A week ago I packed my apartment in Ireland, and left the country I'd been living in for almost a year. I'm writing to you from the office room of my parents house. This apartment will be my base for a while. Hopefully, not too long.
It feels strange to pack up your life and move to another country. It should be difficult to leave a place, it should be this huge life event. But it wasn't. It was easy.
Don't get me wrong, packing up an apartment, closing accounts, and dealing with the logitistics of moving countries is a pain. But the mental and emotional leap was much easier.
It struck me how my attitude towards moving countries has changed. It wasn't a shock or a terrible tragedy like it was 20 years ago. Age of course plays a role, but the experience of moving around changes the way you view the world. Getting on that plane was more akin to taking a bus than a 4200+ km journey1.
It gets easier because your sense of time expands. Being away from someone or something for longer periods of time feels like a small break. The process of leaving becomes less permanent. The place becomes a destination; an option for visiting rather then something long lost to me.
I left that part of the world fully expecting that I will be returning there eventually. Maybe not for many years, but eventually and I'm fine with that.
I also rarely get very attached to a place. If leaving and returning is always a possibility, I don't need to hold onto a place. The world becomes smaller and malleable somehow.
The world is not set in stone, you can enjoy and have something without being afraid to lose that experience or that place. You can change and leave without losing the things you love.
That's it for now. I'm leveraging all my systems to try and get back to a sane daily routine, and with that will come a return to the biweekly article schedule.
Have a good one. Until next time.
- That's 2636 miles for those using the wrong measurement system. Just kidding. But seriously SI units FTW. ↩