Deciding to leave: part dos

In my first post, I talked about my *cough cough* perfect Millennial life in London and the steps I took to get me into a resemblance of a grown up lifestyle. Now I’m going to talk about how everything went a bit mental.

People will look back on 2016 as the year that the world really, really messed up. Britain chose to depart from the EU, the Americans put a tiny-handed ginger Hitler in the White House and to make matters worse, we lost a bunch of beloved celebrities (whatever year it is that you’re reading this, there’s still a good chance that I haven’t gotten over the death of Prince yet). I decided to follow the trend.

At the beginning of 2016, I’d accepted an exciting new job opportunity, I was looking for a house with my then-boyfriend, we were planning our future, I was even making my own green juices (I know, I know). By June I was broke, single, and rapidly regretting my decision to take the aforementioned job as I became disillusioned with my chosen industry. I wasn’t on a huge downward spiral as such, I was just a bit lost.
It wasn’t all bad. Things hadn’t been right with my boyfriend for some time and we quickly realised that we weren’t ready for a major commitment. I re-evaluated the industry I had chosen to work in and realised that there was a lot that I didn’t agree with, but that was ok – I didn’t have to dedicate my entire life to it. Things weren’t terrible, I didn’t quite move into a garret and start drinking laudanum, but I had no idea where I was supposed to go from this point.
Then came the obligatory clichéd epiphany moment. I went on my first solo trip in October, to Barcelona, a city I’d always wanted to visit, and it was there that everything changed and suddenly the world wasn’t quite so apocalyptic anymore. It was quite possibly the large quantities of sangria, or the excellent weather, but either way I fell totally, irretrievably in love, not with a person, but with the city, and indirectly, with the idea of freedom. I realized that this new period in my life shouldn’t be seen as a failure or a crisis, but a time for new opportunities. Why should I settle into the same pattern everyone else was, when so many of them clearly weren’t happy? Why should I settle down when I actually just wanted to explore?  I was single, I had no ties, I was finally having the quarter life crisis that everyone else had been banging on about and there had clearly never been a better time to indulge the crazy streak.
So I decided to quit my job and move to Spain. I studied for my TEFL certificate, quit my job, accepted a job in Barcelona for the summer, and tried to learn Spanish properly instead of picking it up from Pitbull videos. I’m leaving in a few weeks. Some days I’m beyond excited. Some days I feel like I’ve gone completely insane. Either way, it’s pretty crazy, but I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life other than the fact that I need to make a change.
I don’t know whether I’ll make this into a blog, or a book, or just hide it somewhere on my hard drive never to be discovered. It’s a form of therapy for me in one sense, allowing me to articulate my thoughts. I also hope it will be a hilarious insight into moving abroad and all that guff about finding oneself. If anyone does read this, I hope you enjoy it. Let’s see how it goes – and don’t forget to remind yourselves of the craziest things you’ve done lately – see if you can top it.

 

 

 

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