It's a pity party!

Day twenty-nine:

I’m bit low today. There’s a dog in the villa next door that chose to spend the night barking, which caused all the neighbourhood dogs to join in. So I’ve had very little sleep and that no doubt is contributing to my mood.

I was lying in bed just now thinking about where my life is going, as once again I have to make changes. Necessary changes, but nonetheless change again. You all know how much I hate change.

I counted up the number of houses I have lived in over my life, and it’s seventeen. Seventeen homes for someone who has always just wanted to find a place to fit in. Of those seventeen homes the last four I thought were going to be that mystical forever home, but they weren’t.

I see people everywhere, happy and settled in their homes. I wonder why I can’t do that, why this simplest of things seems to be the hardest for me. Being analytical, and even though a lot of my life changes were not of my choice, the common factor is me. Being analytical that must mean that the problem is me.

So I have been lying awake wondering what it is about me that makes it seemingly impossible to have that anchor, that place that will always be home. The most recent change that is about to happen is supposed to be temporary, a break in the timeline before I return to this life I have been carving out. I hope that is so, I am starting to put down roots and I am feeling too jaded, too tired, too empty to start again, again.

I know that life is change, I know that nothing is forever. And yet I see people who seem to have forever. I know that everyone has a story and nothing is as it appears to be on the outside. But still…I weary of this. I have a phoenix tattooed onto my back, as a reminder that I have started my life over more than once and I can do it again. But this time, I’m feeling that I can’t.

I know that there is a lot about this new development that will be positive. I can use some of this time to further my writing career, I can make use of opportunities that I won’t get here. So it will on the whole be a good change that will take me further along the path of successful independent author. That will make my life here easier and so this change is a positive change. But I wish that it was more certain, that I knew exactly how long it would be, where I will be for this break, how I will manage everything, that my cats will be ok while I am away, on and on my thoughts circle.

Why is humankind so intent on finding a place to call home? I know I’m generalizing, there are many people who relish a nomadic lifestyle and would feel trapped being in the same place for too long. But in the main people seem driven to find a home, somewhere they feel comfortable and safe. Is it a herd mentality, safety in numbers? Is it an understanding on the most basic level that we are surrounded by chaos on a universal scale, and so we try to create a little bit of stability within that chaos? I don’t know. I love to travel, I love to see different lifestyles and cultures. I love to experience different things. But I wish that I had that anchor, that invisible line that attaches me to something permanent, a home.