Recently, I’ve been thinking—almost fantasizing—about moving out of the country I currently live in and to my birth country.  (For some small backstory, I have dual citizenship, one in my birth country and the other in the country I currently live in.)  In multiple ways, it feels like I want a fresh start—a new beginning—and in different ways, I want a clean slate.

In psychology, some people believe you are born with a blank slate.  The term tabula rasa, which translates to “blank slate,” has been around longer than I’ve been alive, and my psychology professors have talked about tabula rasa in classes and said, “It’s too large of a topic to truly delve deep into it.”  They would encourage us to do our own research and form our own opinions, especially since many of us weren’t 25 years old.

In therapy, the term ‘tabula rasa’ “[…] refers to either the idea that we are solely the product of our upbringing and experiences or to the technique therapists use when they […] become “blank” and allow the recipient to project their own needs, desires, and beliefs onto them” (Very Well Mind).

Tabula rasa, according to Very Well Mind, has two definitions.  One meaning of the words is “[…] the belief that all humans are born with the ability to become […] anything or anyone. This belief downplays the effects of genetics and biology on the development of the human personality” (Very Well Mind).  Meanwhile, the second meaning of tabula rasa is when some therapists are careful not to reveal any personal information about themselves, which was heavily used in psychoanalysis and is still used today (Very Well Mind).

My desire to move is like my tabula rasa.  Though it’s not a perfect example, I connect to those words in this context.

After living in this country for most of my life, I deserve that fresh, blank slate.  I also want something new in my life, and I think moving to a different location would be the “something new” I’m looking for.

It feels like nothing is truly keeping me here after finishing my education.  I completed my education eight and a half months ago, though it feels like it was just yesterday I had my convocation ceremony.

When I got my bachelor’s degree in the mail, I squealed and jumped up and down as I stared at the papers and thought I’d made it.  It felt like I was secure in my career.  It also felt like I had my life planned out.  I knew I wanted to be self-employed as a full-time writer and entrepreneur. I also had a sense of freedom.  Since I knew I was going to work for myself, I knew I had the freedom to do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, though I knew that would happen few and far between because of the type of person I was (and still am).  (I’ve been told I have “workaholic tendencies.”)

I dreamed of what I could do with my life and where I could go.  Sometimes, I still dream about what I could do and where to take my business, and many times, I do that when I’m trying to sleep.  It’s a fun fantasy I have that almost always puts me to sleep, happy and full of life and child-like wonder.  I also dream of starting over, which I think is something I need right now.  Yet, I’m afraid of missing the few people in my life and their milestones.  I’m scared of missing home and the handful of positive memories I have here.  However, I don’t want those fears to prevent or stop me from doing something I desire, which, in this case, is moving.

When it comes to moving, if I were to move to a different country (which would be my birth country), I’d have more of a community, which I feel like I don’t particularly have at this moment, and it feels like I haven’t had since I was a child.  (The lack of community contributes to my desire to move.)

Another factor I think goes into how I feel like I don’t have much of a community—or at the very least is part of a similar topic—is how I feel isolated and alone.  Though I have a few friends and my immediate family with me, I have difficulty connecting with people around my age in my area.  Additionally, with the friends I have, it feels as if, since graduating from university, they are drifting away from me despite my efforts.  At this point, I do not want to continue putting energy into my friendships if it feels like they do not want—or value—our friendship.  However, the topic of friendship is a different conversation for a different day.

I’m afraid of regretting my decision to move when I do move.

I visited the area I want to move to (my birth country) a handful of times.  However, living in the area and vacationing there are two different experiences.  I’m also afraid I’m seeing my birth country as “the grass is greener on the other side,” and I don’t particularly enjoy that feeling.  Yet, I won’t fully know the experience of living there until I live there again. (Since my parents and I moved when I was four years old, I do not remember living there.)

Despite having more to say in this essay, writing this essay has brought me back to secondary school and university, when I regularly had to write essays.

It brings me back to when teachers forced students and me to write an essay.  Though I haven’t written any essays since I graduated, writing this essay has inspired me to continue writing in this genre.  I have more I want to speak on, and those topics would not fit in the poetry or fiction genres.

Since we are on the topic of writing and inspiration, I have also been inspired—though this inspiration came earlier than the desire to write more essays—to write a short story collection relating to my place of birth.

I have been reading a short story collection where the focus is on the author’s birthplace.  Additionally, I searched to see if the author has published more work since this collection, and I found she has recently published a collection of essays.

The short story collection, the book of essays, and, from what I’ve seen, the rest of her published works have been about where she was born, which contributes to me wanting to write about my birthplace. However, if I were to write a collection about my place of birth, I most likely would not write it “soon” (as in the next year) since I am editing a short story collection.  I am also writing the first draft of another short story collection and am in the early planning stages of another collection.  I’m prioritizing those three collections before working on a “shiny new idea.”

As I reach the end of this piece, I have found myself enjoying the writing process of an essay much more than I initially thought I would.  I have also found that writing this piece has been freeing.  It’s as if I could talk about the topics I am passionate about without the constraints of writing short stories or poetry.  Don’t get mistaken, though.  There are constraints in an essay, though some of them are different from those in poetry and short stories.  Also, in some ways, it is as if I have restricted myself to what I could talk about when exclusively writing short stories and poetry.

In the future, I hope to write—and subsequently publish—more essays such as this, and I hope you join me in the journey.