7 years in the making

The wonders of social media have informed me that I moved to Yorkshire 7 years ago today – and I say the wonders, I mean the little “On this day” feature in the great wonder of the Facebook. Along with the Google, we have more information available to us than ever before, information we could sometimes be better off forgetting. I confess I have a little look at said feature and look back at whatever was happening to me that I felt it necessary to post and most of the time I cringe. I was drunk for a large part, sad for others and in between, well…lets not go there. As I write, I’m surrounded by note books, printed journal articles and most recently, 2 anatomy and physiology text books. Husband is in the garage creating something out of wood and The Cat (capitals required) has decided that outside isn’t as much fun as inside, especially seeing as it is about 5 degrees cooler and much wetter than yesterday. All of these things are so far removed from the person that moved 7 years ago – she almost seems like a different person.

I moved from Plymouth, in a van with very few possessions and a person who was once my friend. Plymouth had been my home for about 8 years, with a small break in the middle. I’d been to university there, worked and played there and become very ill there. I’d had my heart-broken there and also picked back up but it was the heartbreak that made me leave and a promise of something new that pulled me North. North, the word makes me hopeful. It points up on a compass and forwards in a straight line towards new things. When we have been to my parents who are very firmly in the South, I look forward to seeing the signs on the M1 for The North. At Watford Gap, we smile and say, “now we’re in The North again”. For saying that I spent 25 years in the southern part of the country, I’m very much at home in this part of the northern bit.

I said before I moved North for a promise of something new. At the time, it was a blossoming relationship and a hope of a new start. Like blossom, new starts fade. Blossom turns to fruit, the fruit is picked and eaten and then winter comes, bringing the tree into a slumber, waiting for the new Spring to start the process all over again. My new start became routine, I worked, I loved and things changed. I changed, we changed. Change is the only constant in life, a quote attributed to the Greek philosopher Heraclitus and one that I’ve never been more aware of as of late. My most recent endeavors of education and pursuing my dream were a just that when I moved here, a dream. But more than that, the changes in the last seven years have brought me to where I am now, mentally and physically.

It would be too easy to decry my previous behaviours as irresponsible, childish and lacking forethought. I’ll admit some of my behaviour has been rather stupid, and maybe I should have thought a bit more with my head and less with my heart but I know I have learnt from such times. Taking out a loan on a car I no longer own but I’m still paying for – bad choice and I’ve learnt not to do that again. Working for a bully and a predator – very bad choice but one I’ve learnt from. My instincts are better and I’ve learnt to trust them. These two, and many others that I can’t begin to list have all brought me to this point, at this desk, in this house, with this life. History is formulated as we live and isn’t supposed to be a conscious construct to give us a perfect reflection of our life. We see the good, the bad and the ugly when we look at our history.

As for the next 7 years, I’m glad I don’t know what is in store for me. My life is for the making of stories and the having of adventures. Would I have made the move North if I’d have know what was to happen? Who knows – the question is moot. I do know that I’m glad I did. The next 7 – it’s about to happen.


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