Where is Home?

Hello!

I’ve been away for a few days. My lovely other half took me to Southampton to meet a couple of guys he lived with when he spent some time in the Falklands, and the following day we stayed in Windsor. It was a lovely weekend, and we also went to Thorpe Park where I was persuaded to go on some of the bigger roller coasters, including the SAW ride, which is actually pretty cool.

I loved walking around Windsor, and the ground of the posh estate hotel we stayed at. I saw buzzards, cows, wild parakeets (I had no idea they were a thing, it’s a feral growing population that was started when people released some into the wild in certain areas), rabbits, geese, swans, and even a red kite!

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Forgive the poor quality image, my phone is awful.

It was a lovely weekend, but I’m very aware that I’m not happy. I am trying, but I just can’t seem to get there. I think I’m bored. I’ve been jobless through choice since May, I’ve had no university to keep me going and I haven’t really done much apart from stress myself out this holiday. I went to Poland and had this weekend in Windsor, but as I’ve been pretty disconnected, Poland never sunk in and there was a few things that made that event stressful, although in general it was pretty good.

I want to start job hunting, but I don’t ‘feel’ ready. It’s awkward. I’m aware that I’m getting low on money and I’m about to move again and have car insurance, but I feel like I’m stuck until I move. I feel like that’s the moment I’ll be able to be me again – when I’m out of this shithole my parents call a home.

I’ve really, really struggled with UK life since I got back from Africa. I think, in a way, I’ve always felt homeless. If anyone has experienced real homelessness, please don’t think I’m trying to belittle your situation, past or present, by saying this. I’ve always physically had a roof over my head, and to compare it to real homelessness would be insulting to those who are suffering without, I’m aware that this is an emotion that’s probably limited to those who physically live ‘comfortably.’ I’m talking about an emotional homelessness. I’ve never lived anywhere where I felt I could be 100% myself, bar when I had a flat with my ex but he was never home (we’d broken up) and I was living by myself. That felt like home. Africa also felt like home.

I detest UK life. It’s boring and mundane and full of little bullshit issues that don’t make a damn bit of difference to anything on a larger scale. I think I’ve mentioned this before, but there is no passion. Most of us end up in mediocre jobs that we are just doing to get by. We don’t want to do that job for the rest of our lives, it doesn’t give us any satisfaction, but we plod along, living to work and working to live a life we don’t have time for. We all go around with these big dreams in our heads of being rich, owning holiday homes or boats or flashy cars. I know that to complain about such a life would be deemed as being petty or spoilt, but it really is bullshit. We have lost ourselves.

We are so detached from nature by work and government and society and medicine that our lives have become meaningless. We have stripped the land bare for farmland and buildings and energy plants. Our wildlife is nothing. We went from having wolves, boar, beavers, lynx…to what? Sheep and cows, basically. The forests that once covered the land are gone. The UK is an empty place to live. You know you’ll survive, because we have the means to keep everything alive, but for what? Without being born into money or having great social skill, and knowing how to play society, you are left to trundle along, earning money for the big bosses, for the ones who know how to play the game, to ease their way up the financial and social ladders.

Maybe my issue is that I am too passionate. I’ve been through emotional trauma as a child and seen things kids shouldn’t see, only to come out the other side for this life to be waiting for me. This life with no challenges because we live in a western society, where we don’t need to fight to survive. We just survive.

Saying all this, because I never had to face off to physically dangerous situations, never had to hunt, never had to keep warm (bar a couple of winters with no heating), never really had to physically test myself, I am probably far from physically capable of doing such things now. At 26, my body shape is what it is. I do relatively little exercise, my muscles are weak, I’m not even a great cook because I don’t need to be. The chances are that moving into a community that’s anything other than the one I’ve known all my life would make me seriously ill, AND I’m terrible with languages.

So where is home? Where can I challenge myself without damaging myself? Where can I find satisfaction?

The search continues.

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