I don't really know how to begin this. I am in a place where I am completely unfulfilled, where I am terribly unhappy with my living situation, and where I feel a constant ache for the dreams I have held all of my life. I am lonely, overweight, and unable to make simple decisions. My oldest son has special needs, my youngest is... well, three. 
I always dreamed of two things. Writing and travelling. When I started dating my husband, eleven years ago, I was just applying to different schools all over the world to teach, as I had just completed a course to enable me to teach English as a second language. I chose him, and though he would have waited, I decided to move straight in with him and begin a life. I was nineteen.
I signed up for school soon after, and initially went in to become an English teacher. One year in, and I began to take detours through the art building, wanting desperately to be there. I had a lot of talent, but my parents told me to take an art program that would make me some money for a career. I decided to sign up for Graphic Design. I got into the highly competitive program, and hated it from the beginning. It was an intense program where we basically lived and breathed design. At the end of the first year, they cut four or five people. It was another test, another huge honour to make it into year two, and I made the cut. But I stopped working hard. I started completely procrastinating, made some classmates (understandably!) extremely angry. I wasn't working hard at all. I hated every second of the program, but didn't see a way out. Right after year one, I got pregnant.
Relieved to be out of the program, I was thrilled with my pregnancy. I was 22 and felt like I was completely ready to be a mother, that my partner would make a wonderful dad, and that this was exactly what I wanted. And it was. I was ready to be a mother, and my son changed me in ways that were amazing. The first few years were bliss, for me. We were very poor, but we had some amazing support from family and friends, and were married at 24. Our wedding was wonderful, and we soon moved off our island to the mainland, where my husband started a new, fantastic career. We had a second son, and as happy as I was with my two boys, I started to feel like something was lacking.
My oldest has had a lot of people working with him over the last five years, and I have been taking him all over for assessments, special needs school, therapy and advocating hard for him all this time. He is still without a diagnosis, but we are just exhausted. I home school, try to get things done around my home, lack friendships partially because it is so difficult for my son to be around other people, and I am living in downtown in a city, which is my idea of hell. We're in an apartment that is too small for us, I feel unsafe much of the time, and I am utterly miserable.
My house is falling apart; not only is it too small for us, but I have zero will to clean anymore. This city is so expensive that even though my husband has a great wage, we are considered below the poverty line and are in social housing. I have applied to some new housing places, but the wait-times are over two years long. My husband's job only exists in big cities, so we can't move to a lower COL area.
I recently found out that my husband's job is in pretty high demand. And that he could quite easily get a job in the UK for a very nice wage, allowing us to live comfortably over there. (I know the COL is high, but his wage would be enough.) I could get dual citizenship, and in fact have many relatives still over there who are dying to meet me. I feel like this is a huge sign for me. I am first generation Canadian, and I have ached to go to England to see where my family is from.
Would it be really stupid of me to pursue this? My husband is totally willing, and he is excited about the prospect too, but am I just running away? I picture myself living in a little rental house, near to my cousins, in their little village or one like theirs, and writing. And having community, and basically feeling a lot more free. I think I am totally romanticizing this, but what happens if this is a big sign, and I miss it?
I want to clarify we would only be there for a few years, and always leave ourselves with the option to come back if we hated it. My husband's job would also help to pay for him to transfer. Am I being selfish?

I always dreamed of two things. Writing and travelling. When I started dating my husband, eleven years ago, I was just applying to different schools all over the world to teach, as I had just completed a course to enable me to teach English as a second language. I chose him, and though he would have waited, I decided to move straight in with him and begin a life. I was nineteen.
I signed up for school soon after, and initially went in to become an English teacher. One year in, and I began to take detours through the art building, wanting desperately to be there. I had a lot of talent, but my parents told me to take an art program that would make me some money for a career. I decided to sign up for Graphic Design. I got into the highly competitive program, and hated it from the beginning. It was an intense program where we basically lived and breathed design. At the end of the first year, they cut four or five people. It was another test, another huge honour to make it into year two, and I made the cut. But I stopped working hard. I started completely procrastinating, made some classmates (understandably!) extremely angry. I wasn't working hard at all. I hated every second of the program, but didn't see a way out. Right after year one, I got pregnant.
Relieved to be out of the program, I was thrilled with my pregnancy. I was 22 and felt like I was completely ready to be a mother, that my partner would make a wonderful dad, and that this was exactly what I wanted. And it was. I was ready to be a mother, and my son changed me in ways that were amazing. The first few years were bliss, for me. We were very poor, but we had some amazing support from family and friends, and were married at 24. Our wedding was wonderful, and we soon moved off our island to the mainland, where my husband started a new, fantastic career. We had a second son, and as happy as I was with my two boys, I started to feel like something was lacking.
My oldest has had a lot of people working with him over the last five years, and I have been taking him all over for assessments, special needs school, therapy and advocating hard for him all this time. He is still without a diagnosis, but we are just exhausted. I home school, try to get things done around my home, lack friendships partially because it is so difficult for my son to be around other people, and I am living in downtown in a city, which is my idea of hell. We're in an apartment that is too small for us, I feel unsafe much of the time, and I am utterly miserable.
My house is falling apart; not only is it too small for us, but I have zero will to clean anymore. This city is so expensive that even though my husband has a great wage, we are considered below the poverty line and are in social housing. I have applied to some new housing places, but the wait-times are over two years long. My husband's job only exists in big cities, so we can't move to a lower COL area.
I recently found out that my husband's job is in pretty high demand. And that he could quite easily get a job in the UK for a very nice wage, allowing us to live comfortably over there. (I know the COL is high, but his wage would be enough.) I could get dual citizenship, and in fact have many relatives still over there who are dying to meet me. I feel like this is a huge sign for me. I am first generation Canadian, and I have ached to go to England to see where my family is from.
Would it be really stupid of me to pursue this? My husband is totally willing, and he is excited about the prospect too, but am I just running away? I picture myself living in a little rental house, near to my cousins, in their little village or one like theirs, and writing. And having community, and basically feeling a lot more free. I think I am totally romanticizing this, but what happens if this is a big sign, and I miss it?
I want to clarify we would only be there for a few years, and always leave ourselves with the option to come back if we hated it. My husband's job would also help to pay for him to transfer. Am I being selfish?






:







