There are decisions you can explain with numbers. A better salary. Lower costs. More security. This isn't one of those.
I'm not leaving because Belgium gave me nothing. Quite the opposite. I was born here, my kids were born here, and almost everything I know is here.
But it kept nagging at me
Starting over somewhere else. Getting closer to a part of myself that's been in the background for too long. Not waiting until every condition is perfect, because they never will be.
Turkey isn't a romantic fix. I know it's going to be hard. Paperwork, work, distance, a new rhythm. I'm bringing myself along too.
I don't want to think, twenty years from now: wish I'd done it back then.
So I'm doing it. Not recklessly, but deliberately. With doubt, with plans that aren't finished yet, and a lot of questions I don't have the answer to.
Maybe that's the whole point. A life doesn't have to be fully predictable to be the right life.