Heimweh or Fernweh?
Wanderlust and why I just can’t seem to find where home is
[Photo courtesy of EBM Photography: thanks Emma!]
This week my neighbour has been calling round more often for help. She has onset of Alzheimer’s. I do my best to help where I can and love helping others but over this last year she is becoming more and more dependent on me to be home and this has triggered that angst of commitment that lurks deep down and hidden and consequently has stirred a few panicky feelings. I don’t tend to stick around in one place for too long. I’ve moved nine times in the last twelve years and I can see numerous more moves on the cards in front of me. Call me a nomad. Call me a commitment phobe. Call me what you will. But simply, I’m afraid of getting tied down to the wrong place, even the wrong person.
