April Love - #3

This is my final letter in the April Love challenge.

Dear Sanctuary,

It's funny to have lived somewhere my whole life and still have an unshakeable yearning for some place else, a place that I haven't yet seen.  While I'm grateful for all that is unique to my island culture - spicy foods; quick, quirky local lingo that is sometimes more apt than regular English; and summer-all-year type weather - I've always felt that something was missing.  It's a hard to define yet clear puzzle piece that travel has not quite filled; rather, it's heightened my search for a safe place to drop the anchor.

In bigger cities and countries, there is an individual anonymity that comes with size.  Here, I often feel stifled by the small-town vibe, the common occurrence of knowing somebody who knows somebody whose aunt/neighbour/boss/friend is my xyz.  In some ways, I feel naked and vulnerable here, a feeling magnified by being different - wanting a life that's different from the majority's, and having a different way of processing the world around me - and not emotionally safe to be me. When I allow my thoughts to wander, I wind up mentally replaying a dream from my teens.  I had a huge desire to live somewhere remote yet with creature comforts in easy reach; lush and beautiful, rustic even.  I saw myself working from home, enveloped in the ease of a quiet life.  A favourite diner.  A familiar market.  It was the haven I craved from the 'noise' of typical every day life.  I didn't have the self awareness then to recognise my emotional needs for space and quiet time as clearly as I do now, but this image was always appealing to me, tiptoeing around the edges of my consciousness.

Drifting through these last few years has felt like I'm wandering a maze, still in search of this El Dorado.