One Year On From My Last Blog Post.
It has been almost 12 months since I wrote my last blog post. One entire year.
So much has happened, I am not entirely sure where to begin really. So, let me start by saying hello again, I’m back.
I have missed writing, this platform I often used to express my feelings and empty this ole head of mine. It was a big part of my life for a solid four years, maybe slightly longer. When I moved to Ibiza I simply fell out of love with blogging, and each and every time I tried to pick it back up, I failed. I had other priorities.
For whatever reason, I feel like now is a good time to start using my blog again. It’s funny when you make a decision, one so final. The Universe magically then starts shifting around you, I have had old PR friends showing up in my Inbox, samples arriving through my door and sponsored post opportunities coming my way. I took all of that as a sign, a gentle nudge, that my feelings of missing my blog were kind of for a reason after all.
This industry is definitely not the same as it was when I was drifting along with it. I feel like now, I am about to dip my toes into an entirely different pool, one with a huge scary ass wave machine, ready to drown me. I mean, does anyone even read blogs anymore? It’s now all about IGTV, and who is influencer of the week? I love it all, and I am so impressed by everyone who has carried this industry to the position it is at today.
That being said, I’m just going to roll with it and see where my writing takes me.
So what has been going on this last year?
Last Summer was probably one of my toughest periods. I was in love, head over heels, crazy in love – but then he hurt me. We hurt each other. It was toxic and our relationship changed who I was. I’d been with this person for two years and it wasn’t going anywhere, we both knew that, but neither of us wanted to let go. I left Ibiza, and moved back to the UK last October. I felt so lost and lonely. It was a scary place to be. Ibiza had become my home and then all of a sudden I knew it wasn’t anymore. I’d always been the one to end a relationship, so to have my heart broken for a change, was an entirely new concept. I can be quite the Ice Queen, so to feel something so intensely – I just did not know how to cope. I didn’t know I was capable of even having such strong emotions. Usually, I felt numb. Off the back of feeling this way, I then had to make room for the guilt to sink in; I had also caused this level of pain to others I had loved in the past – it was all too much. Heartbreak & karma is a bitch.
I have pressed the backspace button so many times, trying to type out these words. This next bit of news, still almost 6 months on, does not feel real. My best friend, after two long years of battling, lost her fight with cancer and we said goodbye to her on December 18th 2018.
One of the main reasons I had decided to move back to the UK was to be with Emmie, I couldn’t bare to be in a different country knowing she was suffering. I had no idea she would be taken from us so soon. Her funeral was in January, and I cannot express how proud I was in that moment, to have known her, I hope she knew how loved she truly was. I think of Emmie every day, and love reading our Whatsapp conversations. I know she is Up There with my Dad, and I know she is no longer in any pain, and with that I take comfort.
January 2019. Crying on the floor of my mum’s bathroom, I decided I just did not want to be here anymore. I was hysterical, crying harder than I possibly ever have done before, I told my mum how I just did not want to be alive. In that moment, I really meant it. I was mentally exhausted. Life sometimes just gets too much. We lose sight of what it is really about, and for me, I had hit a horrifyingly low place. I had been to rock bottom before, once before, when I lost my Dad. I did not expect to ever visit that place again in this lifetime.
January was tough. Heartbroken, losing my best friend, moving back home and everything else. My mental health just plummeted. I am not ashamed to talk about this, nor am I writing this as a form of sob story. I am sharing these events because I want others to know that it’s perfectly okay to talk about your darkest moments. Talking makes things better.
When I was diagnosed with PTSD, only a few years ago, I never told my mum I was suicidal. I told no one. So when I had those same feelings again, on the bathroom floor earlier this year, I was frightened. I told my mum everything. I talked and talked and she listened. She cried, and listened. Now, I am not an easy human. I can be god damn awful when I want to be. Leading up to this, my mum and sisters were at breaking point, I had pushed them away so much. Mental illness can do that. Right down in my gut, I knew I had to speak up. Enough was enough.
And all it took, to start to feel better, was just to talk. Just to let out all those sad feelings. And day by day, I got stronger.
My mental health not only tried to destroy my personal life but also my career too. I lost so many clients off the back of not being emotionally or mentally stable. I had gone from earning a lot of money, to practically nothing in the space of a few months, on moving back to the UK. It was soul destroying. I was so embarrassed and had no idea if I could rebuild my business up again.
I told myself that my Dad and my best friend would give anything to be here today, and who was I, to not make the most of my time here. Whenever I struggled, this became my mantra. I cut off anything and everything that made me feel toxic, I spent time with people who made me feel good about myself. I listened to epic music. Danced in my dinosaur pjs. I moved back to Manchester. I spent time with my beautiful nice, Lily. My family forgave me for being an absolute muppet, and gave me so much support. I gave myself time. And slowly I healed parts of me. I am still healing.
When I first moved back to the UK, I was sofa surfing, not knowing where I should settle. I chose Manchester in the end, and I am so happy with that decision. It just feels like home. It’s a great city and I am right by both of my sisters.
Ibiza will always partly be my home too, as I have so much love for that island. I have just spent 5 weeks there in fact. I like to think I have the best of both worlds, as I can fly between the two places whenever I wish. It was difficult going back there, facing up to everything that happened last Summer, but it felt good. I feel like I can close that chapter now even whilst I am still dealing with heartbreak – on all levels – but I have come so far. Healing every day and life feels so good right now.
Now, almost a year on from when I got my first freelance job, I have now tripled my client list. I am still unorganised as hell, but my little business is doing well and growing month on month. Being my own boss is everything I wanted, it has its ups and downs but I love it.
I am so grateful, every single day. Life just feels a lot lighter than it once did.
I’ve allowed myself to go through all these motions, and I am so much stronger now. I know that sounds so cliche, but the crappy times really do make you a stronger human. I’ve learnt a lot about myself, and each day I am constantly trying to be the best version of me.
So here is to the next chapter.