I want to begin by apologising for my lack of posts this week, between stressing about some health problems and stressing about my move up to Carlisle writing a post wasn’t something I was jumping out of the seat to do to be completely honest. I’m currently on a long road trip down from Perth having stopped in both Edinburgh and Carlisle to do the last bit of packing and cleaning before moving up for the year in September, and having my sisters empty suitcase wedged into my side (it is 100% going to have caused a dent in me by the time we are home in London), I believe now is the right time to do an update.
I’m a horrific packer, I’d say it’s probably one of my worst qualities. I have a low attention span and hate feeling bored, so packing is quite tedious. This time packing was probably the worst it’s been over the past four years, I found clothes packing emotional as my size has fluctuated and I couldn’t help but remember my size 10 wardrobe I packed beginning university in 2017. Packing more chill clothes and reaching past night out clothes reminded me of the fact this year is going to be anything but normal; I doubt I’ll be seeing a nightclub and as most know my clubbing clothes are definitely not something, I’d be comfortable wearing day to day. Forcing myself through my wardrobe I felt nostalgia like never before, remembering days and nights which shaped me, traumatized me but predominately those happy memories I hope I never forget.
Fashion has always been an outlet for me, though my sister and I somewhat agree would say I have a very basic style. I stick to most trends and rarely wear clothes which people will look at despite being in awe of those who have the confidence to do so. I believe that a lot of the reason why my weight gain has hurt me has been down to the fact that clothes I used to love no longer fit how I want. I used to live in crop tops, like literally all of my tops were cropped and mini dresses; both of which now just show my ‘imperfections’ and make me feel even more insecure than I already am.
I’m getting a bit off topic here to be honest, but as I hope I’ve portrayed packing clothes this week was emotionally draining. In correlation of my hatred of packing I am even worse at unpacking, this meant packing for Carlisle was a matter of just going through the countless bags and boxes still fully packed from moving out of Plymouth. I was drained, I’d ended up having a breakdown almost every day and I couldn’t help but question whether I’d messed up by choosing Carlisle over Plymouth. My friends are all in Plymouth, I know the area and I would’ve had a job waiting for me when I got down. The course was Psychology, a subject I fell in love with 5 years ago and if it hadn’t been so intensive and partly online, I probably would’ve ended up back in Plymouth.
Carlisle was the course though. It felt right. Finding that course was fate telling me to move on. I want to work with children, adolescents and families; there is nothing I’m more passionate about than making a difference and this course pushes me perfectly into the social sector. I made the right choice and yet I am not ready to leave Plymouth. I took a huge risk when I went down to university 3 years ago, I was a wreck and I missed my friends and life in London so bad that I almost dropped out after a few weeks. Next month I take an even bigger risk, most my friends are graduated and back in London. I will watch them meet up and be together whilst I sit five hours away alone. I won’t get the same opportunities to meet people as university will be online and I’m living in a flat with one other person. I won’t have someone to push me into going to the gym, to stop me from getting take outs every day or even to help me fake tan my back (as I’m sure he won’t fancy doing that).
Next month I take the first step towards my adult life, my aim is to move straight into my own place after this year and to not move back down to London. My anxiety is on red alert but at the same time I’m all sorts of content; this is what I’ve wanted for years. I worked so hard, so I’d have the future I want and deserve. I want a job where I’m happy, I want to be a homeowner before I’m 30 and I want to be in a mentally stable position leading up to my thirties. My whole life has been living as if I would like a future but don’t expect one, this year is about claiming that future I’ve dreamt about. Nothing is too wild; I’ve made it this far and I never expected that.
It’s not easy to visualise or expect a future when you spend every day wishing to have no future. I didn’t think I’d be alive past GCSEs, and after that I lived every day like the next day my depression might win even on the good days. Now I look forward to a future, I actively plan my future and have stopped living like tomorrow I’d be gone. I think that’s what you call character growth. I love my life; I miss Plymouth and my friends but I’m doing this for my future. I can’t wait to go on this journey and take you all on it with me.
As always thank you so much for reading, I’m so grateful for every view every read.