One of my absolute favourite things to do.
I’m another who grew up moving all the time (across 4 continents), though.
Most of the time? It helps tremendously. New weather. New air. New peoples/cultures (even in-country moves, people just do things differently in different regions). It’s enervating, and invigorating, and inspiring, and so damn easy to just be me.
There are also times where it doesn’t help at all, or makes things worse.
Right at the moment? I simply want to tie on my boots, and walk out the door, and never come back. Or lay down and die. One of the two. When I was younger, I’d have done exactly that. No preparation. Just decide and go. Stand up in a cafe and get on a train, walk out the door and get on the first plane, a dozen different variations of “I’m done.” and simply walking away with what was on me. Leaving everything/everyone behind me, without so much as a word. Mostly I got lucky. Always got lucky if one lowers the bar to “it didn’t kill me.” <<< Where I’m at right now in my head/heart… just walking away… is one of those that usually falls under “it doesn’t help at all / makes things worse”.
So it’s very much a double edged blade, for me. Something I’ve learned to do very intentionally rather than reactively. I’m reactive as f*ck, at the moment. So leaving isn’t the smart choice. In a few months with resources set aside, plans made/carried out? That’s a wholly different thing.
Part of why I am so reactive right now is that I should have already left here twice. Once, “because Covid”, f*cked those plans all to hell. And 3 months ago, getting sick/injured pushed the timeline back.
I hate this place. I AM getting the f*ck up outta here. As soon as I can do it smart.