About my new flat mate 

So. Recently I’ve undertaken this interesting new adventure of living with this woman. She’s 24, tall, long hair, sometimes funny and always fucking forgets to switch the lights off even when she leaves the flat. She is me. Hello.

So after starting work last August I moved back in with my parents for a while and commuted to work. Then, some time in late January I became horribly aware that my energy and enthusiasm for life was at an all time low. I was lethargic, unmotivated and unhappy. There was a whole ream of things contributing to that depression and living home with my parents was one of them.
WHICH IS NUTS. Why? Because my family are the most a-mazing people you will ever meet. We are this unit of joy, love, support, happiness and alcohol. Moving home didn’t restrict me in any way; I continued to experience the same freedom I always enjoyed but in my mind, I felt trapped.

A million things were happening that led me to feel like my life was being lived for me. Moving back home had somehow gone from a temporary measure to a means of saving money for a housing deposit so I could move in with my boyfriend in eighteen months’ time in a swanky new flat in Birmingham. It was all planned out and I felt like I was supposed to be ready for it. Everyone was telling me what a great time it was to invest, how this makes such financial sense and blah de mortgage blah. Before I knew it, conversations were had, viewings were booked, flats were seen and I was internally crying.

So one cold, dreary January evening as I drove home from work, following a major decision to listen to my intuition, I made up my mind to tell everyone around me that I wasn’t ready to just jump into the future like that. And that I was moving out on my own. It seemed that all those events had lined up to propel me into taking control over my life again.

From that point on, all else slotted sweetly into place. I instantly felt like I was on a level plane: calmer, with no further despair, focused on finding a new place to live. This peace was generated when I made a decision that was aligned with what felt right. For a few weeks, I was caught up in the technicalities: I looked at flats in Lancaster, minutes away from my family (none of which worked out, again I think for a reason) and then again in Preston, closer to work. I eventually found a two bed on the marina, overlooking a river. Having lived in a buzzing city for a few years and loving it, Preston feels pretty hopeless in comparison. A year ago, when I found out I’d be back here I was honestly devastated. Even now, having accepted where I am in life, I know I’m never going to love this place. But a shift has happened. Now, when I go on Instagram and see doctors who are living their lives in places like London and Manchester I no longer look at myself and think what a failure I am. I am where I am and the hand I was dealt was the one that accurately reflected the headspace I was occupying at the time. So when I stepped out onto the balcony, the grey river dancing in the rain and the cold February wind whipping at my skin, I figured that a flat this nice makes this city a lot less shit.

Then I signed some papers.

And now I’ve done it. I’m broke, counting down til payday, always forgetting to switch the kitchen light off and I’m happier. Much, much happier. I got past the initial freakiness of the boiler doing its thing at 3am. I got past the noises in the flat only being the ones I made and started savouring the silence. I set up my own wifi router, I pay all my own bills and have become a regular adult in the world.

This progression is hardly miraculous- it’s just a step in the direction that finally felt right.

Love to all, G x


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