Getting up

I'm not really sure how this post will turn out. I don't know whether they're words that should be said out loud, or whether anyone would want to read them. It feels a bit serious, a bit me, me, me.

So if like me, you're of the English, keep it buried where it won't embarrass anyone, school of thought, feel free to skip this next bit.

Last year my 4 and half year old relationship ended. Disintegrated would be a better term.

It started in March and dragged on for 7 months. When the fight had completely left me, when we'd run down every relationship cul de sac, I moved out.

At the time, I genuinely thought I was ok. We had always been good friends, and though it was a slow and sad split, there was no kicking and screaming, no drama.

But it was insidious. I stopped wanting to go out. Drank way too much, ate crap, stopped making an effort. Couldn't sleep.

It really annoyed me.

I have always thought I was the kind of person that could shake things off, put things into perspective. Yet here I was, 24 years old, living in London with a good (if not entirely satisfying) job as a copywriter, surrounded by kind friends and family, feeling completely numb. It was a feeling I had never had before.

It was around then, that the idea of writing a blog started forming. I figured if I put the words in my head down somewhere public, I'd have to do something about them.

But it took a little time. I was so keen to blame anyone and everyone for feeling miserable that I forgot that the only person who could get me out of it, was me.

Once that clicked, things get easier.

So this was the plan. I'd grow up. I'd stop moping and snap out of it. I'd lose that extra stone I've been pretending I haven't put on. Enjoy this bloody marvelous city I am so proud to live in. Spend more time with the people who so patiently waited for me, spend less with those who hadn't. Get a job I could be excited about.

In short, I would be grateful for a life in which the worst heartache I'd experienced was a breakup with a boy.

Sure, I'll probably never be the kind of person who remembers to flip the mattress. I'll still want chips with everything and I'll never enjoy the gym.

But somethings never change.

{Print by Chris Bourke, courtesy of the Nelly Duff Gallery}