This week I took another relatively unnecessary trip back home. Working double shifts multiple times a week has made full days off about as rare as a solar eclipse, and so instead of sitting about in my bedroom in Glasgow, I decided to go home and spend some time with my family. I had fun barbecuing for everyone (you can see some of my recipes for that here). I’m not going on holiday this year so when it hit 27 degrees in Northern Ireland of all places, well it was the perfect excuse for what will probably be my one beach day of the summer. Anyone from NI will know, a beach day is not complete without a trip to one of the Ramore restaurants for dinner and my favourite one, Neptune & Prawn, was as amazing as ever. This trip was largely spurred on by boredom, but mostly by stress. I was in desperate need of a little R&R because I’ve been spending every day working hard or getting organised for something quite big and exciting happening next week: I’m moving to London, and yes, it’s as spontaneous and random as it sounds.
Around this time three years ago, I was preparing for the biggest change of my humble 18 years of life; I was moving to Glasgow for university, and I was absolutely sh!t scared. I would admit this to myself, however, about as willingly as I’d admit to being bad with money, or to being a bit over sensitive at times, or to being more or less impossible to live with because I’m intolerably messy… i.e. I didn’t really admit it to myself at all. I’ve always been my own biggest fan, and my own biggest critic (someone said this to me recently and honestly, words have never rung truer). Yet when it comes to admitting what feels like a real weakness, such as being upset, lonely or scared, I tend to bottle it all up. If you just ignore it, maybe it will all go away, right? Unfortunately for me, that “bottle” of emotions is probably the size of one of those little spirit bottles that you pay €6 for on a flight to Spain; it fills up pretty quickly and I always end up a blubbering mess with my Mum on the other end of the phone. It’s been a very strange few months for me. Although I knew change was imminent, what with me moving out of my flat after two years, it still rattled me like a cold bucket of water being thrown over you mid-sleep. I went from living with my best friend to living alone, my friends a one hour train journey away, and from being in a relationship to being alone, and it all felt like it came out of nowhere and it was all a little too much at times (which, once again, I have seldom admitted to anyone least of all myself).
Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy and content with how everything’s worked out, but the “sudden change” aspect of it all is still incredibly triggering for me. During more trying times I tend to make rash decisions, like flying home for three days just because I’m off work and don’t want to read alone in a coffee shop the entire time- that kind of thing. I remember applying for internships in all sorts of places one night when I was in one of these erratic moods; Belfast, Manchester, you name it, I’m sure I even applied for some sort of marketing placement in India, if I’m honest. In the morning, I didn’t think another thing of it, until an email came through asking if I’d be available for a phone interview. Short story made even shorter: I ended up bagging myself some work experience in London, working with a PR company with some very exciting clients including Blood Brothers, Wonderland Magazine, GAY Times Magazine and everyone’s childhood crush- Dougie Poytner.
As it goes, for some reason every time things seem to be going “tits up”, everything falls perfectly into place shortly after. I think that’s the whole “everything happens for a reason” mantra in live action, isn’t it? A short while ago, I wrote a blog on my life plans basically diving head first out the window and how I was excited about “not knowing” what the future holds, and though I wrote it then, it’s only truly coming to light now. I’m pretty terrified to move somewhere new again, and this time I have no qualms in admitting it, because even though it’s only a few months, I’M going to be trying to navigate the big city alone, both figuratively and literally. This is the same girl who just today sat at the wrong gate at the airport for 15 minutes, completely oblivious to the fact that I was the only person sitting there, who begged the EasyJet staff to let me on the flight to the point that the girl had to put on a high vis jacket and run out to make sure the plane didn’t leave without me (side note: by EasyJet standards, this was exceptional customer service). The same girl who flew all the way to Ireland with a pair of shoes she was very excited to wear, just to realise I’d bought two left feet (only after I had already taken at least 7 pictures with them on). I guess “adulting” is still very much a work in progress. So it could all go horribly, and I could end up fired in a week, back in Glasgow, working double shifts and convincing myself that I “never really liked London, anyway”- but I’m going out there and I’m doing something for myself that may just help me do even more exciting things in the future, and beneath all the anxiety and stress and self-doubt, I’m pretty damn proud of myself. And hey, if nothing else, maybe I’ll get a few blog posts out of it.
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