A few summers ago I moved away from home. It’s not a crazy or troubling story by any means but it was a couple of months which displaced me from my comfort zone and ended up changing the way I make decisions.
It was the end of my second year of university. I’d spent months writing applications for internships and I was desperate to find anything which would save me from another summer of lifeguarding.
Amongst other leads, I had been put in touch with the Accountancy team at Devon County Council by a friend of mine at university. They were looking for a summer intern and I was getting very close to renewing my lifeguarding training, everything seemed like a perfect fit. Following a promising phone call with my would-be boss, I was being faced with the increasingly realistic future of moving to Devon.
I was hesitant at first. The job was outside of anywhere I’d ever lived before. I would be away from everyone. I imagined the length of the internship would be too short for me to settle and start enjoying myself, but long enough for me to miss out on a summer back with my friends.
However, faced with the alternative of lecturing people about showering before getting in the pool, I quickly set up a few room viewings for house-shares in Exeter and booked my train. I stayed in an Air-bnb on the first night and banked on signing a contract within 24 hours of alighting the train. I managed to agree a 2-month lease for a room 5 minutes away from my future office and a short walk from the city centre.
I’d mentally planned a few pastimes I could fall back on during the summer. I found a little bit of reassurance in that the worst-case scenario would be spending my free time watching films on Netflix. I unpacked my things and got looking for the Wifi. No Wifi. Once my housemates returned and I had introduced myself, they confirmed there was in fact… no Wifi. It would be me, Sheryl 37 y/o , Tasha 28 y/o and 2 GB of data for the next two months.
I was a little apprehensive about my housemates and expected our differences would limit the depth of our friendships. Putting that aside I started getting to know them. I had barely been there a couple of hours and I was already tired of the whole situation. I remember scrolling through the 8 weeks on my calendar app, unsure of what I’d do to fill my time.
As the days and weeks went by, I found filling my life easier and easier, I just said yes to any opportunity in front of me. I took a surfing trip to North Devon, and then spent a lot of time renting a wetsuit and surfboard. I’d explore the coasts of Devon and follow the coastal path round the cliffs near Dawlish. I ended up getting to know my housemates pretty well, and to this day still keep in touch with them. I felt a bit guilty for my initial prejudices, I found my concerns about age were completely unfounded. Although we were an odd trio, we ended up having a lot of fun together.
I wouldn’t say the 8 weeks flew by. When it came getting my train home, I was pretty ready to see everyone again. My friends had been discussing and planning events all summer, none of which I could go to. I found it all pretty frustrating and I was buzzing to finally get involved. Once I got back it was like I’d never left, everything was the same. My friends were still discussing the same topics and visiting the same pubs.
They asked a lot of questions about the summer and I think they enjoyed hearing about it. I realised that although the past few months had been a whirl and I’d missed a few events, the things I’d experienced on my time away had completely blown anything I would have gained at home out of the water.
It really made clear how much you can limit your life and your experiences by avoiding putting yourself in new potentially uncomfortable situations. I’ve thrown myself at similar situations ever since.
