If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live? Does this question fill your heart with fear or anticipation? Do you have one place you love, where you’d live forever? Are you already living that dream?

            As my brain whirl kicks in and I find it impossible to sleep I find myself pondering the big questions. The only place I’ve felt pulled to, literally, was a town in Scotland. That’s not entirely true, the whole country called to me in a way I’d never experienced before. The yearning to live there was as strong as the desire to protect my children from harm. If it was just me, and I could be entirely selfish, I’d give away all my belongings and grab a one-way ticket to the Scottish Highlands.

            As sleep continues to evade me, I’m torn and triggered. I’d love to live closer to my children, and my husband’s children. The seven of them are spread far and wide across this country and the world. It’s not practical to choose a town based on where they live. Their lives are their own and they’re free to live wherever they choose. I have this fantasy of family life that I’ll never fulfil in my current lifetime.

            As well as a high expectation of family, I have a romantic notion that I’d love to live in the town where I grew up. Would I like it though, if I lived there? Would it be too different to my memory of the place? There are pros and cons with moving there. It’s closer to some family, but further from others. There are friends living there, and family as well.

The one truth I know without a shadow of a doubt is that I could never live in the town where my kids grew up. I recently went back for a visit and there were too many ghosts, too many triggers and negative emotions. I’d visit to be with my daughter, but I’d have to live an hour away, where the memories weren’t so strong.

Can you feel the collective emotions of places? The echoes of past dramas, arguments, fights and pain? It’s horrific, and it doesn’t only occur in places of mass devastation. My ability to pick up on the past traumas of a space is growing as I age. Some towns have a stronger echo than others.

The town we live in isn’t too bad. It’s a good size small town with a transient population and long-time residents. There’s a balance, and an understanding of each other. I don’t feel the sense of desolation I find in other towns. Our house is solid, made well and would sell well in the future when we’re ready to downsize. I have a job that brings in money for food and bills. We are slowly making connections. There are many positives to our current situation. I’m not making light of that, as I lie here unable to sleep.

Never make any decisions in the middle of the night. Never change the course of our lives when sleep deprived. The takeaway for me, from this late-night pondering, is to stay where I am. The grass isn’t always greener. Moving is change and upheaval and wouldn’t necessarily be a solution to whatever is annoying me tonight.

I’d be better off working out what I want to do with the rest of my life. Work, garden, write, craft, travel and save for whatever our next adventures may be. I’d never paid attention to the term – triggers – until now. The sleepless hours spotlight my fears and regrets. Triggers are real, for each one of us. I’m tucking mine away in a secret drawer and moving on.

Life is a series of decisions, choices, regrets, questions, relationships, mistakes, successes, and change. I don’t have to live in the regrets. I can embrace the wins and work through the losses. I can give myself a second chance and hope those I love will too.

If sleep doesn’t come before the sun begins to rise, I could always read a book to pass the time. Or maybe write my blog.