this is me trying

Chapter 1 - Keeping Control

My bags were packed. My apartment became empty. And my life was moving. My life was moving from Trondheim to Manchester. Norway to England. Comfort to discomfort.

I was soon on the plane. I had to fly from Trondheim to Oslo, and then Oslo to Manchester. As I flew over my home country, I once again questioned why I was even doing this to begin with. Why was I leaving my beautiful country? Why was I leaving the fjords, and mountains, and rivers?

But then I was pulled back into reality. I was doing this. There was no going back now. I needed this. For my own sanity. I was doing this for experience, and exploration, and healing. Maybe this would 'heal' me. Maybe this would finally 'heal' me, if that was even possible.

I didn't know anyone in the team. There were no other Norwegians, nor anyone I had ever played with previously. It really was a new, fresh start. It was something I had never experienced before. I'm not sure whether that made me more nervous or more ready.

"What if... what if... I-" I said over the phone, as I got off the plane in Oslo, before my connecting flight.

"Ev, breathe..." Ingrid said, trying to calm me down. I could tell that she was in the car, probably driving somewhere in her new home of Barcelona. She had signed with Barcelona from Wolfsburg in the off season. She too was wanting to try something new, but she was handling it a bit better than I was.

"I can't do this," I then said, turning around to head away from my airport gate.

"Ev, please take a deep breath. You can do this. Don't let yourself tell you otherwise." I knew she was right. Ingrid normally was. She has a calmness to her that radiates. Whenever I feel at my worst, she can make me feel like my best once more. She has that charm, and spark, and magic to her. She is my magic.

I ended up on the plane. Somehow. And once I was on, I couldn't get off. That was the first step. That was the first step that Ingrid gave me to do.

"Step one," Ingrid said, an hour earlier, "is you get to your plane and get on it. That's all you have to do right now. Break this experience down, okay? Break it down into small, manageable compartments. Don't overwhelm yourself with things you can't control right now. Control the controllable, Ev."

"Control the controllable," I repeated.

"Yes, control the controllable."

I liked that saying. I liked what it meant, and how it related to me, at that moment. Break it down. Take it step by step. And control what you can, not what you can't.

What I could control was getting on that plane, and after 2 hours in the metal tube in the sky, I could start thinking about the next step then.

I fell asleep on the plane, so the trip was quicker than I had thought it could be, and when I arrived, I was greeted at the airport with a driver, who would take me straight to the offices to sign my contract. There was no fussing about it. I was in Manchester, and I was going to sign.

When I arrived at The Etihad, I had a few minutes by myself, next to the pitch. I looked around, seeing the seas of chairs that each week were filled by mad, english fans, supporting their club. Supporting the boys in blue. Although I knew we didn't play here often, one day I knew I would. I would step onto that pitch. I would experience that feeling. At first, it terrified me. I couldn't imagine being so vulnerable in front of so many, but as I thought about in the idea, I came to relish it. Being able to share my passion in front of everyone was worth more than my fears that came alongside it.

"Eva," a man said to me, catching my attention. "They're ready for you." I smiled softly, and walked back inside.

I signed my contract. Two years. I would be here for two years. There was no doubt about it. And then my number.