A few weeks ago, while I was on hiatus from my life and my problems time passed slowly. Two and a half weeks felt more like two months. Now I’ve been back for nearly a fortnight and that time has passed in the blink of an eye.
While I was taking a break I got out and about and did things. I came up with lots of plans and ideas of what I was going to do to sort my life out. I felt inspired.
Since I’ve been back to normal I’ve done less than a quarter of the things on my to do list, I’ve hardly done anything else, or been anywhere else, or seen anyone at all.
The first moral of this story is that life is only short if you don’t do anything with it. If you fill it with activity, and interests, and people you’ll actually have a lot more time for all that stuff. I want my life to be like that again.
My flat used to be really expensive storage for my stuff. I used to be out and about all the time seeing people, going places, learning stuff, and having adventures. But I seem to have lost myself somehow.
The second conclusion that I’ve drawn is that I’m clearly stuck in a rut where I am now and that I get a better perspective on my life when I’m elsewhere. This also makes it seem as though my depression might be situational, at least in part. So I might as well move to China instead.
There’s currently a ninety percent chance that I’m going to accept that offer of a job in China. To have lived abroad was, after all, one of the things that I intended to before I turned thirty.
I just need to work out what the niggling feeling is that I have right now that’s stopping me committing one hundred percent.