There was a time in my life where I was afraid to go back home.

Not just my hometown. Toronto, even. I was in Vancouver -- I imagined where I would live after this, and when I thought about going back to Toronto, it felt like I was dying. That in some spiritual sense, I would not be alive anymore. Returning was bad. I couldn't return.

There was a time in my life where everything I did had to correspond to a story about myself. If I moved somewhere, or did something, I would ask myself: did this sound like something I would do, in the made-up story of myself? If it did, I could do it. Things had an aesthetic, one that could correspond with the story of who I was and where I was going. Going to San Francisco? Made sense, in a way. "Seems like something I would do." Halifax, Nova Scotia? Less so; it felt like I was retiring, slowing down. What kind of company could I work for? Red Hat? Definitely not, that would be so corporate. Elusive startup with an elusive premise? I mean, sure, it seemed cool enough. 

All was in concord. None of it was about my needs or my happiness. It was about this stupid idea of what I was.

I feel like I've eliminated a lot of this. I feel like I could move back to Toronto, for one thing. But when I'm not in a state of "seek security, seek maximum safety," I am constantly inconstant. I am always on the move. I am always trying new things, changing up habits, getting into a new hobby, reading a new book, going to a new place.

But if I were to consider, say, buying a mortgage, settling in one location ... again, it feels like I'm dying. Shouldn't this seem like a warning sign about something psychologically tangled, still lying in wait?

This year I've gone to New York a few times. San Francisco once. It was all business. But on a personal basis, I also am going to Minneapolis for sure; I thought I could swing by Amsterdam; or hey, why not Tallinn, Estonia? I have felt like I should go to Osaka for a few months now, so that's a tentative plan. Suddenly all this makes me think: why not live in Estonia for a while? Why not spend 3 months in Osaka? Why not 6? Let's try some places out.

I feel like it was a breakthrough with my GPT therapist when I realised I didn't have to commit to places as indefinite, permanent homes. But now everything feels like a temporary sprint in waiting. Becoming cosmopolitan feels like the most natural thing in the world because when I am moving, I feel alive, and when I am not, I feel scared and small.

I have to be honest. It's this that ultimately made me wary about Omaha. Nice place. Great place to pay low rent and do nerdy stuff. But I felt like I was dying. Why was that? Or, hey, I was on the train today and passed Saint-Jean-sur-Richlieu, QC; it was all single-family dwellings spread out, nothing taller than two stories, not even the businesses. It felt like a shanty town. I felt this fear in my heart picturing myself here for good.

Okay, well, two conversations come to mind:

- I caught up with an old friend. I remarked about work -- the state of affairs on the product, some banter about the interpersonal dynamics -- and concluded afterward that I had this fear that I was ultimately destined to be materially successful but alone. I kept making companies, I kept learning things, but it felt like I was never really happy. He said I was doing all the right things to ensure I would never actually form lasting relationships with other people--I would never actually be able to work on any art!  The reason I moved to Montreal to begin with!--if I dedicated myself to work, to scaling the company to hundreds of people, giving myself wholeheartedly to work once again and began moving away from settling in one location.
- At work we caught up with a professional colleague. He briefly mentioned that during Covid he stayed with his parents and the experience left a mark on him. He was suddenly aware of their age, of what they had done with their lives, of what they did now day to day, and he saw no point in saving money for anything. All we had was now, so he told me to take everything I had saved up and just spent it now. Don't prepare for the future. Just go all in.

On one level, I can't help but feel that I've always worn risk well. If I did not abandon everything and spent two years doing nothing but making games, I would not be a working professional now. I would be in tech support, or retail, and having a fine time but maybe a bit frustrated.[^1]

If I had just stayed in school and been a post-graduate instead of going into industry, I can tell you I would probably be in my PhD program now.

I have been rewarded fairly consistently for getting out of my comfort zone and going to new places, doing new things. So I feel this urge to continue to do so. At the same time, it's as though the idea of life's dividends being a steady 2-4% is scary and the idea of a massive volatility event is exciting and welcome. So I keep courting the volatility events, and in turn, it seems to come to define me as a person. I visit Osaka, and I love Osaka, and I dedicate myself to living in Osaka. Sounds like something she would do.

But what about the human being in there?

This is the fundamental curse of restlessness. This is the thing I share with so many people when I go to New York. They know so many things, keep tabs on so many things, do so many things, but if we talk about the past -- moving back to the folks, or whatever -- that would be the end of our lives. We are only here because we are notable, shiny, and therefore have found our surrogate for love.

And sometimes, if we are in a steady relationship, then something has to change. Safe relationships are practically unknown territory. Deeply turbulent ones are more normal and fit the story template better. 

The chaos of life has become our only friend; but it nevertheless feels hollow. The shapes and sounds of the rotating sensorium don't cohere into something that connects with the soul. I can't help but feel that if I could learn to kill the part of me that feels like it's dying while on stagnant land, I could kill that same part of me that won't let anyone close.

My progenitive confessor comes to mind but sadly not yet to heart:[^2]

> Great art Thou, O Lord, and greatly to be praised; great is Thy power, and of Thy wisdom there is no number. And man desires to praise Thee. He is but a tiny part of all that Thou hast created. He bears about him his mortality, the evidence of his sinfulness, and the evidence that Thou dost resist the proud: yet this tiny part of all that Thou hast created desires to praise Thee.
>
> Thou dost so excite him that to praise Thee is his joy. For Thou hast made us for Thyself and our hearts are restless till they rest in Thee.

May we all find our rest.

[1]: Even when I was working in retail I kept asking for more to do, for more responsibility, for more outreach, and I felt deeply frustrated when all that was expected of me was to stand by the till.
[2]: And narcissist? There are apparently a lot of people who think this. To be frank: everyone has been a narcissist at least since the 1960s.

=> https://core.ac.uk/download/pdf/55909819.pdf
=> https://www.pdcnet.org/augstudies/content/augstudies_2013_0044_0001_0059_0091?file_type=pdf
=> https://www.jstor.org/stable/26303960