No Place Like Home
Aug. 27th, 2013 06:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dormant_dragonSometimes you have to go away for a while to recognise those home truths that have been so much a part of the everyday that you've stopped seeing them.
It took a two-week break catching up with friends and family for me to realise that I really had become completely disenchanted with my job. The result was, of course, that I walked away from it to pursue my long-held desire to make my living with my own words (rather than someone else's).
I've now come back from two-and-a-half weeks in Perth, again catching up with friends and family, and what I have realised more than ever is that it's good to be home.
In the past, I always used to feel slightly dejected at the end of a break or a holiday, because it was quite a dull prospect to have to go back to the familiar territory of home. So it was with a certain amount of surprise that I realised on Saturday night when my plane landed at Tullamarine that I was happy and looking forward to getting on with my life back home.
There's more than one reason for me to be surprised at this response. I feel as if I've been quite disengaged from my life for most of the past couple of years, really since losing Bossie. The combination of grief, depression and self-medication is a great way to lose your motivation and just find yourself going through the motions, maintaining a shell of an existence with no real substance. It's not that long since I've begun to claw my way back out of the fog and try to start living again.
So actually feeling happy to be home is a great sign that I'm beginning to find my feet with what feels like a whole new start. It's early days, of course, but I now know that I'm where I want to be, where I belong.
It took a two-week break catching up with friends and family for me to realise that I really had become completely disenchanted with my job. The result was, of course, that I walked away from it to pursue my long-held desire to make my living with my own words (rather than someone else's).
I've now come back from two-and-a-half weeks in Perth, again catching up with friends and family, and what I have realised more than ever is that it's good to be home.
In the past, I always used to feel slightly dejected at the end of a break or a holiday, because it was quite a dull prospect to have to go back to the familiar territory of home. So it was with a certain amount of surprise that I realised on Saturday night when my plane landed at Tullamarine that I was happy and looking forward to getting on with my life back home.
There's more than one reason for me to be surprised at this response. I feel as if I've been quite disengaged from my life for most of the past couple of years, really since losing Bossie. The combination of grief, depression and self-medication is a great way to lose your motivation and just find yourself going through the motions, maintaining a shell of an existence with no real substance. It's not that long since I've begun to claw my way back out of the fog and try to start living again.
So actually feeling happy to be home is a great sign that I'm beginning to find my feet with what feels like a whole new start. It's early days, of course, but I now know that I'm where I want to be, where I belong.
