In 2020, I thought a lot about the connection between physical and emotional places

Published on 9 December 2020

In 2020, I’ve begun to learn to love the place I’m in.

Initially, that meant the physical place I call my home. But recently, I’ve realised a lot of my love for that physical place comes down to being happy with the emotional place I’m in.

The seedlings of these thoughts have been slowly rooting for a while but they began to sprout and unfurl at the end of June, around the time we saw lockdown 1.0 ease in the UK. I went on a walk with a co-worker in our local park. Like me, she is an immigrant. We talked about our experiences of living here, and our discomfort with the current political climate. She has been here for much longer than me (21 years to my 3), and she has chosen to raise her children here.

She talked about some of the things she loved about England that influenced her move. The romance of Georgian estates. The understated beauty of English gardens. The proud history of the working class. The strength of unionisation that’s still felt so prominently in the north of England.

When she asked me what drew me to the UK my mind was blank. I’ve been thinking about it since.

I’ve moved to quite a few places in my 29 years – in fact, I’ve spent most of my life moving around. That’s partly because I am the child of divorced parents, and in adulthood I’ve been much more comfortable picking up and starting over, than settling down, making a home and being still.

But why, I wondered?

At 21, I moved to Copenhagen for a university exchange program, and returned a year later to do my masters degree. The people were laid back without being aloof and the city was stylish, swollen with great food. Cycling was central to the culture.

There was Ås, a tiny Norwegian town outside of Oslo, where I lived during an internship. It was like living in a postcard – all rolling fields, cute wooden cottages in blues and reds and yellows, and miles of forest-covered mountains – inhabited by trolls if you believe folklore.

Then after my masters there was Berlin. Berlin had so much attitude. It was rough, and in-your-face, but it was never ever not exciting. I felt the weight of history of the city pulsing through it every moment of every day.

Years later, I can reflect and reel off the special qualities of each of those places. But at the time, the attributes weren’t obvious to me. I was so used to being transient, moving through places, gathering experiences and all the while figuring out what would come next. Everywhere felt temporary because as soon as I got to a new place, I would wonder where my next opportunity was going to come from.

Appreciating things in the moment has not come naturally to me. 

But then I was offered a good opportunity in Manchester. I had never been before. I knew little about the city, and I moved here in the midst of Brexit – a political situation that made the UK far less appealing to me. But at the time I saw the move as just another stepping stone.  

It’s been three and a half years now. I’m still here. 

I’ve grabbed 3 career opportunities since then. I’ve built strong, supportive friendships. I’ve shared 2 flats in 2 different areas, and now I rent a house by myself in another bustling neighbourhood. I share it with 2 cats I’ve dreamt of owning ever since university. I walk. I run. I cycle. I explore. 

Emotionally, I’ve grown and I’ve progressed and I’ve moved forward. 

But physically, I’ve stayed in Manchester. It’s the place I’ve lived in the longest since childhood.

This year I realised that there’s a strong connection between the physical and emotional places I’m in. When I was less content with where I was in my life, I couldn’t wait to up sticks and find a new adventure. When I moved here, I didn’t feel there was anything exciting about Manchester – it wouldn’t even have been on my city break list – but for some odd reason, it is the place where everything has come together for me. I’ve got the confidence, work, friends, and financial security that mean emotionally, I am in a good place. 

So for now, I don’t feel stuck.
I’m not feeling flighty. 
I’m content.

For once in my life, I am happy to be still for a little while.