September 2013
[I won’t lie, this is a word-heavy, ranty, flow of consciousness post – feel free to tune out]
For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to write. And I’ve always been an independent career-orientated kinda girl. I wanted to move to London and live the high-life writing for some glossy magazine or a column in a great newspaper. An English Carrie Bradshaw, one might say. Marriage, kids and settling down could wait until later, as far as I was concerned my 20s were for living, working and partying.
Up to October last year, this was still very much my plan. I was free, single, living in London studying for my masters degree in Fashion and Lifestyle Journalism. I was living the dream. Funnily enough, my brain (and heart) soon decided I wasn’t.
It took me a while to realise I was ill. I wasn’t myself. I dropped out. I’ve never dropped out of anything in my entire life. It was humiliating. Or so it felt that way. I kinda felt like everyone knew I was making this big move to London, I’d got on a fantastic course.. and now I was pulling out of it. I’ve never really been too arsed about what people think, but this did bother me. I felt stupid, and like I’d let a lot of people down. Its not a brilliant line of thinking.
Months later (and many doctor’s prescriptions later), I’m back up north to my hometown and living with my parents. This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind for 22nd year on this planet.
I’m kinda directionless, no steady day job or routine. I’m doing my writing which is a plus. There’s lots of freelance work out there if you look for it.. that and the blogging are just about keeping me sane. But I need to be somewhere else. My hometown is home, but its not where I see myself living for the rest of my life.. I really need to get out of here. But its the balance of trying to feed my ambitions, whilst also making sure I’m fully fit and healthy to do so. I won’t go into mental health and anxiety in this post, as that’s another story – but safe to say, its so much more complexed than I’d ever imagined.
It doesn’t help that any medication I’ve taken in the past 12 months seems to have added a good stone onto my weight. Body confidence is not something I want to add to my list of self-depreciating faults.
I guess I feel like I haven’t even got one part of my life going for me. That sounds terribly moan-worthy. I’m very lucky to have a supportive family and some beauuuutiful friends, but being the only single one in my friendship group can take its toll. I won’t say I’m jealous.. but, well I am jealous. Not to state the utterly obvious, but being single is bloody lonely. No date nights or day trips. Its just me, my stupid worrying mind and I.. far too often. And I don’t want it to seem like I’m complaining too much – my singledom is, in part, much of my own making. My last serious relationship ended around 2 years ago, and there’s been people around since.. but I always find that I talk myself out of them. I pick faults very easily. In myself too. Don’t get me wrong, I’d love a boyfriend.. but until Oliver Sykes et al become available, I’ll probably leave it. Daydreamy celebrity crushes are always better.. that’s what my 15 year old self tells me anyhow.
I just don’t want to turn into Bridget Jones like a decade too early. Lacking in direction, in a job I enjoy, in a boyfriend.. and spending my nights sat in in my pyjamas with only a bottle of wine and a packet of fags for company. It makes a good film, but I don’t want that to be my life.. and its increasingly feeling like its turning out that way.
I recently wrote a short-term bucket-list of sorts in which I set out goals and achievements I’d like to get round to in these next couple of years. I think mixing the serious with the silly and enjoyable might just make me change my view on life for the better.
I have an Oscar Wilde quote tattooed on the inside of my right arm, it reads;
‘We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars’
Everyone goes through tough times and challenges, its all relative – but looking ahead and thinking positive really is the way to go. I think I just need to start believing it more.
Rant over, for now.
*Images from weheartit*
cattface.com 