What I’m up to
In less than 24 hours, my exchange semester in Germany will come to an end. People like to say time flies. But they also say if you do more novel things, that same space of time feels longer because you’ve thrown in bookmarks and categorized it. I’m not fully convinced. Still feels like the time has flown.
What will I miss? I’ll start off with the sense of liberty one has when you’re living, not in a island city-state, but in a continent that can be traveled on. Germany is home to the autobahn and its speed limit free sections. However, these few months here, I’ve only sat in a car once (a few hours ago), yet I don’t feel restricted. With their trains I can spend my day at a different city and be back home for dinner.1There’s a lot of domestic frustration about late or cancelled trains, and I’ve experienced them too, but it’s still nice that they exist in the first place. Onboard, I’ll get to look out the window and if the weather cooperates, I’ll gaze at green pastures and cross wide open spaces. Paris is a few hours to my west. Amsterdam to the north. And Berlin, east.
Sure I can revisit Germany, but it’s less likely I’ll visit where I’ve actually lived in, here in Mainz. And it’s even less likely I’ll get to stay for an extended period of time like I have here. To go to the grocery store on a weekly — or more accurately, a daily basis. Making use of my German knowledge to say “hallo” to those in the lift or whipping out the highfalutin “mit karte bitte” (with card please) at the cashier after she spits out a string of German words, which I take to mean “card or cash?”.
Or experiencing the change of the seasons. After wallowing in the long days of September, the short days of December aren’t as bad. The seasons patiently changed. In September, the lush green leaves of the sturdy trees obstructed the view of the quiet one-lane road. This night, through the trees, I see cars parked by the dimly lit roadside. I won’t get to look out this apartment window again.
A quote:
Real elegance is everywhere, especially in the things that don’t show.
Christian Dior
An excerpt:
In contrast with what I was like in my teenage years, I was highly decisive as a little kid—stubborn with a clear sense of self. I liked to do it my way, on my own. But at some point along the way—probably when I developed the natural self-consciousness that comes with early adulthood—I developed this intense, chronic sense of indecision. I would hesitate, decide, retract, re-decide, ask everyone else what to do, seek guidance incessantly. And people would gladly advise me because I was young, curious, and “full of potential.” Everyone had an opinion about what I should do, because everyone always has an opinion about you, especially if they care about you! This doesn’t mean that you should necessarily adopt their opinions as your own.
I now see this was a systemic lack of self-trust. I didn’t know what to do, so I looked outside of myself instead of going inwards, which perpetuated my need to seek external approval for even the simplest decisions. Self-trust is a muscle. If you never use it, you won’t be able to make even the tiniest decision alone, let alone big ones. I used to ask people what to order at a restaurant, what to say in my email, what to buy. I’d outsource any choice I could, because decisions felt exhausting (just as lifting anything when you have no muscle to do so would!). I didn’t yet understand that chronically outsourcing decisions was making me weak. Eventually, I realized that my indecisiveness represented a deeper issue: I couldn’t hear my intuition, and when I did hear it, I didn’t trust it. My indecisiveness was a result of my poor relationship with my inner-knowing, or my “gut feelings”, which was a result of consistently prioritizing what others thought over what I thought.
Isabel in on self trust
And a song:
Other
Books: Goodreads. Articles: Readwise.
Movies: Letterboxd. Music: Spotify.
Last updated:
January 7, 2025
This page is inspired by Derek Sivers.
Footnotes
- 1There’s a lot of domestic frustration about late or cancelled trains, and I’ve experienced them too, but it’s still nice that they exist in the first place.