I have polarising emotions about being back here. A large part of me feels that I have admitted defeat somehow. Like I couldn't make it out there in the big bad world on my own. Like I failed at being a grown up. (To be clear, it was my choice to move back and I was in no way forced to.) I guess the reason for these feelings is that society dictates that I should probably have my shit together by now. Well, fuck you society! I'm not a real person yet and nor do I want to be.
Another thing about moving "home" is that it doesn't really feel like home any more. Well, it feels like home, but not my home. I feel like a visitor here. My parents were more than happy for me to move back so I don't really know why I feel this way. I am incredibly grateful and lucky that I have somewhere to come back to whenever I want/need to. Maybe after I am settled in it will begin to feel like home again. Then, hopefully, I will be able shake this awful feeling that I am encroaching on my poor parents' lives.
Maybe if I actually got around to unpacking my shit instead of stepping over and around boxes and bags I would feel better. I am terrible at unpacking once I have moved somewhere. I once moved into a flat and didn't finish unpacking for over a month. The problem is that I fucking hate moving. Which is ironic because if I stay in once place too long I begin to hate it. Just one of my many paradoxical traits that prevent me from ever being happy.
Anywho, the bottom line is that Phase #2 of operation 'Martin in Toronto' is now complete. Phase #2 being to move back to my hometown. Phase #1 was to quit my job and Phase #3 is to now find a new one. Phase #4 is to save money and then, finally, Phase #5 is GET THE FUCK TO TORONTO. So far I'm bang on schedule.