I'm addicted to the if only

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Hi everyone! I hope you’re having a good start to the week!

This newsletter’s title is borrowed from I Look in People’s Windows by Taylor Swift

ICYMI, this month’s theme for all of our events and prompts is belonging and home. You can read more about how I arrived there in last week’s newsletter.

To cut a long story short, belonging and the concept of home have always been subjects that capture my interest.

My family relocated to Central Scotland from the North West of England in the mid-90s. From there, I spent a lot of time travelling back and forth and living between two places for the majority of my childhood. It’s hard to feel like you belong anywhere when you’re not sure where home truly is.

By the time I finished school, I was ready to leave small-town life behind and find out who I could be in a place that I chose.

Living in Edinburgh (the first time) was one of the happiest times of my life. I found my people; I felt rooted and like I belonged. It was hard to say goodbye when I graduated, but part of me needed to see what else was out there. The scariest thing was not knowing what I would come back to - or if I would come back at all.

Despite the uncertainty, I left the comfort of Edinburgh for China and all the possibilities living abroad held. I lived, worked, and travelled around the country, East and South East Asia for 6 and a half years.

I returned home when I could to see friends, visit family, touch base with my past, and make space for my present. For the most part, I still belonged. I still had roots here. It was reassuring and, on the surface, familiar.

I knew the city, my friends, and loved ones were changing, but I wish I had realised that I was also growing more unfamiliar the longer I stayed away.

It has been hard to feel like I belong here again when I am so different from the person who arrived in 2009. Honestly, I don’t know what all the people I’ve been would make of me now. I doubt 2009 me and 2025 me would be friends - probably because there’s a 16-year age gap between us. Who knows what would surface from that void if we ever met for coffee.

Anyway, this ramble through my brain merely touches on the complexity of living in between places. It creates uncertainty. It can make you focus on the what-ifs more than the present. It often forces you to compartmentalise instead of embracing the messy whole. It can make you uncomfortable with familiarity and connection while you also desperately crave it. It’s not easy to wrestle with, but it has fuelled my writing, so without further ado, let’s have a look at…