I’ve hinted at this a lot over the past few weeks but it’s always been distant. A thought in my head as opposed to a concrete decision. Now, though, I’m laying out the details.
I’m moving to Edinburgh on the 15th of October (cue panic!).
Since I first visited Edinburgh in 2015 I’ve wanted to live there. It felt right, like it was meant for me, which sounds a little crazy. Through the years, two more visits, and the most vivid dream of my life, that feeling has only intensified.
Cut to 2019 and I’m taking a HUGE gamble—moving up there with nothing but a rucksack, two houseplants, and a pocketful of hope. Yup, that means I don’t have a job there, friends, or a place to live. I’m oscillating between a weird, giddy sense of hope that everything will be fine, and sheer panic.
What am I doing? And why have I chosen now?
The first question I can’t answer, but the second…I’ll have a go.
For the last few years I’ve been in a sort of limbo. Always waiting for something to kickstart my life. I’ve worked incredibly hard, although often behind the scenes and invisibly, in hopes my blood, sweat, and tears (all literal) would pay off. They have in so many small ways—I’ve made amazing friends along every path I’ve travelled. Yet I’m still poor as hell and living at home. I have no ducks to even start organising them into rows. Over the last year I’ve felt who I am slipping away to leave behind a pessimistic, broken-hearted shell. Someone who never truly laughs and doesn’t bother dreaming.
I don’t want to be her anymore.
I miss how much I used to feel—the passion, the excitement, the naive hope. I miss the way I used to laugh so hard my stomach would hurt and tears would fall down my face. The way I’d tremble with an idea or an opinion or a well-told story. Instead of this…nothing.
So, over the summer I’ve been stashing money like a fiscally driven squirrel, and now have enough for a couple of month’s rent (or hostel money if I can’t find somewhere to rent…). Then I’ll get a job, any job, when I get to Scotland. I have this ‘it’s now or never’ fire burning in my chest. I’m twenty-seven which fills me with such an extreme, irrational sense of panic. Like sand is rapidly pouring from the hourglass of youth and I’m desperate to catch it, but it slips through my fingers regardless. (I know, I told you it was irrational. Bloody hell, Rebecca, you’re twenty-seven not seventy.)
But why NOW? Why October, specifically?
Well, winter is coming… Work in pasty shops is limited to nonexistent during the winter months. So, I fire a question back at you, why not? I’m losing nothing by taking this risk. But by jumping into something unsafe I could gain a whole new life. Seems like a good bet to me.
To start things off, this week I took a deep breath and handed in my notice. Now all there’s left to do is jump.
[If, coincidentally, you are an employer in Edinburgh, or you need freelance work doing, or you happen to be hideously rich and want to offer a poor stranger a house…let me know, yeah? Much appreciated, chums.]