I’ve finally started telling people about my decision to move to Australia (I say “finally” not because I’ve known I was going to do this for ages, but rather because I’m impatient and excited and want to do nothing but tell everyone). Everyone’s reactions seem to follow the same pattern:
1. Wow! That’s amazing! I’m so excited for you! I’m so jealous!
2. So why are you doing this?
“Why are you doing this” is a good question. A great question. One I’d love to know myself. My short answer: why not? My long answer:
I’ve been in a total funk/rut/depression/whatever you want to call it for about eight months now. Eight months! It’s normal for me to get a little down in the dumps every now and then. I feel shitty for a few days or a week, then I get better. Bam! Easy! No sweat! A little sadness is good for you! But EIGHT MONTHS?! This is not something I do. Even when I was in high school and no1 understanz my pain…even then I could slap myself out of it. But I just haven’t been able to this time.
I’ve gained 20lbs. I haven’t been doing comedy. I haven’t gone to yoga. I keep picking shitty food over good food (I really like good food!). I haven’t cooked a proper meal in ages. I rarely feel like going out with friends. I haven’t gone shopping for new clothes. The list goes on and on.
Most stinging was that I wasn’t planning my big trip around the world that I was intending to go on in September.* I kept telling people I was going away to travel the world. I kept saying I was excited, devoured travel blogs, asked opinions on where I should go…everything! But inside? Inside I just didn’t have that excitement that I knew I should have had. I didn’t have that drive. I couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t taking notes on cities, why I wasn’t budgeting like crazy…I just didn’t feel like I was going to up and leave for a year. I didn‘t feel like one of those traveling souls who could just do something like that. I kept doubting myself, my abilities, my drive and passion. I kept wondering “what am I running away from?”
When this opportunity came to move to Melbourne and live for cheap with some of the nicest , most fun people I’ve ever met, it just felt right. I love Toronto and think it’s the best city on Earth, but I felt compelled to leave it.
I got the message and just felt like it was exactly what I was supposed to do. I felt it in my gut, and got excited in my knees.** I knew that this was what I was going to do, and that it was the right decision. I can’t describe it, really, but my friend Carole would say something like “this is God’s way of telling you that you simply have to do this”. I don’t know how I feel about God or anything, but I can appreciate what she’s trying to say. I mean, I’ve found a lot of people housing and jobs and stuff before, so maybe this is my good karma coming back to me?
I know moving is crazy, ridiculous, impulsive and goes against all logic and reason. Believe me, I’d rather be moving to Australia with more money, with more time, and in the frigging summer. Like, I’m going from one winter to another winter. What a idiot. I mean, I’m the kind of person who follows her gut and tends to be a bit impulsive (though I figure I’m more impatient than impulsive), but deciding to move to a new country with less than two months before my move date?! Come ON, Jenny. I don’t do stuff like this. At least, I think I don’t.
The truth is, I couldn’t tell you just one reason that I’m moving, because there are many. It’s not for a job or a boy, it’s not to sit on a beach and eat Pad Thai all day, or try to become a famous comedian. I’m moving because a lot of things were going down and eventually the dam I built to keep it all in sprung a leak…and everything, good and bad, came out and happened and poof. I decided to move. Call it crazy (I do) but I’ve bought my tickets and can’t back out now.
Besides, it’s not forever. It’s just for now.
*Oh. Yeah, I’ve been planning a RTW trip for about a year now.
**When I get really emotional or drunk, I feel things in my knees. It’s weird, eh? Like, I can tell how many drinks I’ve had by paying attention to my knees. When I’m heartbroken, I feel it in my knees. When I’m excited, it’s all about my knees.