The last few days, catching up with mum and dad, Holly, I’ve been thinking.
What was the actual point of going to Sicily again, just six months after we left?
Is it hypomania?
And just before, while in the toilet (where many important observations are made), I realised that the trip was about just that. It was about using Google maps knowing that it would take us down many bumpy, dusty (and wrong) roads, and seeing it as an adventure instead.
The trip was about asking:
What could I be if there was a little less noise, a little more effort?
And I realised, I’m actually doing it already.
So, to the question of how would I change my life if I moved to a farmhouse in Sicily, I would say:
What’s wrong with the life I have already? What if I’m mostly happy with my input and my output? And I’m happy to be living it somewhere else for a while, maybe forever.
And if it’s not forever, that’s fine too.
I read so many self-improvement articles hoping that the next one will be the one that changes my life, that I actually stick to its suggestions.
But what if this flawed woman is the best version of me I’ll ever be? Then I wonder, should I be disappointed or relieved?