Wind of change
Since I came back home after my MA year in London, I never made mystery that I only wanted to do one thing: going back to the UK as soon as possible. I was happy there, I was doing what I love doing and feeling the way everyone should be able to feel at least once in his/her life. I was being me at the utmost and going back to Italy was like throwing away all my dreams, all my aspirations.
And it has been, under many respects.
I don’t want to go into details here, but just for the sake of clarity I’m not exactly living the life I wanted to live right now. It’s not a terrible life of course, I know I have to be grateful for many many things [but especially people] that I have, and I am. Sincerely. I can look and see dozen of things that make my life good. Still, it’s not what I truly want for myself.
I can’t lie to myself. I cannot bring me to say I’m satisfied when I’m not. I can say that things are not that bad, but I can’t content myself with what I see if this is not what I was dreaming of. This is something I’ve never been able to change, and honestly I wonder if I really should.
Ok, why on earth am I babbling about this stuff?
I’m moving back to the Uk. My significant other has been admitted to the foundation programme to pursue further medical training there and we’re going to live somewhere in Scotland starting this summer.
And I’m thrilled to say the least.
After more than two years spent watching other people moving on with their lives while it felt like I was always stuck in the same place over and over again, finally I’m the one who’s moving with her life. Finally, I can have a section in my Filofax with the tab ‘move’. I can have the grown-up life everyone of my age deserve.
New country, new home, hopefully new job and also a new life in common with my significant other.
Oh, I almost forgot the cat.