They always say that, don’t they? Home is where the heart is, but recently I’ve been feeling a bit confused and conflicted in that way. Like, I’m not entirely sure where my heart really lies.
I’d like to point out right now, this isn’t me saying I’m have second thoughts about marrying Tom. Far from it. I mean in it in a much more literal sense. I mean geographically I don’t know where it lies. So if my heart doesn’t know where it is, where’s home?
On one hand Liverpool will always be “home” home. It’s where I’m from, it’s where my family is, it’s where a lot of my friends are – it’s home. However, London is now home too. London is where Tom and I live in our little flat that’s just for us. It’s where work is, where my life at the moment is and another set of friends.
This isn’t the issue though. Defining home and “home” home is easy it’s the conflicting feelings that surface every now and then that make it hard and this is exactly my current head space at the moment.
I love London. It’s somewhere I’ve always wanted to be and now, well, here I am. I’m really happy in London and I know I’m definitely not ready to leave yet. I know this for sure as I’ve toyed with the idea of applying for jobs elsewhere. Even those times when I have applied, the second after I’ve hot that button I’ve oped against hope that I don’t get it. I was asked to go for an interview for a job in Liverpool a while ago and just couldn’t bring myself to go out of my way to get there when they wanted me to when I already had a planned trip there a week later. I guess that just proves that I didn’t really want it.
It’s simple then right? Stay in London. Wrong! Recently I’ve been thinking about moving back up North.
I daydream about being able to afford an actual house with a garden and being close to all my friends again. I think about just being able to pop round and see my mum and it being really easy to be involved in family things. It might just be a bout of homesickness but it’s really taking its toll on me this time. I do get homesick every now and then but it normally coincides with a trip home. I think because I know the trip is coming I start thinking about it more. Like a self-fulfilling prophesy, if you know what I mean?
The thing is, this time I’ve not long returned from a trip to Liverpool. In fact it was only two weeks ago. So why is this feeling of wanting to go back persisting?
I’ve spoken to Tom about this a few times and he doesn’t really have a preference as to where we live in the long run, which is lucky for me I guess. Maybe it’s just because I’m northern to the core I’ll always long to be back there. Maybe it’s just because I have this image of our house and family and know we would be more likely to be able to afford it up there. Maybe I’m just getting itchy feet and a move from our flat to another one in London will fix it. Who knows? But for now I’m feeling pretty conflicted about the whole thing.