Soggy Heart

On a nondescript Wednesday night, I got dumped. Or, I dumped him because I got sick of waiting for him to do it. Brave and a little foolhardy, and I’m utterly miserable. Bereft. Devastated. Thursday passed in a blur of ill-timed and unstoppable tears. On Facebook, a friend who had recently re-located to India had a status update about his recent move, and I dropped a comment, ‘got a job for me?’ Friday was filled with much gnashing of teeth and wailing. Until my friend, Tim, contacted me.

I wont bore you with the details of that chat, but I was offered a job. In Bengaluru (or Bangalore, if you will). The thoughts that rolled through my head were predictably rather erratic. When I sat down and thought about it, what did I actually have here in Christchurch? My job was becoming increasingly difficult and less enjoyable. My ex-husband hadn’t paid out my half of our house, and so I was flatting, unable to buy a house, stuck with the weight of legal action over my life. My boyfriend didn't want me and I was miserable. I had family and friends here, but they have their own lives, children, houses. Then I thought about what I’d have to do in order to leave, and the list was surprisingly small.

I love Christchurch. I love the hills. They are beautiful, and calm, and provide great peace in my life. I have many wonderful friends and family here. I know there are opportunities here, but I craved travel, adventure. I wanted to be able to explore a new country, a new culture, new food. To find the beauty in small things, the joy of wonderful people in strange places.

Saturday. I pondered and rolled ideas around in my head. A phone call from India set a chain of events in place that culminated in me writing a list of things I would have to deal with before I left. Insurance, phone, and dealing with my car and a few possessions. I called my boss and told him he would have my resignation that week.

Then I sat there, terrified. My life! What is up with that? I’m moving to India!