I am great at starting things. Finishing them… not so much. I’ve started over and afresh so many times, but at the end of the day, week, month or even a year, I am back to my old habits, back to my old self.
When I was 15, I moved out of home in Estonian small town to go to school in a different, a slightly bigger town. At 18, I moved to Tartu to go to university but after four years of staying put there, I needed to go somewhere new again and ended up doing an exchange programme in Spain.
I returned to Estonia and before I could finish university, I moved back to my home town to teach English. After a year of failing to tame teenagers, I got a job in an office in Tallinn – I moved to a city (city in the grand scheme of Estonia).
With all the opportunities that Tallinn could offer me, I soon found the initial excitement of big city life fading away and I realised that living in a crowded and noisy place didn’t really suit me and kept bringing me down. I started to look for something else, something that would be more real.
After conquering many fears, letting many tears stream and fighting copious amounts of (self-)doubt, I made the decision to start again (once more) outside Estonia. In September 2015 I moved to the beautiful county of Cumbria in Northern England, where I currently reside just at the edge of the Lake District. Living in quiet countryside definitely fits me better than city life, but it isn’t without it’s own problems.
People I’ve talked to have told me how brave I must be to move to a different town/city/country just on my own and starting from a blank page. I see no bravery in that. The truth is, this is an easy way out for me. Instead of facing my problems and dealing with my demons, I run away hoping that they don’t catch up. However, they always do.
I am currently feeling the urge to move on again, to start all over somewhere new. My toes are tingling and my eyes are searching for the exit sign, but my heart resists. All my previous changes of location were somewhat random and not really thought through. However, I chose to move to Cumbria for a reason: this was a place where years ago my heart decided to find peace and convince me that this is home. (I am currently writing the saga of how that happened exactly, to be published some later date.)
This is anxiety I feel at the moment about moving on hasn’t got anything to do with my job satisfaction or where I live, but everything to do with the fact that the demons I was escaping from have caught up with me. I have realised that no matter how far I go, I can never run away from myself.
So this time, instead of making rash decisions and packing my bags, I am starting this: a new project, a new virtual home. Maybe this will distract me from the desperate need to move and help me focus on actually finishing something that I’ve started.