Relocation, Relocation, Relocation

So it's been another hot minute since my last post where I said it had been a hot minute from the previous one. That's a lot of hot minutes. In the age of rampant climate change, no surprises there.

In reality, life has been kind of a lot. The last thing I've wanted to do after work was use what remaining brain space I had to write, even about something I love doing. Burnout is real, it's ugly and it's robbed me of quite a bit of joy. 

Fortunately, the September 2023 version of me recognised the tell-tale signs and took some steps to remove the toxic faction (my employer) from my life. And because I don't know how to do things by halves, instead of relocating in London, I decided to blow up my life, Paul's life, Frank's life and accept a job in Bangkok. Yep, Thailand. 

The journey from December to today, Tuesday 3 September 2024, has been mired with literal and metaphorical potholes. Degree certificates lost in the annals of the USPS; being ghosted by the Thai agricultural pet import office; Paul's toxic workplace dramas; packing, sifting, shipping, moving out of a flat we've lived in for the better part of 10 years. 

But ultimately, on the 7th of August, we trudged to Heathrow, boarded separate flights to BKK (Paul and Frank--in the cabin!--via Amsterdam with KLM) and me direct with Thai Airways. We all arrived the next day. We all got through customs. This is a far larger hurdle than words can describe.

Three weeks later, here we are. Emotionally bruised and battered, sweaty for sure, but ready for the adventures of life abroad once again. 

My basis for comparison is the move to China (ten years ago!) and I've been doing a lot of weighing up the challenges. 

• Some things are the same: delicious food; cheap foot massages; good cost of living; annoying proximity--anti-proximity?--to public transport. 
• Some things are easier here: the culture is outwardly very friendly; English is understood more widely; the politics are far less censorial; there's a swimming pool in my apartment!
• Some things are harder: Frank has mega separation anxiety and our network of Frank watchers is thousands of miles away; parks, public transport, most places are not dog friendly; the heat is real, persistent and clings to you constantly.

Perhaps the biggest difference is my brain. It's older, more fearful and painfully outwardly cautious. My imposter syndrome is real; I'm much more aware of the gremlins in my mind than I was last time. 

One takeaway in all of this however is that I'm so happy I blogged my time in China in detail. I was on my own for the first five months, I had time to write. As I read back on those early days, the wild mood swings and inner woes of my younger self have stood as reminders to be kind and compassionate to myself in this process of Life Abroad. 

So if you have somehow stumbled across this blog as a random stranger in the midst of a move across the city/country/world, may this too be your reminder that the early days are hard. They're also fun. And a complete cognitive overload. They mean going to the wrong dog park all the way across the city by accident; and being an extrovert when you're really not; and paying through the nose for a loaf of sourdough because you need hot buttery toast on a Saturday. The early day horror stories becomes the ones you love to tell one day. Be kind to yourself. 

Writing it out is permission to myself.