Goodbyes are the hardest

It’s just under 2 weeks until I move to Moscow. I’ve invested in some thermals, sorted my visa and I’ve even got the ‘Phillie is Moving to Russia’ leaving drinks up on Facebook.

Moving to Russia has been my dream for years now, but I’ve been crying for days about leaving the United Kingdom. Isn’t this what I wanted?

Well, this past year has seen so many different changes. I’ve become engaged and then unengaged, I have had 4 different jobs, I have moved house 4 times, I found out that I had some unsavoury things said about me and therefore I completely overhauled who chose to spend my time with. It’s with these new people that I have grown close to: the kindest and funniest and smartest, and it’s these people that I am dreading not seeing every week.

I know that we have Facebook and Instagram and all these other wonderful things, but it’s not the same as drunk nights spent oversharing or gossiping during dead shifts. I’ll miss that there was always someone to talk to, and that everyone I’ve worked with and become great friends with is incredibly interesting and down-to-earth.

I know that I might have ‘only’ been a barmaid and other people my age (ahem, almost 25, what?) have completed or are completing grad schemes or living in London or doing Masters’ degrees, and yeah, it has taken me a bit longer to get my life back together, but I can honestly say that working at the Students’ Union has always been something that I can rely on and that I’m glad that I never left.

However, I know that I want to become a teacher, and we all have to move on to the next thing at some point (plus, my managers will probably not miss me being glued to my phone or offering ‘1* customer service’), so although it’s a horrible goodbye I wish I didn’t have to make, it’s a necessary one.

Besides, I think the plan is that I’m going to be a tour guide for half of them who want to visit me anyway.