Everyday’s an adventure

My first few weeks at the new job were great. Unsurprisingly, life just got better when I wasn’t stuck in the flat all day everyday. As you’ll know if you read the last post, I adjusted super fast to the new pace of life. Once I was on a roll I just kept rolling. I still love my job. The people I work with are lovely. I love the work we do. I love how much my brain hurts at the end of a day and how much time I get to read now I’m a commuter.

Just over a week ago I got back after an incredible two weeks spent travelling Europe with one of my best friends. I can’t even begin to tell you what a great time we had. From walking miles through cities and mountains, to boogy-ing the night away with new friends from all over the world, it was literally one amazing day after another.

Now it’s back to every day life, but it doesn’t feel everyday. Everyday feels like an adventure somehow. I’m getting the bus every day this week because something’s wrong with the suspension on my old little car. This is an adventure in itself. Today the moody bus driver tried to tell me off for not signalling him right. I put one hand up and waved and he nearly drove straight past. He stopped a little past me, in the middle of the road so I walked very tentatively up to the doors. He opened them but only to say ‘You waving at me!?’ whilst imitating my wave like it was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever seen accompanied by a fake cheesy smile and everything. He wasn’t very happy, but he let me on in the end at least.

Right now I’m sat on my bed with the balcony doors as wide open as they can be and the heat from the laptop is still almost unbearable. I’m not complaining though. I feel like I’m still on holiday in this weather. Passenger is playing from my Spotify, unsurprisingly. I’m about to pick up the book I’m currently reading, which I think I might finish tonight and I can’t stop admiring the bedroom carpet which I hoovered for the first time since we moved in. It’s the little things eh?

Butterflies find a new home

Move-in day wasn’t far from perfect. Everything ran surprisingly smoothly. I was so ridiculously happy when we eventually found ourselves sat on blow up chairs, in our new lounge, surrounded by our belongings, eating Chinese takeaway and drinking Prosecco.

I’m still happy. I look around me now and I still don’t completely believe everything here is ours. Ours for the near future anyway. I can’t even believe there is an ours. To think that Dave and I now have an ours makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside in ways my romantic pessimist of a younger-self would have cringed at.

Everything’s almost in it’s place now. The bedroom is sorted and I’m so happy with it. The kitchen is nearly there. There’s some bits and bobs here and there that need a home, but all in all, the flat is looking good.

I should be so content. I should be bounding forward into my new life. I’m at the start of a whole new chapter and honestly?

Today hasn’t been a good day. Half way through I wanted to pack a bag, get in my car and go home. Chapter three begins at the start of a year in which I pledged to be more daring. To say yes more. To stick a middle finger up at my anxiety… In Chapter Two I vowed not to grumble. To stay positive. This chapter’s for being brave enough to say exactly how I’m feeling.

So truthfully, today I crumbled. Yesterday I was hit by one of them 24 hour bugs and my body crashed. Then today, my mental health went down the drain. It is going to be hard to describe how I felt when the butterflies caught up with me, but I will try.

I’m no stranger to an anxious meltdown. I recognized it. I reached out to people close to me. My support network came out in full force. My brother called. My best friend called. Dave’s been great.

That’s what frustrates me most I think. Anxiety is frustrating in many ways, but it is most frustrating when it holds you back at times in your life when you know in your heart that you’ve really so much to be grateful for. I’ve some amazing people in my life. I’m young. I’m free. I just moved into a new flat. I have high hopes for the future and I have everything I need to get to where I want to be.

Just a few hours ago I was seeing everything differently. I doubted everything. Nothing was right anymore. I reached out for help, but then I felt like a burden. Then I just wanted to disappear. I knew I was being irrational. If anything stops me pressing publish on this post, it’s the fear that someone worse off will read it and they’ll wonder why I’m even grumbling. I beat myself up over that while I tried to pull myself together earlier. It did me no favours.

Right now I’m on the upward slope again. I feel nervous about next week. I’m scared I’ll crumble all over again. I’m also excited though. Plenty of opportunities ahead for sticking that middle finger up yet again. How can you be daring unless you’re scared in the first place, right?

I promise Chapter three won’t be all doom and gloom, but I also promise to be brave and to be honest. Or to try to be.