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| What I'm leaving... |
I find myself in the grip of an extraordinary sensation, one that only the tantalizing promise of anticipation can stir. I can almost taste freedom—the kind that comes from finally reaching a point in life where time and money coexist harmoniously. It feels almost unreal, yet it’s been a dozen years in the making. And I will finally also be free of my past the one where I make the mistake of marrying the wrong person. Hey Ho! Let's go!
It's been ten years since I officially got divorced and twelve years of living solo (well with my daughter) in the family home. Twelve years of relentless effort, careful thrift, and the dull rhythms of routine. I’ve been on autopilot for so long that now, as I glimpse genuine possibilities on the horizon, I’m caught off guard. The feeling is not unlike the giddiness of a teenager, heart racing, when their crush finally locks eyes with them.
But let’s be clear—I haven’t stumbled upon a windfall. No, it’s more that I’m on the cusp of needing less to live comfortably, and that shift opens up a world of possibilities. The idea of no longer having to work full-time or for someone else to sustain my lifestyle is no longer just a distant dream. It’s becoming a tangible reality. See for the past ten years I've had to stay put in a very expensive flat to ensure that the nipper's life wasn't disrupted more than the divorce already had. And I do not regret doing my duty in this way. But boy, it hasn't been cheap or easy.
As a result, it’s been years—decades even—since I’ve felt any real excitement, save for a few fleeting moments. Small victories like landing work when I needed it, surviving another school year as a single working parent, and somehow managing to keep my head above water financially. These are hardly the stuff of exhilaration, though I’m fully aware of how fortunate I am to even have these modest milestones.
Lately, however, my thoughts have turned to the bigger questions: life, mortality, happiness, and, crucially, the role of risk.
Two friends of mine, both of whom have recently made bold life choices, have seen their lives—and their families’ lives—transformed for the better. Their bravery has inspired me to step out of my comfort zone, to abandon fear and embrace the possibility of something new and refreshingly different—something that could permanently enhance my life. And by that, I don’t mean indulging in lavish holidays or splurging on luxuries, but rather, having the time and financial freedom to live a little, to write, learn new skills, perhaps even take up something as delightfully simple as beekeeping.
Take one friend, for example, who quietly uprooted her young family and moved to Cyprus. After hitting a crossroads in her career following the birth of her second child, and with her relationship strained by complacency, she took a leap of faith. Today, she’s settled in a beautiful villa, her weekends spent basking by the pool with her husband and two lovely children. It’s the sort of life that many dream of, and she made it happen.
Another friend has taken the plunge and moved “up north.” She’s now happier than ever, with more disposable income and a newfound contentment that shines through.
It’s all set my mind whirring: perhaps it really is my turn. But this time, I’m determined to get it right. For those of you who’ve endured these ramblings before, you might recall that I once threw caution to the wind and moved to Canada—a decision that ultimately cost me my marriage. But now, without a marriage on the line and with no plans to head back to Canada, this feels more like a calculated risk than a reckless gamble.
It’s my turn once again. The moment has arrived. It’s D-Day.
The stage is set. The flat has been valued, and the photographs are scheduled. Now, all I need is a stroke of luck. I’m hoping for an offer I can’t refuse, and once that happens, the rest is going to be a seizure-inducing blur but hopefully by the time I get around to posting again, it will be from my new life in my new home. Although I think it will be to update you on my pilgrimage to see my elderly relatives in Madrid...before they all pop their clogs. And I don't mind admitting, I ain't looking forward to it.
Equally I could still be here in this expensive flat this time next year, wittering on. Whichever it is, I’ll accept that the universe had a good reason.
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| Where I'm going...no brainer |
