The title of this entry is courtesy of an email I received after telling a friend I had moved. I didn’t really see it coming either, but it’s true…I live in London. Well, at least for the time being. I want it to be a permanent move but that’s not completely up to me. I live here because, all the sudden, it became a possibility. For all my life, it was just a dream. Actually, the dream was to have a sheep farm in Ireland. I guess I overshot a bit and ended up living in a flat in London with not a lamb in sight. Oops!
The circumstances in my life changed quickly and unexpectedly. One day I was living an okay life–raising a teenager, working to pay rent and bills, and suffering through long, hot summers in Las Vegas. The next day I was living alone for the first time in my life with a list of responsibilities that had suddenly diminished. I was flirting with depression but also fighting it like crazy, when the idea popped into my head, “I should see how much it would cost to go to get my Masters degree in London.”
That may oversimplify and skim over the exact circumstances a bit but that’s all I’m willing to share on that portion of my life. I had just completed my undergraduate degree (finally!) and I was already thinking about a Masters (I apparently need to be in school to be content). I was alone and without another human to take care of for the first time in a long time, so I figured I might as well do something seemingly impossible and very selfish.
It happened that quickly in my head. My laptop was already open and it took me very little time to figure out that going to school in London wasn’t all that impossible. It was probably still selfish, but it was do-able. All I had to do was apply, get accepted, find funding, apply for a visa, quit my job, pack up and rid myself of almost all of my possessions, find a place to live in London, and move to a city where I knew no one and had never been. See? Do-able. Easy-peasy.
I did all that. No, it wasn’t easy, far from easy, but I did it. For once, I didn’t give into those nagging feelings of doubt, fear, and not wanting to be wildly selfish. I take that as a sign that it was time for this to happen. The planets aligned, as they say. Things fell into place. Oh, and a good friend decided to take 6 months off from her life and moved to London, as well, so I wasn’t completely alone when I got here.
I moved here in January. It turns out January 2014 was the wettest month in southern Britain since 1910[1]. However, the rain was welcome after living in the desert Southwest for so long. I love this city. It is beyond what I had hoped it would be. It’s noisy and crowded yet quiet and peaceful in unexpected ways and places. It’s not for everyone. It’s a big city with all the pros and cons that come with a city with a population over eight million. But it’s the place I have finally felt “right.” I’ve been searching for home for a long, long time. I think I may have found it.
[1] http://www.metoffice.gov.uk/news/releases/archive/2014/Early-January-Stats
On My Mind 