A Nomad at Heart or The Need to Run Away
It appears to be my nature to not stay very long in one place. I am not actually a nomad, or a itinerant (a more recent term) and I am not frantically looking for the greener grass. But I have noticed over the years that I like to keep moving and get fidgety if I have spent too long on the same spot. The cut off date seems to be two years from start.
It has now been six years since I settled in England having moved over from Germany. Originally I was only staying for a six month work experience but for the first time in my life I felt totally and completely at home. This was a fascinating sensation and I began setting up life with the thought in the back of my head that after a couple of years I shall move on to another country, maybe Canada or New Zealand.
Over the span of my life time I never had a relationship longer than two years, worked anywhere for longer than two years and re-educated myself constantly with courses lasting from a year to maximum three years.
I kept moving, mentally and physically. At some point I asked myself what it was that I was running away from? I didn’t find a decent answer.
There is a growing sense inside of me that says that I was a hermit in a past life. I walked alone. I slept where I happened to be when I got tired and ate what nature or friendly folks had on offer. I was very wise but kept most of it to myself. Whether this is true or not I will never know for sure. But it would explain many traits of mine that I carry around with me now.
Every year I feel the need to escape and discover another part of the world. Wherever I go I feel a connection, a sense that I must have been here before. I long for nature, woods, trees, hills, mountains, lakes, the sea and wide meadows and grassland. I like to walk in general. I honour the surroundings I encounter. I don’t very much like people. I don’t mind to go away on my own.
Furthermore I don’t like clutter. The more I possess the more enclosed I feel. Despite having grown up as a common hoarder. There was a point when we moved house when I was in my early teens when I got rid of quite a lot and ever since couldn’t bear accumulating more. If anything new arrived, something old had to go.
The first time I agreed to take up a permanent job was when I was 27 years of age. And all I could agree to was 24 hours. I quite frankly panicked. Me, trapped in one place? What if I didn’t like it? I wouldn’t be able to just run when I felt like it!
Two years later I was able to increase my hours to 36. Not without yet another flutter of anxiety. It is the sheer variety of my job that keeps me where I am. No day is ever the same with many challenges.
Recently I have arrived at a new milestone. Two years in a relationship. A good relationship, despite my many commitment fears and imposed anxieties from a previous relationship. However, now I don’t know what to do. What do you do in a long term relationship after two years? There seems to be no blueprint in my present nor in my past life, no clue how to handle this situation. And my nomadic heart wants to run for the hills. There it can find new stimuli and rejoice in new activities to my heart’s content.
This is fine in theory, in practice, however, a completely different ballgame. I like my partner, but my gut warns me of danger that is imminent although this sensation is not because of my partner, more because of my own experiences. As someone who is used to follow my gut instinct this poses a tricky quest. I am used to just turn around and leave if I don’t like something, I never tried to make something work. It is so much easier to just leave. Trying to makes something work sounds like a lot of hassle to me. It might not be worth the hard work.
At the moment I hover. Unsure of who I am and who I want to be. I liked the idea of setting up a base with my partner, a place we can both operate from, live our lives how we wish and yet sharing it with each other. But I am not sure I can do it. Maybe I like the idea of it more than the actual implementation.
A few years ago I a made myself a promise. I promised that I will never stay anywhere where I am not happy. This was in conjunction with a traumatic relationship. Unfortunately no relationship is 100% perfect. Live just doesn’t work like that. And my little dream bubble of the perfect relationship has suffered many fatal wounds. Maybe I just need to accept that nobody is perfect. Not even me. Yes, not even me, however hard I try.
I am keeping my little bubble afloat, on my quest to the perfect sollution.
The crux of two years. What is a life worth if you only ever live two years of it?
I will tell you if I have found the answer 😉