Going home, moving forward

Sometimes you have to go back to where you came from, to remember where it is you are going.

I spent a my youth woking out how to get away from the place I had grown up, and even longer staying away once I had.

At first I was driven by spite, eager to prove people wrong and make something of myself. I then told myself that I needed to stay away due to lack of opportunities upon leaving the navy.

I was staying away from the place I knew, where the people I loved were, and the place that helped make me the person I am today.


I can’t really put the feeling into words, but the best way I can explain it is when you haven’t been in contact with a friend for a period of time. Not due to falling out, just life getting in the way. The more time passes by, the more awkward you feel about reaching out. Once you take the step to make the call, you wonder where the anxiety came from.

I recently went home and found myself with a spare few hours. It turns out a dog sitter is a hard thing to come by so I had my little companion with me for most of the weekend. I took the opportunity to walk up to the place where my dad and I would go when I was younger. As I looked out to sea, I felt content.

I was home.

I belonged.

Maybe I was subconsciously reaching out to myself and saying it was ok to be here, and that I had nothing more to prove to anyone, especially myself. Or, it could have been the fresh air with a pinch of nostalgia.

Whatever I was feeling, I gave myself an internal nod and walked on. Knowing that if I needed somewhere to scatter my thoughts I could always count on home.

With experience comes confidence. With confidence comes the self-awareness to realise you are enough.

You always have been.