This post may contain affiliate links to products. We may receive a commission for purchases made through these links (this does not affect the price you pay and helps me keep this blog running). Please note that I only recommend products that I use and love. To read my full disclosure click here.
(This post was written prior to moving to University in September)
For the first time in a long time, I sat down today to order my life into a list of to-dos.
I pencilled down the dates for future plans but also had a flick through to some diary entries from months ago when everything was entirely different. I guess I’ve been so busy making plans and blocking out reality/feelings that I’ve managed to ignore that little Pandora’s box in the back of my brain and called it ‘moving on’.
But that doesn’t mean it actually is moving on. What I’ve realised is that I don’t think it’s really possible to just compartmentalise and be okay, smile it out, slot straight into the next chapter of your life. No matter how hard I try to keep the old era blocked out, I find snippets of memories leaking into daily life.
Sometimes it’s songs, sometimes it’s random words in conversations, sometimes it’s just seeing something you thought you’d hidden from yourself poke out from under your desk.
Sometimes you can just shrug and accept that it all happened and sometimes you just have to cry about it, which I assume is why I’m doing this now.
The main difference between the me in the diary entries months ago and the me now is that through my tears, I am already trying to pick myself up.
My point of call is myself. I’m not reliant like I used to be.
I’m not dependent because actually, I’m pretty damn strong of my own accord and I can do this. I’ve managed to force my way through some disasters in my life and I’m not going to sit down and let the negativity, which inevitably surfaces its ugly head as often as it can, drag me down.
I think about the fact I’m starting University in September, the fact that this time it’s for real.
This time I get to show people who I really am and all I can do is hope people might accept me for that.
If they don’t, well, that’s okay too because I’m not expecting to make the whole world my friend.
This time I get to BE a writer, BE a musician, BE that bookworm in the library at 3 am because she wants to, BE the ex-caffeine addict nursing a new addiction to green tea, BE. Just be. That’s really nice, sometimes.
I’ve only really started to accept me for the way that I am in the last few months and taking a step back has meant that I’m learning new things about myself. Good, positive things.
Like the fact that actually, I work hard to help other people. I work hard to be positive. I work hard to wake up on a morning and say, ‘Today I am going to make myself proud and push myself some more’.
Believe it or not, it actually works. I am doing things that I never imagined I’d have the capability of doing. I am aiming and dreaming and pursuing like I’ve never done before.
I really, really want to be successful.
Not for anyone else, because I don’t owe anybody else anything and I don’t have anything to prove to others. I’m doing this for me, I want to prove to myself, I owe it to myself to be able to say, ‘Well done Pippa, you’ve made a change’.
I don’t just mean within myself but a change to the people around me; I don’t see any point in earning stacks of money. That’s not a success.
What use is a mansion to me when I’d prefer to be touring in a sweaty RV? I want to travel the world and EXPERIENCE the world, meet people, help people, enlighten myself and educate myself. Not just sit and idly waste the minutes.
I took a picture of myself crying before. Not because vanity exists in moments preceding a nervous breakdown but because I want to look back at that picture this time next year and be really, truly content. I want to know I’ve achieved.
I want a snapshot because I don’t want to waste this feeling and all the array of feelings before today because they all mean so much. They all amount to my strength now and the strength to come in the future.
From every dark place, a hope can be born.
By Ayesha (Pippa) Dey
“Ayesha (Pippa) finished up her MA(Res) in English Literature earlier this year and, following a post-thesis meltdown (Lord knows it happens to the best of us), she ran back to the safety of good ol’ mum & dad’s. Pippa has been on the road to recovery for a while now and thought to resurrect her blog, after months of unemployment spent cleaning the house and watching TV till her head hurt. She hails from Yorkshire and spends most of her free time writing avidly about mental health, self-care, politics and current affairs.”