The afternoon when I came home last week, I was thrown right back into my life here in Stockholm, after six years away.
Right after arrival, I headed straight back into the city centre to see one of my best and oldest friends, who I hadn’t seen much the past year. We have now, since that day, spent several hours a day together again.
Everything is ecactly the way it is supposed to be. It’s all back to normal, back to it’s usual way, but better.
When I headed into my first shift at work, last Saturday morning at 7, despite the three hours of sleep and nine months away, I felt as if I had never been away. I knew how it all works inside out. Although, every now and again I had to stop and think for a second or two, as the time I was away brought along some changes in terms of where things are in the store. Every now and again I also had to pause for a thinker when a customer asked me where something is, mainly because I could not comprehend the Swedish words they were saying.
Having been home for a week, I have already managed to found a one-bedroom apartment in central Stockholm, been registered on Psychology A (which is the first level of an undergraduate course) and learned that I get to keep my job for as long as I want.
I can’t say no to these opportunities.
The other day I wrote the following paragraph:
In the past few weeks, I was incredibly close to fully give up on writing. As I walked out of the newsroom I was working in for a few days, I felt as if my dream for 20 years had been crushed. I then admitted to myself that working in that environment is not at all what I want to be doing. As melancholic as it felt, and as lost as it made me feel, a sense of freedom hit me. I knew that I now am free to do exactly what I want. I just needed to pick up next dream on my list and see where that takes me.
It seems as if this next dream, or merely task, on my list is to finish this psychology degree. It all started as a joke, but within two hours I had been registered on the course and easily found a one-bedroom apartment on floor 13 in a really nice area in central Stockholm – the area I always used to joke about that I want to live in when I am old and have retired.
I guess in a way I have retired: I resigned as a student in Britain, and for the time being, as a journalist and writer. Hopefully I’ll find my passion for writing again soon.
While all this is good news, it also feels rather melancholic to leave Scotland and the UK after five years. I am glad that my departure took place before I decided to not stick around next year. It would have been too hard leaving otherwise. Now I don’t need to take any goodbyes.
I am home to stay for a little while, living in the house in the picture below.