This will not be long; I felt I had to write down something.

It has been almost seven years since I moved to the UK. A magical number, a big number, basically a quarter of my life.

Those years have been the most transformative and rough period ever, if I can say so myself (well, no one else can assess that).

During my first two-three years here, I constantly travelled between Hertfordshire/London and Poznan, where my ex-partner lived.

I liked having no roots, no home, and being intangible. I basically lived for my work and my relationship, which I believed was enough for me.

Well, I found out later that it wasn’t, and since then, I learnt that despite what society might tell you, neither your job nor love can be the only/main foundations of your life.

I neglected to build myself, care for my physical and mental health and focus on my passions and other relationships.

After that time, my relationship began crumbling, and I left London to take another job.

Then the pandemic started, and shortly before that, probably in preparation, all the hell unleashed.

In July 2019, I lost my beloved brother, which changed my family, life, and health forever.

There hasn’t been a day in the last four years where I wouldn’t have missed him. Growing up, we were like one person in two bodies. I know I have major brother issues, and I have been looking for a brother replacement in various male friends ever since.

There were many days and even more nights when it felt unreal.

I believed that somewhere in Poland, he still lived, and nothing had changed.

Half a year later, I lost my father in February 2020. He was very ill when he passed away.

One more thing that I learnt the hard way, thanks to that, was that death is not the worst thing that can happen to you.

Either directly or indirectly.

There are way worse things, such as moral or mental decay. Such as betraying yourself. Such as ruining everything around you. Such as shielding your heart and treating people like things.

So then the pandemic started, and I went through a health crisis (probably due to stress, who would have guessed). It was my first real health scare.

While writing this, I am experiencing really bad neck and upper back pain, which all started back then. I have had days in the last month where I was miserable and couldn’t move or dance.

But it can’t even compare to how I felt in April-May 2020.

The pain and stiffness come and go and always keep me on my toes. I will probably have to back down on dancing in the next few months, but still, I can’t help but count my blessings.

My symptoms were so debilitating three years ago that my neurologist was 70% sure (his estimation) I had multiple sclerosis, just like my late father.

I still remember the day I was waiting for my diagnosis, and I already had the MRI scans of my brain.

I was on a Skype call with my ex (a doctor), and we were going together through one brain picture after another, trying to see the shade that would potentially mean a life full of pain for me.

A life of disability.

I remember thinking that if it hadn’t been my brain and hadn’t I been so terrified, it would have been quite fascinating.

~

There was no shade. It was just a neck injury, stress, and anxiety.

I felt like I was given another chance in life. Since then, I worry less about anything. Almost anything is laughable when you compare it to multiple sclerosis.

A few months later, I ended my dead relationship (well, for the first time, not the last time) and realised that my life would never be the same.

And I was right. That was the end of 2020.

Since then, I have had multiple short relationships (including around eight months when I lived again with my ex – no regrets there, I had to give it the one last chance before it blew up in my face spectacularly – because he was the only man who I can say I loved; however, now I know that going back to what is comfortable and predictable out of fear is never a good idea long term), a new job, new hobbies, new friends, new delights, new sorrows.

After these seven years, I feel like I have lived multiple lives in the UK, and maybe a few too many. Maybe it was too much.

Maybe I was too much sometimes to myself or others, struggling to find what was best for me.

I know what it is now. Peace and healing. And being true to myself. And avoiding the people and situations that don’t help me with that.

I have been doing a real amazing progress with that in the last few months, and I am a much happier person every week. With a stiff neck, but still.

For all of the above reasons, I am slowly considering starting anew. I feel like I might have used all the opportunities that this country had to offer me.

I like it here, but mainly for career reasons. I love working in medical affairs. I also like my flat, and I like dancing. There are amazing people here that I probably don’t realise how much I would miss.

But I never felt strong ties with this country, and I know I will never become even slightly British.

I still have my work, which is the main thing keeping me here. I will see what is next.

Great Britain is a good country that I wish all the best, but I miss continental Europe, and I think I could push myself to see what is out there for me.

I feel like here; I might be too comfortable and stuck in my ways.

Without shaking it up, I will keep seeing myself reflected in the eyes of the same people.

I’ll be honest – I am low-key waiting for a sign telling me that maybe I could keep building my life in London.

But as much as I’m having a nice time here and a lot of fun all the time, I don’t feel like my soul is being nourished by anything substantial.

(Or maybe I’m just tired and finally need a proper holiday. Or maybe it’s my damn neck.)

In one of my older posts, I mentioned that travelling doesn’t make you a better person.

I still believe in that. However, changing your environment can change your psyche; maybe this is what I need now.

~

The Road Not Taken 

BY ROBERT FROST

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

PS. I guess I’m gonna go and look for a sign.

PS2. I told my landlord that I am not extending my contract for my apartment, so from September I am either homeless or moving somewhere.