I’m impulsive. I always have been, and probably always will be. Growing up we moved around a lot, and so “home” was attached to a feeling, not a place. I’ve lived in multiple countries, states, provinces and cities, and as soon as I lose the feeling of home, I leave. Needless to say, this kind of behavior doesn’t bode too well in a relationship.
I have never quite felt settled in Whistler. I never slipped into the comfortable feeling of being “home.” I spent many restless nights and exhausted days trying to figure out what was missing in my life. I have an acceptable job that pays pretty well, a boyfriend who loves and takes care of me, and I live in arguably one of the most beautiful places in Canada. But something didn’t sit right.
So I did something impulsive. I applied for a job from an ad I saw on Facebook. I wrote an essay in 10 minutes at 5:45 AM and only did a quick spell check before hitting send. I made a desperate plea to the universe to change my situation, to help remove the dramatic grey cloud sitting over my life.
And the universe listened.
First the back and forth emails trying to nail down a time for my interview. Then mixing up Tuesday and Thursday and doing my interview in my pajamas. Then finding out on Valentine’s Day that I got the job.
My boyfriend was with me when I got the call offering me the job. He jumped up in down in the street with me. He held my hand while I called my mom. But in all of his excitement for me, I forgot to consider him. I wasn’t asking, I was telling. It wasn’t a conversation, it was a decision. And now it was his move.
Who knows where we’ll be in May. Possibly on two sides of the country. But I will always be impulsive. I will always be in search of better. I refuse to settle. And I hope that one day I will have a person, place, and a feeling that completely encompass “home.”