In my last post I mentioned how I went back to Sweden to visit friends and family and how I found that to be a little bit scary. I wrote I’d explain, and I’ll try to do that now.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I love Sweden. It’s where I grew up and where I’ve spent most of my life. It’s where most of my really close friends are and where my parents live. I just haven’t lived there for the last nine and a half years.
It doesn’t feel like home anymore.
In fact, it’s a little bit scary.
It’s a very different world compared to where I live now. Here, in Ireland, my life is simple and easy. Apart from work, which I generally quite enjoy, it revolves largely around things I enjoy: going for walks, playing games, writing, eating, and sleeping. There’s little else. Occasionally I go shopping for groceries. Sometimes I have to run an errand.
Everything I need is withing walking distance – and that’s without considering that I’m the kind of guy who walks half a marathon for fun.
I don’t need a car. It’d be cool to have, so I could drive to the coast and go walking in a different location, but other than that, I don’t need one. I’m single. I don’t have kids. I have friends here, but very few social obligations. I can do whatever I want, whenever I want. I’m not mentioning this to brag, but to put things in perspective.
My life is simple, and apart from work, most of what I do (writing, gaming, walking around daydreaming), has very little to do with what’s going on in the real world. I’m basically living in some kind of sparkly fantasy dreamland.
It’s pretty great.
That is, until I go somewhere else and get reminded that there’s a world outside my fluffy little bubble – like now when I went back home last week.
The friends and the family I met, seemed happy enough, if a bit tired. They’re happy and comfortable with their worlds they live in. They deal with them every day, and they’re used to it. It’s fine for them.
Still, it scares me, the world.
It’s big. It’s complicated. You need a car. You have to make plans. You’ve got responsibilities and obligations and appointments. The thing is, it’s really not that big a deal. People are used to it, and they deal with it, and they don’t even think about it. I’m sure if I still lived there, I would too.
But I don’t.
I live in a fluffy little dream-land where I just drift along like a marshmallow boat on a chocolate river. It’s really nice, but how long can I keep doing that? What if I want to move back home? I’d need someone to hold my hand while I figure life out.
Sure, it wouldn’t be that bad. I’d figure it out and get back into it without too much trouble. It just fascinates me how different my life here is when compared to the lives of my friends and family back home – and how much that worries me.
And – as with so many other things – I’m a lot less worried now that I’ve written about it.
I’m mostly just feeling silly now.