There are many emotions I feel about uprooting my life and moving to Mexico. One of those is fear.
I fear violence.
It is not something I want to fear—I feel foolish for letting it get to me. Statistically, where I am moving is safer than where I am now. Yet where I am is what I know, and I have lived here safely for nearly 25 years. The whispers and the shouts about violence across the border make the blood rush through my veins as paranoia grips my heart—like I felt when I was a child and feared the basement. Both fears so illogical and only escapable through time and experience.
I fear problems with my in-laws.
Not everyone in my husband’s family is good. His father—thought not in my husband’s life—has done unspeakably evil things in his life. Rather than leaving him to rot in the misery he has built for himself, my husband’s sister has been trying to bring him back around the family, preaching forgiveness. At times I feel paralyzed at the thought of his being anywhere near me—a blend of fear and rage.
The youngest sister of my husband and her boyfriend frequently steal from Suegra, despite the boyfriend having much more money than they do. He has forced them to take out loans at the bank for him and has assaulted Suegra. I do not trust him to not see me as something else he can steal to get rich. He is filth.
I fear illness.
I have yet to be sick while in Mexico, despite eating street food every night and not caring one bit about the gloveless hands of my cooks. Illness, however, is inevitable in one’s life. I have this vision of being laid up in a hospital bed, unable to contact my husband, and walled off from my doctors by language.
I fear becoming homesick.
Another inevitable part of my life. In the United States, I have felt “homesick” for Mexico ever since my last trip. I have only spent a total of 6 weeks in the country, but I fell in love. Plus, my love, my husband, is there. If I can feel this way for a place that has barely been a part of me, what will I feel for my life-long home?
I fear being a failure as a teacher.
My cooperating teacher, my principal, and my supervisor had little to no criticism during my student teaching; still, I fear being an utter failure when I step out on my own. At my student teaching site, our lessons were mostly planned for us, so all I needed to do was modify and give it my own twist. Now I will be planning it all on my own, which is intimidating.
All this fear is simply one of the many emotions coursing through me at the moment.
I think I might explode.