Two years ago I was adrift in a way that I hadn’t been in a long while, and writing these weekly essays was, I thought, my best chance to find a way home again after yet another move.
This week is the two-year anniversary of publishing essays here on Substack. I’ve published 90 essays—this is Number 91—which is a number I didn’t quite imagine when I started. I had a few vague ideas about what I might want to achieve by writing these essays, but I knew more than anything else, I just needed to start. The end, or how I progressed along the way didn’t much matter.
Six months earlier we had moved to the Isle of Wight. The move was our choice, not job-related like the previous two. We traversed across the south of England to be closer to my partner’s parents who needed more hands-on assistance. We both worked remotely so it seemed ‘easy enough’ to move.
Or so we thought.
Six years earlier we had spent a year in France. Twelve years earlier we had moved to the UK from California. I understood moving. We’d both moved a lot in our lives. Read this post if you want more details…
After our other substantive moves to different countries, I don’t know why this reasonably local move got to me, but it surely did.
Part of it was burnout from all the years of energy I had put into meeting people, creating community, a business, and making friends all in a new culture when we moved to the UK originally. I think it knocked me for six, as they say here. I repeated some of that introvert-busting meeting-new-people-activity again when we moved to France, although since it was a temporary relocation I scaled back my outreach considerably.
When we moved to the Island, I began the process again to find ‘my people’ and quickly realised I just didn’t have the energy to do what was needed to create a new community. I knew it would take years. My body and heart said: been there, done that. Enough.
I’d accomplished a lot in my working life; it was time to try something else. I have written all my life for work: reports, newsletters, proposal bids, marketing collateral, resumes/CVs, gobs of editing, writing articles for news stories. But for a few decades I hadn’t written any essays just for me. It was time to see if this was something I could do. The discipline of writing and hitting publish on a regular basis appealed to me. It was a structure I was familiar with (accountability and deadlines!) Only this time it was on my own terms and with my very own ideas. Publishing weekly seemed like an achievable goal, if a bit of a stretch.
And since I started, I’ve been able to write something new almost every week; something that’s come along because I am trying to pay attention, and find something that is of interest to you too. A topic almost always bubbles up, not least because I sit down at my desk every day to write something. Like many artists and writers, no matter what I am doing, I am often thinking about what I am seeing in front of me, and what kind of story could come from it.
The point of writing these essays has been to think more deliberately about home, and travel, and how they each fit in our lives. I try to slow down, pay attention to details, try to discover meaning in the places of our lives. For me, places are important: the physical spaces we live in dominates my mood and I wonder if they do yours too? Yes, I complain a bit too much about British weather! (But it is raining today, honestly!!!)
These pieces are not always the best writing, but they are always heartfelt, and from me to you. I love the feedback and comments I get from readers who respond. Some of you message me privately, and some of you speak to me if I meet you. Knowing that any of what I write resonates with you is the biggest gift you give this writer. I get new ideas based on your comments and conversations we have, so thank you for that. ALSO: that you subscribe at all makes me do a happy dance each and every time.
Writing each week and discussing ideas about home with you is a wonderful way to travel on this path. I am getting closer to understanding what home means to me; what about you??
Thanks again for reading this week. I appreciate your indulgence in my celebrating my two-year anniversary. And as always, thanks so much for your company along the way! It makes all the difference ❤️
xoxo Sabrina
If you know anyone who might like to read these posts, feel free to send this one their way. Just click this button here:
And if you aren’t subscribing already, here’s the button for doing that (it’s free!):
If you liked reading this, feel free to click the ❤️ button on this post so more people can discover it on Substack 🙏
TWO YEARS!! What an achievement Sabrina, hooray! And honestly how did that time go by SO fast?? Reading your sub stacks each week has become a welcome part of my life, and I always look forward to your creative and imaginative takes on a whole host of topics. Thank you for that and look forward to the years to come!
Firstly, thank the stars you came to Substack. I always feel at home just reading your columns - they're too good, too emotive to be called 'posts'. And it's been very special to make the connection.
Secondly, re home: we've moved way too much in our lives and whilst we always had a house, I always found it difficult to call it a home because that implied so much more. I needed more of the settling of the soul, of a deep contentment, not just a shelter.
I always knew 'home' was back on the island of Tasmania (and was happy when we finally moved back). Of course, my older past friends had moved on and we'd all changed too. But I didn't go searching for new friends. I let serendipity do its thing and helped it along a bit by following areas of interest, doing classes and courses. Better friends appeared and relationships formed. But as I'm essentially an introvert who is happiest when alone (or with family and dog), the most important thing for me are the surroundings and what I make of them. That has happened at a deepening level with each passing day and I'm profoundly grateful for it.