Walking around where I used to live and while I know my way around, it still feels unfamiliar. There’s a bike/skate park I don’t remember being there but is clearly years old. I found a series of paths I didn’t remember existing but when I was on them I had clearly been there before.
Strange how things are different from how you remember them. How things change.
Places don’t stay the same; neither do people. As alien as this place is to me now, where I grew up often feels stranger and I visit that more regularly. I’m not the same person I was when I lived here; I’ve grown, changed, gotten some real jobs and met a lot more people.
Where I am now is where I was when I was diagnosed with depression; when I managed to get strong enough painkillers to actually help my back pain. It’s where I started finding tools to help with my mental health and get to a better place in my life. I have some regrets about having to move out of here, really – it was a nice place to live even if the current flat has conveniences this one didn’t.
Life is change; change isn’t always good but it’s often progress.
Originally posted on Facebook
