Well, here we are again.
To be honest I never thought this blog would see another entry. But here we are.
I'm moving back to Ireland.
It's no secret that I love that country. If you've talked to me at all over the past year (or the past 4 years) you know firsthand that Ireland comes up in most conversations. It isn't out of bragging that I do it, but because Ireland runs through my veins so completely that it's hard to detach from it. Nay, it's impossible to detach myself from it. I told myself before I left Dublin that I would give it 3 months back in the States and if I fell back into old habits or didn't find what I was looking for, I would go back across the pond. When I returned, 3 months seemed hardly long enough, so I gave myself 6. After 6 months things still hadn't lined up but I thought I should give myself a year. It's now been a year and some change. And even though I "told" myself I would go back to Dub if it didn't work out, I can't say I actually expected it to happen. It's a whirlwind again. A combination of fear and excitement and disbelief and gratitude and anxiety and relief.
Amazing things had to line up for this to happen.
So, here we are.
I've gotten a lot of mixed response from other people regarding my decision. Most people are excited for me. Many of them expected this. And some of them are shocked that I came back at all.
But then there are the people who are very concerned for me, who are afraid that I'm running away from something, who believe I am jumping the gun and leaving too soon. There are some who believe I am being overly selfish and irresponsible, who believe that living in Ireland once should have been enough.
It makes decision-making harder when people you love don't understand, but I've learned that most of the time they respond this way out of love, even if it's misunderstood. I must constantly remind myself that I am the only one who will have to really live with the consequences of my actions, and that I am choosing what I think is correct for my life.
I've learned a lot this year. When I returned I never really acclimated into a social group. The friends I had when I left for Dublin are still my friends, but the connection is no longer as strong. I don't love them any less, but our paths have taken different directions it seems. The majority of my social group now comes from work and from cast members. These people have been a saving grace in an otherwise socially isolated year. But Ireland has a pace that I know and love. It's a movement that I relate to and identify with. I know who I am there and how I fit in.
Am I running? Nah. I mean, sure. You could call it that. I don't call it that, but you could if you wanted to. But I'm also not afraid of that term, nor do I think it needs to have some sort of "doom and gloom" connotation. I'm leaving. Quickly. Walking quickly isn't a run. It also isn't not a run. But I'm leaving. Quickly.
I am a single, childless, self-aware female who owns no property aside from a vehicle. I don't want to run out of time for adventures and the Universe has plopped an opportunity in my lap. I got what I asked for, and I'll be damned if I don't take. The possibility of the insane magnitude of regret NOT taking this opportunity is too heavy to carry. I am not willing to pass this up. I want to go where I believe I am most at peace. And I get to. And I'm gonna do it. And it's scary. And I'm gonna do it. So...
Here we are. A Year and Some Change later.
