I’ve been working full-time for almost 6 months now, and I think that means I have started adulting. A little. Well, sort of. After moving solo to the UK as a 19 year old small-town girl I have now moved home and lived with my family for 6 months, once again becoming a small-town girl. This time I’m 22, going on 23. I’ve been working a full-time job, paying a bit of rent, paying my student loan and even managed to put some money away in a never-before-used savings account specifically locked to buying a house. I am under no illusion that I will actually manage to buy a house anytime soon, but at the time it felt like a step forward.
Now I’m not so sure.
It’s an odd feeling, having my dream job, but not living the dream. I am getting to do everything I ever wanted to do. Media, culture, tourism, writing, creating, imagining and living in the Arctic – every day. I have the loveliest of colleagues and have learned so much about people, about office jobs, about routine and the simple joys in life. Like never knowing quite what the day will bring, and constantly being challenged to be better, learn faster, adapt more. Like being part of a team, working together to get results and make a change, large and small.
I think the problem with graduating university for me is that I lived the dream. I got on a plane and flew all alone to the country of magic and boarding schools and accents and literature. I made the dream my everyday life. I was lucky enough to live the dream. My dream. And where do you go once the dream is over?
I find myself looking for a new dream. A new place, a new goal, a new purpose outside of just letting the days run past me, as I wait for things to happen. I don’t want to wait anymore. It has been 7 months since I graduated university and 4 months since I started my new part-time course in tourism management. And now the countdown to April has started. Come Easter I will once again be back in the UK, this time with no plan, other than to end the long distance relationship with my English love.
I have small goals, but an overarching dream for myself is still distant in mind. How can I find the place where I belong, and the new dream to keep me growing and learning and evolving into the best version of myself possible? How can my English love and I end up where we need to be, and where our individual dreams take us, while simultaneously dreaming together? There are practicalities to every dream of course, but I think it possible, if not inevitable, that all dreams become reality some way or another. Maybe not like I ever imagined it, but always born out of the little choices and the big decisions that shape the path we all walk. We can choose to be swept away by the wave of bricks, but if we resist the wave and control our steps,the yellow brick road will form before us, once again clear, although never not muddy.
The countdown is on. It will hurt to leave my family again, to leave my new-old life, to say goodbye to my colleagues and the comfort of knowing the days to come. For now I am knitting, working, going to my local gym and pondering the path ahead. But in two and a half months I am off again, seeking a Great Perhaps. and a new dream.