I'm feeling very philosophical at the moment. Turning 25 in April really struck a chord with me and made me think a lot about my life, in particular about what makes me happy.
Right now, I'm the happiest I've been in a long time. I have created my dream career, I live in a wonderful house with lovely people and I have amazing friends scattered all over the planet. Thing is, I know I could be happier.
Call it the British mindset but to me, there always seems to be a case of one-upmanship when it comes to complaining. I'm so busy, I'm so stressed, I'm so tired. Why is it so common, expected even, to be pushing ourselves to the limit because of the idea of what happiness should look like? Was I happy with the 9-5 job I had earlier in the year? No. Even though I poured every second of my time into finding what I thought I needed, all I was really doing is fighting for a life more suited for other people.
After a month of relaxing on the savings front and treating myself a little, I'm back and ready to focus on saving for my next adventure. So far I have a one-way flight to Copenhagen booked to leave on January 5th and no current plans to return to the UK. Planning on settling in Paris (my favourite place in the entire world) I also start French lessons next week. Every time I leave England I wonder why I choose to come back afterwards. I'm not happy here and I haven't been for a long time. Thing is, thanks to the amazing career and life I've created for myself so far, I don't have to stay.
To put it simply, I'm done doing things simply because I think they're what I need to do. I don't need a permanent 9-5 job, a mortgage, a partner or a baby to validate my life, all I need is my passport and my skills and talents as a writer.
I'm so close to having the life of my dreams, now it's time to finish the journey.