So the plan is to move back to London at the end of July. It’s a plan that’s been percolating since the end of last year, when I realised that as much as I wanted to try a few months in San Francisco (this dream remains on the back burner) I needed to start closer to home, and for me that meant London. Dirty grimy noisy beautiful London.
This is the final part of the healing cycle, and hoo boy, do I know it. While I feel confident this is exactly the right move for me to make, there is some fear anticipation floating up from inside my heart. I’ve been having dreams about you know who that leave me upside down in the morning, proving that while i may be calm during the day, there is definitely some stuff happening behind the scenes.
I left London due to the worst reason possible – the loss of a loved one. I’ve chronicled my loss over and over on this blog, and now here i am, five years and three months later, finally ready to go back to the city I love. There was a point back in 2007 when i thought i was ready, but I wasn’t. Then in 2008 I came here to Bath, and kick-started a whirlwind of work and path-finding that i hadn’t expected and am so grateful for words just don’t do it justice. I found ME, and I picked up a thread that is now leading me into the future. The move to Bath was a massive leap of faith, but something inside me knew it was the right thing to do, even though I knew no one here and had never moved to a city on my own before. And I have the same feeling now about my move back to London.
It feels right.
I have no idea what will unfold once I get there (though the rest of this year is scheduled down to the last hour, work-wise) but my gut tells me it will be okay. And that is all i have, really – my intuition. And a big ole handful of faith.