Lost

Lost

I don’t blog about personal melodrama all that often. I’m terrified of the response I would get, that people would hate me and go out of their way to tell me so. I read and follow so many bloggers who have shared their stories online, used their blogs as online journals, offloaded their problems and fears and dreams onto a world of online strangers who don’t know them from the next person and for the most part, they seem to be okay after doing so.

The past couple of years have been a big change from the previous 17 before them. I moved to the city. I entered higher education. I made a batch of new friends and unfortunately lost some old ones. I changed multiple times, my personality, my style, my hair colour. And it has been exhausting.

Living in a fear of failure and not valuing your self-worth is hard. I spend the majority of my time worried or stressed or panicking about something. Beverley (Pack Your Passport) recently wrote in her newsletter The Letter B something about being alone and being your number one supporter. How at the end of the day and you are celebrating the small things, it is only you who will cheer you on and be there to hold your hand and encourage. She also wrote some pretty awesome words about loving your friends, you should all sign up to this newsletter, it. is. great. It is mentally exhausting because if you can’t/don’t/won’t hold your own hand, you start to feel worthless and stupid and silly for doing what you are trying to do. When you feel lonely and trapped inside your own mind, no one is there to smile with you if that blogger likes your Instagram picture or that essay came back as an A or you finally found those flights at that price. You are on a solo journey and as thrilling yet peaceful as it, it is also bloody hard. Making your own memories is sometimes wonderful on your own and for the most part, I am perfectly content with my own company. I don’t mind sitting in a cafe on my own, or driving around the countryside aimlessly on my own, or wandering a city park on my own. If I am in a good mood, I am content. I can go wherever I please, at my own pace and do and see what I want. I don’t have to make compromises but I also have to provide my own conversation and mental crutch. On the days where I feel like crawling back into my bed and the rest of the day being a mix of crying and staring aimlessly at my screen, there is no one to tell me otherwise. Nobody to pull me back out and wipe away the tears.

I miss home. I don’t miss the place all that much but I miss my parent’s and my sister. I miss my house, my dogs, the cats, the countryside. I miss waking up in a place where I instantly feel safe and protected and like a child again. I feel as if I have no responsibilities when I’m there, that I don’t need to impress anyone, that I won’t make mistakes or say things I don’t mean.

I’ve started to dislike parts of the girl who is slowly creeping out of me. I think she is childish, bitter, cruel and vindictive and I don’t think she is really me. I think she is a culmination of all that thoughts that sometimes go through my mind. I think she is my mind’s response to the view I have of myself. It is bloody difficult to like who you are if who you are is someone you personally cannot stand. I often feel I have two people inside me, the person making all the decisions and the person behind the glass screen who is really me who picks up the pieces and vows to do better. I chat a lot (to myself) about the importance of self-love and being okay with who you are and accepting everything about yourself to be truly happy and sometimes, I just can’t. I have a powerful relationship with the world “hate”. I throw it around all the time, use it to describe anything that doesn’t immediately work out or gives me a hiccup along the road and I often use it to describe myself which I think is the most dangerous and upsetting. I hate the way my body looks, I hate that I have no self-control when it comes to food, I hate that I am too weak to change either of those things that make me unhappy, I hate the way I sometimes treat people, I hate that I say and do things impulsively without realising or considering consequences, I hate that I sometimes hurt people with my words, I hate that I doubt my intelligence and whether or not I should be at university. I wish I could change a lot of things too. I wish had smaller boobs, less love handle, a flatter stomach, straighter hair, one chin, that I travelled more, had more friends, was less of a socially inept snail. I find it difficult to describe what I like about myself because I seem to be continuously out of my way to poison the image both myself and others have of me. How can I form healthy relationships with other people when the one that I have with myself is sometimes toxic? I always talk about wanting to be better, be good and in truth, I’m trying but I’m lost. I am stuck in this mind bubble where I’m screaming for someone to help me and I just can’t get out.

I’m not sick. Or sad. I’m just a little lost about where life is next going to take me. I don’t know who I am, where I am going, who I am going with. I don’t have plans. My hardest task is sometimes making the choice to leave the flat for the day when I would rather call up in a ball in my bed and not speak to anyone for a little while. I’m lost with who I am. It it difficult embarking on your life journey when you can’t stand your travelling companion and it is even more difficult when your travelling companion is you yourself. My two weeks at home allowed me to breathe. I wasn’t worried about appearing normal or nice, I wasn’t worried about making mistakes or getting tripped up by my own words, I wasn’t worried about feeling lost or scared or alone.

I breathed again and it was bloody good.

University is nearly over for a second year and despite my sometimes tumultuous relationship with it, I wouldn’t change my position in this world for one moment. I know my next steps for this summer and for once, they don’t terrify me. After my two weeks at home, away from the world, avoiding the screens unless they come in the form of Netflix, did me a lot of good. I started writing in my journal again. I was speaking to my flatmate yesterday about the way I sometimes have all this nonsense going through my head and that is why I loved my blog because I get to unload a heart chunk of it on here but I didn’t feel like I gave it everything, that there is still so much going on.

She asked if I journaled and I said sometimes and pointed to a little scrappy notebook that has some of my philosophical (hehe) notes inside. The worst I sometimes feel is when I am on a night out (I won’t chat about my disdain for night clubs here) and unfortunately, I can’t suddenly wap out my little notebook and write down some thoughts in HIVE. But I’m going to start making use out of this notebook more for when I can write things down. I did it a year ago and believe it or not, it worked. I like to solve problems and complete tasks by with talking about them, chatting about strategies, solutions, ideas with people and by bouncing around off other people, I work. I have talked through many things  have encountered in my life with my mum, my sister, my friends about the thing I am going to do tomorrow and this is how I was going to do it and why I was going to do it and did they think this was a good idea etc etc. I feel less as if I’m jumping off into the deep end and instead walking passively through the shallows.

The world can be scary and big when you are alone and it can be scarier and bigger then you don’t have a good relationship with who you are. I don’t always want to be the girl who cries after one too many glasses of wine or who spends her time worrying about things that have been done. I don’t want to be the person I have slowly started to become and I just want a chance to find out who I really am, the person who likes the colour red, diet coke, avocados and binge-watching TV shows on Netflix.

I’m still that person, I’ve just gotten a bit lost.

(This is not the blog post I intended to post today, I actually intended to write about The Papergang’s March box and I might post it a lil later or in a day or two but I have had all this bubbling on my chest for about six months and I needed to get it all off).

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