A big new move ... again

I moved to Birmingham (England, not Alabama) three months ago.

I moved away from the town where I had friends and a routine. I moved away from a place I was finally starting to fit in. I had a local pub I loved to go to. I had people who knew my name when I walked in. I had friends who cared about me and checked in on me. People who cared about me.

And I left.

I was getting that itchy-feet feeling that I used to get while contracting in London. I was getting that feeling of potential being minimised. My identity was being solidified and was less likely to change. I could see the road ahead of me, and it was void of any bends or surprises. I didn't hate where I was by any means. I really enjoyed it.

In early 2020, I moved to the town of Didcot to live as a single man for the first time since I was 20-years-old. Lockdown happened just after I moved in, so that was something. But I met really great people. I met people who included me and made me feel welcome.

When I moved there, my identity had changed. I was discovering what the new me thought about things. I asked new questions of myself that I never asked before. As a single man, what did I want? Where did I want my life to go? Who am I when I'm not half of a whole?

The person I became in that town was different from the person I was where I came from. I mean this in a good way. I became more independent. I started to discover what I liked and didn't like. I dated. I tried new things. I travelled. I made friends that I was able to hang out with (it had been decades since I had done that). I moved from being a husband and a father (still a father, but they're grown) to being "just a guy". And when you shed some roles, you are left with a void that you fill with something new... and you don't always know what that's going to be.

Most people couldn't understand why I left. And I didn't know how to explain it. I just felt it was time for a new chapter. I was fleeing anything or necessarily moving towards anything. I was just moving.

Over the years, I discovered that I like travelling alone. Strange, right? If you've done it, you know how you can go through some lonely periods of walking through a city and feeling like you're just loitering. You wander into coffee shops with a book or into a bar and sit on a stool and wonder why you didn't bring anyone with you. But then you have the wonderful feeling that no one knows who you are. Your entire identity in this new environment is contained entirely in your head and no one else's. You can be whoever you want to be. With a travel companion, you bring a mirror that reflects back to you who you are and will readily point out when you step out of character. As a solo traveller, you are free. You can be whoever you want to be.

I used to change jobs every few years. It was similar. No one could understand why I was moving on. Was it more money? Was there more opportunity? Did you hate it here? Was it us? No. I just need a change.

And every change starts out murky. You never know if you made a mistake. You left the comfort for something new. And the "new" may not be as good. And you spend months learning who the new you is.

I think a lot about identity. Growing up, we moved around a lot. Always a new school. Always sitting alone at a lunch table. Always trying to fit in, but never felt like I was. Always the outsider. Not in that cool "rebel" way, either. But in that shy awkward way. I so envied those kids who knew what group they belonged to and knew exactly who they were. I hated moving. I hated feeling there was something wrong with me because I never fit in. I wish I was one of those people who could walk up to a group of people and just join a conversation. I never was. I still am not.

Now, I see it differently.

The silver lining of being a shy introvert (even if no one sees you that way anymore) is that you know you can change who you are by changing your environment.

I'm in the early lonely stages... but that's normal. Let's see how this goes.

And, so far, I love Birmingham.