Sometimes you have to put your faith in the unknown. In recent months (and recent blog posts), I’ve been paralysed by indecision, miserable in limbo, torn in different directions by obligation and responsibilities, failing at feeling anything but despair.

My bestie, knowing I’d reached this crossroads in career, life and happiness suggested I visit ‘Spooky Lady’. A clairvoyant we’d seen in the past, with an uncanny perception of seeing these we normally can’t. Whether her gift comes from an exceptionally heightened personal insight or guided by spirits from the other side, she counsels and reassures in a way I can justify her fee and my time. This visit was as jumbled as my thoughts but one message came through loud and clear: you’re heading back to England.

Before I went to see Spooky Lady, I’d received a text from my sister: my brother-in-law’s scans showed the cancer he’d only gotten rid of 6 months before, had returned. That was 3 reasons to move back. Taken in isolation, Mum’s Alzheimer’s, squatters in my apartment – I could deal with from Aus. All three of these together, the universe was telling me something, and it was time I listened.

I didn’t want to believe it and spent most of the rest of the weekend drinking wine and talking through the options. Could I move back? The more I allowed myself the think about moving, the more it seemed inevitable and the obvious solution. I started to get excited.

I spoke to my sister via Skype and vocalised for the first time a thought that I should come back. Her excitement and pleasure were unexpected. It surprised me how much she wanted me to come back. For the first time in a long time, I felt wanted. We made promises of standing Sunday lunch invitations, trips with kids, holidays in Europe.  I feel a rush of how much I wanted to reconnect with family, to feel like I was something more than a good friend, a good boss, a successful, independent woman. I want to belong.

My time in Australia has been amazing, I’ve done and achieved so much. I look out from the balcony onto the canals at the crisp Autumn cloud-free blue and wonder how much I’m going to miss this when faced with dreary grey London skies. I smile through Elwood Village at the white, middle-class yummy mummies with the prams, babies and dogs and reflect how different life in Streatham will be when my white face will be the minority once more.

I will miss so much. But to stay would mean more of the same. And when the storyline becomes repetitive, it becomes bland. I think this chapter is coming to a close. Not a natural close, but it was always going to take something big (or 3 big things) to make me leave this place.

This reminds me of a scene from one of my favourite shows The West Wing:

So the decision is made, I’m heading back to the homeland. Timeframe: unknown. Let’s start planning Ausexit.

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