The Universe and Me

Moving to Ireland has fundamentally challenged the way I think about my spirituality. Although I was raised Catholic and went to a Catholic college, I have had trouble acknowledging any influence on my life by some higher power. But its become hard to deny that along every step of the way, I’ve felt guided to move to Ireland. A voice kept popping up in my head. “Keep fighting,” it said.

This month last year I lost my job. I endured a month of unemployment. What was already by design a difficult time became almost unbearable as I watched the majority of my “move to Ireland” savings deplete while I paid my relatively large college loan payment, my rent and my utility bills. I was crushed and started seriously doubting this pipe dream of mine would actually happen. Around the same time I was filing my taxes for the first time as an independent — my parents had been claiming me as a dependent until I graduated. By some fantastic timing, the week I realized the state of my finances wouldn’t allow me to move to Ireland was the same week I saw that my first big tax return would bring my savings back its original level (and then some). “You can still do this,” The Universe seemed to say to me.

Still I had to wait for my Irish citizenship to arrive, so I applied for jobs at a local staffing agency. I was expecting the sort of soul-crushing data-entry type job to tide me over until I could move abroad. Never in my wildest dreams would I have envisioned an opportunity to work for the state’s largest media outlet. While I was working at the newspaper I had the opportunity to work with real life journalists (they’re an endangered species nowadays, you know). I got paid to use Facebook and Twitter on behalf of my employer. They even let me produce some videos. I know it’s a cliché to say this, but it really was a dream come true. It was a little too good, though. I started to imagine myself there long term, moving from contractor to full-timer. When an employee left the company for another job, I started to fantasize about filling the newly vacant position. Thoughts of Ireland started to fade out. Then, like a rude awakening, the company announced layoffs. The open position would not be filled. I wouldn’t be anything more than a contractor for the foreseeable future. “Move to Ireland,” The Universe seemed to be saying to me. “Not just someday, right now. Need some incentive? Here’s a free plane ticket.” Of course, that last part wasn’t The Universe, but my friend Angela, who gave me a ticket voucher that expired in two weeks. I turned in my notice and moved.

Upon arriving, I had my doubts. Here’s something I haven’t confessed anyone yet, but on my first night here I laid awake in bed, jet-lagged and emotional, thinking “What the hell have I done?” I was paralyzed by fear. That fear brought me awfully close to the precipice of failure. In fact, I was starting to look at plane tickets back home when my parents offered to pay my December loan payments as my Christmas gift. “One last push,” The Universe seemed to be saying to me. It was right: I started my next round of résumé drops the next day and got a job right away.

Fast forward to the last week. Two and a half months in retail was not exactly what I envisioned when I moved here, much less when I got my college degree. It’s okay though, because my new best friend The Universe had a plan for me. By an equally fantastic coincidence, I got an “in” at a dream job in Dublin. Before I knew it, I was sitting in the Dublin office of a major multinational tech company interviewing for a job. I took a bus out to Dublin a night early so I would be well rested. Walking around the city, I realized that this was where The Universe was sending me next. Dublin is in the midst of recruiting some major corporations to set up their EU headquarters in Ireland, and they’ve succeeded. Google, Facebook, eBay/PayPal, Citi and a plethora of other companies have set up offices in this really neat tech sector of Dublin. It’s sort of like the silicon valley of Europe. The Universe was sending me to here, and I was pretty happy about it. It didn’t just feel like a good decision, it felt like it was what I was meant to do. But then a funny thing happened. I didn’t get the job.

I fumbled in the interview. It wasn’t a disaster, just not the stellar interview I expected of myself. Now I have these conflicting issues pulling at me. On one hand, I’ve made it to Galway and I’m employed in a secure job. No easy feat, considering this country is in the midst of its worst economic recession in a generation. But I can’t deny that the same voice that told me to move to Ireland is telling me to go to Dublin. And who am I to question The Universe? Now I’ve just got to figure out a new way to get there.