So, it's been a while since I've done one of these, but I think now is the best time. October sees me in a new city, with a new job, in a new house and with new people. I suppose the only constant is my boyfriend, who I now happen to live in the same city with. It's been an adjustment. I'm not going to say that it's all been wonderful and sugar-coated, because it hasn't. It's one of the hardest things I've ever done.
University was different - yes I knew no one, but I went with an inexperienced mindset and grew; this is one of the benefits of multicultural universities - the influences you receive are nothing like you'd ever think. It was a great time, but it was nothing like now.
Now i'm an 'adult'. The very word seems ridiculous as I still feel like I'm 16 and I need my mum to encourage me through life. I've always been a little bit independent, but a homebody at the same time. When I was 16 I had friends who were wonderful, but I lost my way a bit (for reasons that are a bit difficult to talk about) and it seems by the time I found myself again, it was too late, as everyone was spreading themselves across the country for university. So, seemingly friendless, I left and did my own thing. Awkward and naive, two brilliant (eye roll) traits when put together. I was too trusting and changeable, which led me to being taken advantage of by friends and people who are definitely not friends. I always put it down, when I look back, as a learning experience. I learnt from it and grew as a person, my skin metaphorically thickening. University was a series of events that I wish I hadn't gone through, whilst also being glad they happened as they helped to shape me as a person.
Burgeoning friendships that turned into one of the best friendships of my life, that only went on to end once I stopped putting the effort in. Funny how that happens... when I stopped texting, Facebooking and sending letters... the entire friendship stopped. Eventual unfriending happened on Facebook, and I was distraught to find this out one day. No words, no note. Just 'Send a friend request to..'. Five years of friendship over and not an invite to a wedding that we had always talked about over vodka mixers in her small kitchen in third year of Uni. They weren't engaged then, but I always knew it would happen. The end of that friendship mirrored the end of my previous relationship somewhat. That relationship - it was simultaneously wonderful and horrific. It's not something I'd change fully... but there are times that I wonder.... what would have happened if I had just said no after we broke up, and the option of getting back together had presented itself. I said no a year later... a year wasted in my opinion... what would have happened if I said no the first time?
These are the things I tend to think about when I analyse my life, and where I am. It's happened quite a lot in the past three months, as that was roughly when I moved, started a new job and bid farewell to my parents as they started their travel around Europe. That was around the time that I last cried. take it from me, I used to cry at least once a month... usually around my period, because ..emotions. Trust me, there have been ample opportunities to break down in tears. I'm actually a little bit proud that I haven't done it in work or in my rented accommodation. The last time I actually cried, was when I read a letter that my dad wrote to me the day before my new job was going to start. Technically I cried when I left my parents house, and I cried when I read the letter...but both happened within about two hours of each other, so I'm counting them as one emotional moment overall. I know I lived away when I was in Uni, but moving away this time was different. It felt like it was the end, and yet the start as well. No more working in retail and coasting through life, month to month. This was entirely different, and I had to be an 'adult' and actually take care of myself. It's terrifying and elating all at once.
The first few weeks I felt really alone. With my best friends an hour away, my parents in Europe and one horrible housemate making me feel like I never wanted to leave my room, the only solace I had was in my boyfriend. I always thought that I could rely on him, but I never wanted to be a burden, because he had his own problems and cares to worry about, so I'd lie and tell him I was fine.
I'd lie a lot and say that all was good, fine and okay... I'd keep repeating them in the hope that they'd be real and that I would be okay/good/fine. I kept smiling and being positive, but there comes a point when not talking about anything or lying constantly about how I felt was making me unwell. I was tired, anxious and in pain. The pain in my shoulder and arm were getting worse, my anxiety was really starting to cripple me and I was so tired that all I wanted to do was sleep. Coffee and food became a brilliant staple to rely on, and I suppose from the outside it made me look normal. Oh, she's eating... she's fine. Oh, she just wants another coffee, she's good! I wasn't. And I didn't really talk about it.
