Written by Sonya Batova
Nothing lasts forever. Everything is always changing, and we should stay on track and be able to adapt.
I grew up in Sofia, Bulgaria, and for a long time, that was simply home. My family
was there, my friends were there, and even the small things felt familiar: the streets I
knew by heart, the language around me, the food, the routines, the feeling that if
something went wrong, I was not really alone. Then life started moving much faster
than I expected. I left Bulgaria to study International Management in Germany, at
Reutlingen University, and later continued my double degree in Dublin at DCU. On
paper, it sounds exciting: three countries, different universities, new people, new
experiences. And it is exciting. But what people do not always see is how much
courage it takes to constantly start again. I still remember what it feels like to arrive
somewhere new with a suitcase and the strange thought: This is my life now.
In Reutlingen, I had to build a routine, understand a new university system,
communicate in another language, and create a social circle where, in the beginning,
I knew almost nobody. Later came Dublin β another move, another country, another
room, another beginning. while all of this was happening, life was changing at home
too. I lost some of the most prominent members of my family, including my parents.
There is no university course that teaches you how to deal with that. No handbook
for how to grieve while living abroad. Sometimes grief is dramatic, but more often, it
is surprisingly ordinary. It is sitting in a lecture while your mind is somewhere else. It
is seeing other students call their parents after an exam and suddenly feeling a pain
you cannot explain. It is having good news and instinctively thinking, I have to tell
them, before remembering that you cannot.
And still, the assignment is due on Friday, and you have to find the strength to finish
it. The rent still must be paid. You still have to go grocery shopping. You still have to
answer, βIβm good, how are you?β when someone asks. For a long time, I thought
strength meant handling everything perfectly. I thought adapting meant not being
scared anymore. Living between Sofia, Reutlingen and Dublin has taught me almost
the opposite. Strength can mean calling your brother or a friend when you feel lost. It
can mean crying in the evening and still going to class the next morning. It can mean
admitting that you miss Bulgaria while creating a home somewhere else.
And slowly, something changes. The German train station you once found confusing
becomes familiar. The streets of Dublin that you once followed only with Google
Maps become streets you walk without thinking. People who were strangers become
the friends you call when something happens. You also change over the years. I
became more independent, not because I suddenly stopped needing people, but
because life repeatedly showed me that I could manage more than I thought. And
that is probably the biggest lesson I have learned.
We spend so much time trying to avoid change. We want the people we love to stay.
We want friendships to stay the same. We want our plans to work exactly as we
imagined. But they will not always. Nothing lasts forever β and strangely, that is not
only something sad. The difficult moments do not last forever either. The first lonely
night in a new country passes. The fear of not belonging becomes smaller. The city
that once felt foreign becomes part of your story. So adapting is not about becoming
someone who never feels lost. It is about trusting that even when you are lost, you
can find your way again. I am still learning that.
From Sofia, to Reutlingen, to Dublin β and wherever life takes me next.