Now that I’m gearing up to leave, as well as anticipating/dreading the uncertainty of the future, I’m conscious of the need to reflect and process what was, what is, and what could have been.
When I’m about to leave a place, I start to take a little more notice of it, appreciate it more. A heightened awareness as a consequence of the inevitable mindfulness leaving brings. And I realise I’m grieving. It’s not an ‘I don’t want to go’ sadness. It’s an ‘I’m going’ sadness. The sadness of a goodbye. To the house. To the life I’ve led, and to all the things I’ve done whilst here, but also all the things I’ve missed out on too.
I’ve loved the stability and comfort of living in my ‘run-down little dump’. It’s a great area; cafes, wine-bars and restaurants in my street, 5 minutes to the river, 10 to the beach, and of course, my beloved port. I love the house with its high ceilings and wooden floorboards, and despite its flaws; outdoor toilet, leaking roof and dodgy plumbing, it’s really been a good home to me. However, I do feel regretful about the amounts of rent I’ve paid over the years. I was always a little resentful that despite working full-time I still struggled to pay the bills and bla bla. I know it’s the way of the world, and I made my choice to live alone (a lot of the time) but I do wonder if I might have settled a bit more, if if if…
I think too, I always wanted to enjoy this house with a partner. Like, look, I’ve got my shit together, I’m adulting! I have a job and a house and art on my walls, I travel and snorkel, and surf. I go to fringe festivals and arts festivals. I read books! But I just never made any real effort to meet someone, and now I’m off again, as I tend to do.
I’m pissed off about work. I never got around to leaving there, even though it made me so miserable, and I just kind of let that happen. I’m grateful that it allowed me to stay in the house while I did Shiatsu, Uni and CELTA, but fuck I’m champing to get out of there. I guess that makes me think, if I’d found work I enjoyed, with people who weren’t racist, sexist, homophobes, would I be doing the same thing now?
I feel like I’m in a holding pattern at the moment. I’m waiting to leave, but still need to enjoy life while I’m here. I don’t want to wish my life away, but I wanna be ready to bounce as soon as it’s time. I have a lot to do before I go, and although there’s still a lot of time, I’m a bit panicked about getting it all done. I need to move, so I need to pack, and I need to sell, and I need to cull. I need to figure out where to store the stuff, if any, I’m keeping. Shifting things on a physical level is making me reflect on the ways choices I’ve made in the past, and the circumstances of my life, have both delimited and enabled my current choices.