Before I got sick I was all set to move here. I had a job, a flat in Clapham and my parents were supportive and happy to pick up the slack with my animals in Cape Town.
But then life happened, or rather a giant bloody tumour happened and then the next year and a half of my life was mostly stolen from me as I fought one complication after another, a second tumour and then finally IVF treatment to freeze eggs having been left with only a part of 1 ovary in the process. I firmly believe I was meant to get sick and that it was a much needed wake up call in many respects but it did sweep the ground out from under me across the board and I'm still kind of picking up the pieces of my life in some ways.
The main downside of getting sick is that it made me scared. I was told that stress was a major factor in why I grew these super tumours and as a result I felt myself beginning to shy away from challenging situations.
Since then I've found myself living a life that is far too safe and in many ways, far too easy, which in turn means that I have the time to analyse everything. I'm all for living a spiritual and philosophical life but sometimes life is for living, not thinking or understanding or analysing. I feel like I'm able to "eat, love, pray" everything and that if I had to lug 3 bags of groceries up a few flights of stairs I'd probably find myself a whole lot less inclined to ponder the meaning of life and instead get on with living it.
Apart from getting sick, leaving home has always been hard because of my parents. My dad is very sick and my mum and I are incredibly close and I know my being there makes both of their lives better.
So sometimes it feels selfish to leave, or to choose my future over theirs. But I know that sometimes you have to be selfish and that neither of them would ever want to stand in the way of me spreading my wings, which I think is exactly why I find it so hard to do so. They are so selfless, so loving, so supportive and I'm the only one able to return those favours. I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place. My heart is telling me that I'm doing myself a disservice by staying in Cape Town, that London is the place that I will grow, that I will find my place, my purpose and my people but yet two of the people that give me purpose and a place in this life are not here and the thought of living apart from them is utterly heart breaking.
The above poem came up in my Facebook memories from 2 years ago, a few weeks before I got sick when it was as applicable as it is today.
I feel the compromise would be to try and give myself a few months here. Find someone that could use an extra pair of hands for 3 months, a sofa to camp on and then give actually living here a go. It's all very well falling in love with the place when I'm here on holiday but what does it actually feel like to live here, to work here, to be here. That's what I need to find out. And there's only one way and that's to do it.
For now I'm just putting it out to the universe and opening my mind and my heart to the possibilities that present themselves. Anything more than that is overwhelming.
With hope & love,
Daisy xx
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