It’s my birth month, so grab your gift: if you’re not a paid subscriber, for the month of July, I’m offering 25% off annual subscriptions. I hope you join me!
As I write this, I’m sitting in a little restaurant in my neighbourhood having a cappuccino, a detour on my way back home after spending a few hours writing at a new-to-me coworking space. Alex is home having a Zoom session with her voice coach, and I don’t want to disturb them.
Also as I write this, it dawns on me that I’m approaching two months since I’ve been in the UK full time. In some ways, it already feels like home: I know where everything is in my local grocery store. The dog has settled into her routine. And, well, I have a new-to-me coworking space to which I commute every day to write. So yes, I’m home. And it’s amazing that I’m feeling this way in such as short time.
Except.
Except we’re still in the process of purchasing a bigger space, which means that poor Alex is sleeping on a mattress on the floor of the living room of our 1-bedroom flat. Most of our things remain in storage, and Marcus is still in Houston, organizing their shipment, and trying to figure out how to time it so that it arrives around the same time that we get the keys to the house — which, if you’ve ever purchased property in England, you know is a roller-coaster of an uncertain ride. And then — perhaps most alarmingly — since we’ve been here the weather has been hot and dry, two adjectives I would’ve never bet on using to describe life in England. Don’t get me wrong, it makes for amazing sightseeing days, so I definitely shouldn’t complain, but … it’s weird, is what I’m saying. England is supposed to be cold and rainy, I don’t make the rules. The sunny hot weather whispers things like “global warming” and “climate change,” and can I really say that I’m feeling “at home,” when the weather isn’t doing “at home” sorts of things?”
Anyway, all this to say that when I’m asked how I’m settling in, it’s a hard question to answer. Settling in is … well, unsettling. I mean, I’m definitely so glad I’m here. I remain stunned at how beautiful this city is. And I’m excited about all the potential of our future life. But “settling in” is a slow process. It happens in its own time. And it’s best done methodically.
I’m a champion worrier, but the other morning, I came across these words from Instagrammer James Pyke:
This simple sentence sort of jolted me awake: our family as been in limbo for a while now (really, about 18 months now, while making these moves across the pond), but honestly, I’m just so tired of worrying. I’m bored with all my worrying.
So I realize I need to use my imagination differently. I should imagine what it will feel like to turn in my manuscript later this year. I’ll imagine what Alex’s life looks like when she finds her own place — to live, to work, and to create her own community. I need to imagine our new home.
Because I think using my imagination well might just be the key to settling in.
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