I’m kind of disappointed in myself for this post, simply because it doesn’t fit in. I have my annual end of year letter sat in my drafts. It ends so hopefully and yet this might shatter it all to pieces. That’s not to say what I wrote was a lie. I use my social media to share things about my life, perhaps even overshare with all those icky feelings thrown in there. But I don’t mould it to look like it’s something it’s not. Most of my instagram contains pictures of pretty places rather than my face looking unrealistically above average. But I still feel disappointed. Because my mentality keeps slipping.
I keep thinking how much worse I was this time last year, how this has to be some kind of wonderful improvement. Small steps towards better things. I’m starting to consider the fact I might have just settled, that being home has put a bullet through my wild heart. I’m sedated for the time being, but perhaps I’m starting to come round.
The thing is, I don’t mind being home so much anymore. I got a new job; I feel like I’m progressing somewhat. I haven’t grown complacent like I feared I would stuck behind the bars of retail. It’s dawning on me, though, that I have no idea how I’m meant to move forward. How do I move out? How do I shape my life the way I want it? I am caught in a vicious, frustrating circle that I can’t see beyond what is in front of me to believe it gets better.
So much of me wants to be strong and independent. Although I have always pictured those traditional elements for myself, like marriage and children, I wholeheartedly believe a woman doesn’t need those things to be fulfilled. I already find so much of that contentment in my writing and at the thought of being a successful, driven individual with a career. But, as things go, I am so hyper aware that relationships are integral to life. To quench that aching loneliness, yes, because here’s a fun fact: All my dearest best friends are in relationships. Meanwhile, I am single and relying wholeheartedly on my bonds with them as the single most important ones. After family, of course. I rely on them for social interaction, for support and encouragement. Through no fault of their own, I am not their priority, though. I am no longer needed to return the favour in offering that crutch to keep them standing. That sucks, to no longer be first in command, or even second. More likely third, or fourth. And I miss them, I miss how we were.
Not only that, though. Having a union with someone else is kind of essential to actually be in any way financially secure and by that I mean having a roof over my head. All of my siblings moved out after much feverish saving for a deposit, whether renting or getting a mortgage. I’m not unrealistic enough to believe with a London dream in my eyes I’ll be getting on the housing ladder any time soon, but the thought of living the rest of my days living in shared houses with people I don’t know, who aren’t necessarily the types who want to be known. Well, I wouldn’t say it was a far stretch to say I feel pretty depressed by that. Not to mention the fact I don’t see myself in London for at least a couple of years, which is another couple of years living with my parents, where I feel like I’m getting in the way and, to be honest, unwanted.
None of this caters for the fact I’m not sure I’m even capable of finding someone, which I’m going to keep a stiff upper lip about, because no one has the patience to listen to me about that anymore. Probably because they think they’ve been there when, really, they definitely haven’t. Fyi, having a single stint doesn’t allow you to comprehend how I feel. I don’t have any friends that have curled in on themselves because of the rejection and the sometimes subsequent building of walls around themselves. I am alone, both self-inflicted and not. And as much as we can tell ourselves relationships aren’t the be all and end all, I’m struggling to comprehend how my life pans out when all my friends are coupled off, living with each other and I can’t seem to get out of the bedroom in my parents house.
And unfortunately these realisations all come right as I lapse into dark, drowning thoughts again, just like I was experiencing this time last year and as we broke in the new year. Like sometimes I wish I wasn’t here. They scare me, they don’t feel like me. But they’re there lurking. And I have no idea where to find my strength right now.