It’s 2017. Which means in 7 months it will have been 10 years since I moved to England.
How different I was then. How naiive. How hopeful. I was so confident of myself, of the path that I had chosen and so determinedly followed.
Now I am a fragment of my former self—my confidence shattered, optimism extinguished in the dark pits of depression.
But I am still here. I pulled through. I wake up each day, go to work, cultivate relationships. But life was not the same. It was uninspiring, lethargic, deadening.
Until yesterday, when I decided to move to Vietnam.
After two days in Hanoi and some encouragement from my good friend, I decided to take the reins and drive my life into a different direction. I have no idea if it is the right one, but it will be the first path I lay for myself in a long time.
Which I guess is enough.
Since then it’s as if I’m seeing the world through different eyes. The fire that burnt out is re-kindled. The spark of life reborn. My brain is buzzing with possibilities, busy making plans, imagining what life will be like.
In a year. That’s the deadline I’ve set for myself. I give myself a year to prepare, and then I’m packing my bags and heading to the airport.
I’m writing this post on 4 January 2017. But I won’t publish it until I’ve moved. So if you’re reading this, then I’ve made it. I’ve kept the promise to myself. I’ve taken a step into the unknown, inched closer to the life that I used to imagine for myself.
A life of excitement, adventures, discoveries…
A life I wish for me, for you, for us.