Share a story about the furthest you’ve ever traveled from home.
I am not sure how to answer this question. My problem is that I ended up living in four different countries , either pursuing a bursary for studies or moving for a job. Never for a man, which with age and maturity I recognize would be much easier. No, I achieved everything for myself without any help, and I wonder whether my sense of adventure or rather absence of fear to try something new, comes from the fact that I am bipolar.
You wouldn’t guess unless I tell you, but my eccentricity associated with this disorder brought me far! Far away from my first home in Moscow.
My first country of residence abroad was Belgium. I did my studies there in French to get a bachelor degree in interpreting and translation. I also did a master degree and worked for a year as an interpreter for the Committee for refugees and stateless persons, but then won a bursary to do a sort of MBA in Amsterdam (it was called ‘executive master degree) and moved to Amsterdam, where I stayed for seven years, working as a financial analyst of banks and portfolio manager without any diplomas or knowledge of finances. The guy who hired me for the role liked my spirit and that I read lots of books. He wasn’t disappointed: I became one of the best and corrected a portfolio of equities from seven percent underperformance to five percent over performance in five months. While I was figuring out what to do with the portfolio I also fell in love with a gorgeous French man, who was in Amsterdam only for two months, and once he left, I ended up having my first psychosis. Unlike me, my portfolio of equities was doing great!
I recovered and won a bursary to do PhD studies in geography of finances at the University of Amsterdam but didn’t stay because I had terrible nostalgia for Brussels and hearing French language around me, and moved back to Brussels to work as a headhunter in a recruitment company.
Sign of eccentricity? You bet!
I realised, however, pretty quickly that I wasn’t made for office life and sensing that another psychosis was coming, I went to England where my mum and my late stepdad lived at that time, checked myself into a psychiatric hospital and after a short rest, applied for another PhD bursary in Sheffield, won it and stayed in Sheffield for eleven years, completing my PhD and working for several universities, teaching media studies.
I could have stayed in Sheffield but I had problems to secure a permanent contract and as a single mum, my priority was to have stability and security and I moved back to The Netherlands with my son and my cat, and we have been living here for the last four years.
And so, I traveled a lot. It’s the definition of ‘home’ that I struggle with the most. My problem (besides my bipolar disorder) is that I fell in love with all places where I lived. My Brussels where people are friendly and know how to have fun, my Amsterdam that is a truly magical city, my beloved Sheffield with amazing humor of English people and its incredible Christmas celebrations. And my Moscow where I received excellent education at school and have family and my best friend.
I also like Leeuwarden where I currently live. People here are honest and have high moral principles. It suits me. But is it home? Is it my final destination? Who knows!
For now I just enjoy being here and thank God for making my life, albeit extremely difficult, also very interesting!
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