Change is hard at first, messy in the middle and gorgeous at the end – Robin Sharma.
It has been almost a full week since I packed a medium-sized bag, and a few other bags, placed them strategically in my little car and waved goodbye to mum and dad. That was a difficult Monday morning. Probably the most difficult, because no matter how many times I have gone away – university, Australia, various extended holidays – it has felt like there was an end point, or a point where life would resume at home. Travel always has some kind of time-stamp, but a job and moving to a new place makes the probability of returning home a lot less likely. And so it dawns on me that this is it. This is a huge, massive, almost astronomical change in my life because I’ve always gone back home. Always. This time, I’m kinda hoping I don’t because then I’ll be back a square one again and life as I know it will have changed dramatically, and not in the good way.
So that was Monday morning. I drove for four and a half hours from my house to Moreton-in-Marsh. That’s roughly 160 miles. It’s safe to say that I don’t want to be doing that kind of journey every weekend, however it looks like my social life is pretty booked up for the summer in both ends of the country… I’m excited for it; my bank is not. Petrol, I have come to learn, is very expensive – especially when driving to and from work on a forty-five minute journey every morning and evening. That being said, we are hoping, praying, hoping some more that the house we have applied for will come through any day now. I am putting it into the universe to make it happen please. It means I will be closer to work, which means less journeying, less petrol and I get to enjoy a little more sleep of a morning whilst appreciating the evenings for a little longer too. I have found this week – which isn’t hard to believe – that I have been shattered every single night. I am still knackered and it is Sunday afternoon. Even though I get to sit at a desk all day, my brain is tired.
Tuesday was the first day of work. Work is good. Better than good even. I am finally out of retail which was one of 2019’s resolutions. I’m getting paid to do what I love, which is to write. I feel so lucky to have gotten this role; it was the second job I applied for when I was on the hunt, and in all honesty, I thought I would have had to wait longer to get back into work again. I am so glad that is not the case – not only financially, but mentally as well. I don’t think I could have spent another day wondering when I would get an interview, or a call back, or when I’d get regular money in the bank again. I don’t have money growing from trees and I needed this job to take the next step. It helps that I enjoy what I’m doing, that I get to feel accomplished in work, that I get to vary my writing skills and test my creativity. Plus, I work for a great company with lovely people, which always helps in terms of massive change and general day to day life.
And then the homesickness hit. I think it all hit me actually. I was upset on Monday, but I was also excited and in anticipation of this new chapter. And then, Tuesday was the realisation. It is still a little surreal in a way, because I haven’t got all of my things here, and we don’t have our own place yet, but I knew that this change isn’t just a fluke, or a holiday that I was going to enjoy and say goodbye too. This is my new reality, but I’m not calling it home just yet. The north-west is my home and will always be that way. Although, I guess I have had many homes over the years. The country just needs to earn the title a little bit more first.
As for Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, I got into the flow of work, got used to my 6.45am alarm and then hated it all over again because I wanted another hour in bed. I am not used to the roads and how people either drive at the pace of a snail, or think the country roads are a disguise for the motorway. Perhaps the other drivers think I’m just as bad. My car aka The Devil got a new tyre and also needs new break plates which is just fantastic, and something really adult and mundane, but nevertheless, important. I don’t quite fancy breaking down in the middle of my route to work. At least I know that I will get to work on time; I don’t have to rely on public transport any more. However, there is the slight con of getting stuck behind tractors. I guess that’s what I get for moving to the countryside. That, and a really bad spout of hay fever that is ridiculously annoying.
What I do love about the countryside though is that I am surrounded by the most beautiful scenery: fields that go on for days, roads that lead to stunning cottages I dream about living in, like something out of The Holiday or a period from a really long time ago when everything felt fairy tale like and whimsical. It is so quiet, and I love the sound of waking up to absolute silence in the morning. The loudest thing I’ll hear is a bird, or a lone car. There is no beeping, no shouting children, no teenagers running rampant. Just, silence. Nevertheless, I miss home, and I miss living so close to Liverpool, because I am a city girl at heart, but there are things to do here. I just have to drive a little bit further to do them. Plus the countryside has that picturesque magic to it and I’m not sure I’ll ever get tired of looking at any of it.
That is a brief summary of some of the thoughts and feelings which have arisen this week. Believe me, there are plenty more, some of which probably deserve their own blog post. I reckon I can write a lot about some of the specific topics that are rolling around my brain. I might do a weekly update, but somehow I think that might get a little tedious for me and you. I will do random life updates, country vs city, and how I am finding things like making new friends, finding new hobbies, and finding the pub life rather than the club life because let’s face it, nothing can compare to a night out in Liverpool.
If you have any ideas, or any probing questions about adapting to country life, send them my way.
Love, Faye xo