Places are so important to me. But it turns out people are too...
Today has been a mending sort of day, where London and I have tried to set aside some differences. I've always known my year off was to give me and my favourite city 'some space', you know, to take a break from each other. But as any person knows, if someone says this in a relationship, it's utter bullshit. It's actually a cowardly way of ending it. To be fair at least a city isn't going to throw your stuff out of the window, or post nasty things about you on social media... So even though I've experienced tears of horror, and utter culture shock about being back in this great metropolis, there have been some watery smiles of remembrance.
I class the day I mentally 'moved' to London as the day on which I had my first successful job interview. In mid September 1995, I found myself in Moorgate, the heart of City of London, terrified and elated at the same time. And on the brink of the longest relationship of my life. It's been a love affair which has transcended many others, and for twenty years I've been proud to call myself a Londoner. Even when I was away this year, I often had a yearning for the variety and atmosphere which would regularly carry me home joyously when I was truly emotionally, mentally, and physically exhausted. But as I sensed at the time I started seriously preparing for this trip, there was clearly something coming to an end between us.
This feeling has developed into certainty over the travelling during the past week. First of all there was a brief trip to Split to round up the rest of my Croatia belongings, and then an unavoidable trip to London where I have dealt with some essential finance and health matters. In each place there was an important reconnection with some very dear friends. Seeing the contrary one in London, and the kaotic one in Split leaves me in no doubt that the personal spirit is far more valuable than the cold heart of the cities. And how I felt when I arrived was nothing short of horror at being back.
I was strangely disengaged when I was planning my time here. The change in how I am is immediately evident because as dutifully scrolled through my favourite 'what's on' sites, I found myself overwhelmed and suffering a certain level of anxiety. I stopped looking because ultimately I just don't care. I've already had a quiet meltdown in the peaceful surroundings of the Limehouse flat because of the sheer mental strength required just to face the outside world - there had also been a minor incident at a train station which had shaken me, and given me the first taste of adrenaline in many months.
This was a shock. It served to remind me that I had been living on this drug for years, and related panic attacks were a regular part of life. These not normal, and neither should they be. As I've gone through the week and had the time to assimilate and observe the physical and mental changes, I'm succeeding in keeping my heart rate down, and ensuring my newly found calm-centre is generally anxiety knot-free. The peace has come at some cost, but I think ultimately it has been an incredible thing to capture, and I'll be damned if I lose it again. To continue the place-as-partner analogy, I'm happy to snuggle up quietly on the sofa with Šipan.