messy and as vulnerable as possible. It's about saying yes to the very scary things. It's about making that leap abroad because you KNOW it's tugging at the fabrics of your soul. It's about ditching the need to people please, because that never served you, love. So come on now, take a look at your life! Where are you too neatly folded? Step out of that box, and fuck some shit up. It will be devastating and glorious at the same time. 

You'll absolutely love it here.