Back in February, when I posted a short update about my move to London, I had absolutely no idea how the next few months would unravel. As I mentioned, after I got back from my backpacking trip, I very quickly managed to land my dream job and had moved to the capital by November. The next few months went in a complete blur, some of which I’m hoping to document over the next few weeks, however I was hopeful and felt secure in where my life was headed.
In reality, I don’t think I really prepared myself for the changes that would end up taking place – I think I felt invincible after my trip; I’d travelled the world, so this would be a walk in the park. I was in London with the person I loved, doing a job that I loved, and finally everything seemed to be falling into place. Until all of a sudden it wasn’t; it’s funny how life does that to you.
The harsh reality was that London was hectic – way more so than I ever could have imagined. This city is so buzzing – there are so many people, so much going on. But it’s also incredibly lonely. I threw myself into life. There were after work drinks and the coolest events, I joined a local netball league and started running around my local park. But no one speaks to one another. They push past you in their haste to get to and from work, they’re unfriendly and rude. I remember the first time I did a food shop and was completely horrified as the cashier sucked his teeth at me and sighed, as I desperately tried to fit everything in my bag; unceremoniously beginning to scan the next person’s shopping. I quickly realised that you have to book your friends in three or four weeks in advance, all leading busy and already established lives to head out to coffee on a whim. I felt myself dreading weekends – hating the emptiness of my flat and the sprawling 48 hours of nothingness.
Then came the heartbreak. After 7 months of travel, I returned back to the UK honestly thinking – this is it, this is the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. It turns out that London had other ideas for us, and while we lived just 20 minutes away from eachother it began to feel like a long distance relationship. The date nights stopped, the good morning and good night texts disappeared, and all of a sudden there was a distinct feeling of dread – as if one of us was dragging their feet. Better things to do, better people to see, but maybe too scared to cut the cord that had existed for so long. In the end the compromises became too much, and I had to admit that in just 6 months we had gone in different directions, were at such different places in life, although so close in physicality. So I said goodbye to my best friend, and it all of a sudden hit me that no one cared if I got home safely at night. No one was there to share the day’s experiences with, or to share inside jokes with that had been there for years. I honestly lost the entirety of my 20’s in a week – and without the support of my family and friends back home in the flesh, it was truly one of the most difficult experiences of my life. It still is some days.
To a certain extent, I think I’ve probably suffered some form of culture shock, and all of the life events that have happened in a very short space of time, have sent me spinning into an abyss of uncertainty and loneliness. I do finally feel as if London could be called home for a while, and I’m becoming much more comfortable with my surroundings, however I also felt like I lost myself somewhere in the last few months, and that’s a truly horrible feeling. The furthest thing from my mind lately has been this blog, however I’m really looking forward to getting back into it, and finding myself again in a period of life, which is actually really bloody exciting. I’m determined to make the most of what life throws at me, and to get back into the things that I love.