My boyfriend knows now. My friends know now. My parents ...kinda know. I never want to worry them, or have them be upset about how I am. What they don't know, won't affect them.
My anxiety and my not willing to talk to anyone about how I felt gave me headaches, severe stomach cramps and basically made me feel like I was only half a person. I can look back and say, oh it wasn't that bad when someone asks me, but that's just me doing the whole I'm 'fine/good/okay' thing again. I wasn't okay, fine or good... but I never talked about it, not even with the people that love me, and that I love the most. But that just really stems from be not being a person that talks about anything. I'm much more of a listener than a talker. I suppose that's why I felt like I had to come back to blogging. It's an outlet for my creativity and my feelings, so when I don't want to talk, I can just write. So I expect that Bex Howells will be so much more than makeup and skincare; I want it to be relatable and personal.
These are the things I tend to think about when I analyse my life, and where I am. It's happened quite a lot in the past three months, as that was roughly when I moved, started a new job and bid farewell to my parents as they started their travel around Europe. That was around the time that I last cried. take it from me, I used to cry at least once a month... usually around my period, because ..emotions. Trust me, there have been ample opportunities to break down in tears. I'm actually a little bit proud that I haven't done it in work or in my rented accommodation. The last time I actually cried, was when I read a letter that my dad wrote to me the day before my new job was going to start. Technically I cried when I left my parents house, and I cried when I read the letter...but both happened within about two hours of each other, so I'm counting them as one emotional moment overall. I know I lived away when I was in Uni, but moving away this time was different. It felt like it was the end, and yet the start as well. No more working in retail and coasting through life, month to month. This was entirely different, and I had to be an 'adult' and actually take care of myself. It's terrifying and elating all at once.
The first few weeks I felt really alone. With my best friends an hour away, my parents in Europe and one horrible housemate making me feel like I never wanted to leave my room, the only solace I had was in my boyfriend. I always thought that I could rely on him, but I never wanted to be a burden, because he had his own problems and cares to worry about, so I'd lie and tell him I was fine.
I'd lie a lot and say that all was good, fine and okay... I'd keep repeating them in the hope that they'd be real and that I would be okay/good/fine. I kept smiling and being positive, but there comes a point when not talking about anything or lying constantly about how I felt was making me unwell. I was tired, anxious and in pain. The pain in my shoulder and arm were getting worse, my anxiety was really starting to cripple me and I was so tired that all I wanted to do was sleep. Coffee and food became a brilliant staple to rely on, and I suppose from the outside it made me look normal. Oh, she's eating... she's fine. Oh, she just wants another coffee, she's good! I wasn't. And I didn't really talk about it.
My boyfriend knows now. My friends know now. My parents ...kinda know. I never want to worry them, or have them be upset about how I am. What they don't know, won't affect them.
My anxiety and my not willing to talk to anyone about how I felt gave me headaches, severe stomach cramps and basically made me feel like I was only half a person. I can look back and say, oh it wasn't that bad when someone asks me, but that's just me doing the whole I'm 'fine/good/okay' thing again. I wasn't okay, fine or good... but I never talked about it, not even with the people that love me, and that I love the most. But that just really stems from be not being a person that talks about anything. I'm much more of a listener than a talker. I suppose that's why I felt like I had to come back to blogging. It's an outlet for my creativity and my feelings, so when I don't want to talk, I can just write. So I expect that Bex Howells will be so much more than makeup and skincare; I want it to be relatable and personal.
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ReplyDeleteThis was a very touching and inspiring post. It takes a lot of courage to put such private emotions like this out on the Internet and I truly commend you for that! I was a member of the “I’m good/everything’s fine” crew for a long time too, but I’ve learnt to become better at communicating with my loved ones when things aren’t going well. I just wanted to send some positivity your way and let you know that you’re not alone; I feel like many of us have gone through similar situations in our twenties, but it will get better!
ReplyDeleteAgain, wonderful post :)
M. King xxx
http://www.itisakingthing.com/