You can’t run before you can walk…

And I want to dammit. I want to run and jump and leap like I normally would. Like I normally do. But before I can reenact my desire to make like the cheetah and run through the wild I’ve got to limp like a baby giraffe (whats with the animal simile’s?) I’ve got to find my new, long (I wish) legs by taking stumbly, clumsy little steps.

So that’s what I’m doing. As of this evening I have been in Dublin for 5 weeks. And I have taken some significant baby steps (I think).

I have moved out of my generous second family’s home and into a beautiful suburb called Rathmines in Dublin 6. I have my own room. I have unpacked my ridiculously heavy suitcase into my normal sized cupboard making it look ridiculously empty. I went on an awesome trip to Ikea to buy some bed linen, a wall unit, a plant and a candle – gross under exaggeration but my parents might be reading -to give the place a ‘homey’ feel. I printed out approximately 100 pictures of my friends, family and my unforgettable summer and have since plastered them all over my wall. I have a hot water bottle. Shaped like a reindeer.

I have booked a ticket back to the motherland for Christmas. I am migrating home for the winter, giving myself something to look forward to, to see my family. I have friends coming to visit me and my little home in Dublin. I have weekend trips to London planned.

I have found temporary work, the contract was for 2 weeks and they’ve asked me to stay until Christmas. I have joined the gym. I have a bank account. I have a mobile phone contract. I have a tax number. I have figured out which is the quickest way to work, what the difference between the Luas (the tram) and the Dart (the train) is and that the bus timetables were obviously designed by inept males that have never actually BEEN on a bus before. I know where the North Side is versus the South Side. I know where Grafton, O’Connell and Dame Street are. I can hang out in the Trinity College grounds if I want to.

And so 35 days in, these are the things I have to revel in. Not the sneaking sense of dissolution and loneliness that creeps in on a Friday night when you know you’re going home to your reindeer water bottle instead of getting drunk on $5 Vodka’s at the Slip Inn with your work mates who are just as glad its the weekend as you are. It’s knowing that these things take time. Reminding myself that my support network create a human shaped safety net that spans one side of the globe to the other.

It’s remembering that I am here because I love to run, that I have run before, that I will run again. But for now it’s knowing that I cannot run before I can walk.

I couldn't find one walking. But this guy is hella cute.

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