Where do we go from here

 

When I decided to travel nineteen months ago I did not anticipate the catalogue of events this would create for me.

 

I spent a year planning my six month trip around America. I saved vigorously, worked three jobs, limited my social activities as much as I could, worked out my monthly budget, and prepared my case full of things I thought I would need. I remember sitting on the floor in my living room with a map of the United States in front of me; post-it notes, pens, notepads, IPhone, laptop, calculator all neatly around me as I designed the most cost-effective route to get the most out of America for my budget.

 

I am not wealthy. I never have been. My family struggled throughout my life and beforehand. Money has never held importance to me other than ensuring we are able to eat, sleep, and enjoy each others’ company. As a five year old I remember being at my Dad’s house with my sisters and Dad in the living room; we did not have money, we were struggling to pay the rent, my parents had divorced two years before and had lost an incredible amount of money on the house we had to sell. We had moved from the North of England to the Midlands and so both my parents were away from their families. They were alone trying to raise three daughters in a new small town after leaving one of England’s biggest cities, and they now had money troubles along with custody battles to contend with.

 

While in the living room with my Dad and Sisters my Dad brought out a bar of Cadbury Dairy Milk chocolate. I remember so clearly from childhood that if we had a bar of Cadbury chocolate and “hedgehog” bread it meant Dad had a little extra money left over that week.

 

We did this so often that it became our routine whenever we had the money for chocolate. We all shared the chocolate equally between the four of us while chatting and then when the chocolate had all gone we rolled up the foil wrapper and threw it around the room at each other; diving over sofas, ducking behind chairs, using feet, arms, heads, flicking the wrapper we were laughing so hard and for so long it was true happy family time.

 

When I was at University in London I walked around Camden showing my Sister and her Boyfriend my favourite area of London. I stopped at a palm reader on the corner of a street. It was five pounds for a single palm reading so I went for it.

 

I was eighteen years old, completely fresh to London and filling my days at University with dance and drama (Performing Arts being my subject). When I sat with the palm reader she asked me to not respond or speak, simply listen.

 

She told me that I surround myself with negative people; that whenever I get a little bit higher there is always someone waiting there ready to knock me straight back down again. She told me I am not good with money, and I never will be. She told me I will find Mr Right, but I will hesitate, and he will walk straight past. But she told me I have a lot of Hope. She said that I am filled with Hope.

How I could be full of hope after this conversation escapes me a little but rather than seeing this as my fate, I viewed it as a warning of how my life could become unless I acted now. Possibly my Hope talking.

 

Over the next few years I would try to look at my friendships and see who my friends actually were. Because of this I have lost contact with many people, but the ones still in my life, oh my gosh I love them. My incredible friends like S, my high school best friend that stood by me, and continues to stand by me, during every good and every single bad moment. When the heat is on she is stood next to me, and when the chips are down she’s always there for me. My wonderful friend Chunk (his nickname since his childhood that no longer applies given that he is a walking muscle-machine now but he’s still ‘Chunk’), who, when the drama surrounding my friend B’s relationship ending erupted to gigantic proportions a few weeks after my own long-term relationship break-up, met me for coffee and asked me what happened; I instantly began the story of our mutual friend B only to be interrupted with “No, it was obvious they were never going to work, I’m asking about you. How are you? Are you ok?” I had forgotten my own break-up was in anyone but my own mind until he said that to me; I didn’t think anyone was interested since all I was being asked about around then was regarding B. I cried in his arms as I told him how unhappy I had been in the relationship and how much I tried to change myself so that I wouldn’t be yelled at by my ex or his family any more but I couldn’t live like that, so after three years I left. I was devastated and was still getting used to sleeping alone, no longer having my phone filled with “I love you” messages, and not having the same routine after work of dinner and cuddles on the sofa. I was incredibly lonely and trying to hide it to help others deal with B’s dilemma.

 

My trip was meant to be six months and then I return to England on January 4th 2014 with new experiences, bad hair, covered in travelling tattoos, a strange accent and my head and heart ready to enjoy the new adventure of settling my twenty-six year old self down. I spent three months of my travelling time thinking of how perfect my life would be when I returned to the arms of My American in January. Instead I flew to Hawaii rather than home for my three week break where I had planned to meet up with My American until his work commitments and his own thoughts on our new long-distance relationship meant that he didn’t want me to change my plans to meet him.

 

While in Maui with my newest closest friend from travelling, my San Diego roommate from Germany, she asked me to join her in travelling around Australia for a year. I had known LF for two weeks. I thought about My American. I thought about the fact I had told him about my eating issues and a week later he had told me not to return to England to meet him. I thought about how much money I had left, how much I would need for Australia, how much a flight would be, how much I would need to continue my trip around America and if I would then have enough to travel to Australia with the $5,000 the Australian Government require you to have before entering the country on the Work and Travel Visa. I thought about everywhere I still wanted to see in America and about everything I wanted to do when I got home. All I had wanted to do was settle down. Close this chapter on my American Dream and meet My American in London. I weighed everything up; thinking of my bank balance in my head, converting it to pounds, then US Dollars, then Australian Dollars, what would happen if I went back to England and My American didn’t want me. What would I regret? Not going back? Or not going to Australia when given the chance to?

 

I had two cards in my hands; continue the original plan and return to England whether My American wanted me or not. Or try Australia knowing that My American didn’t want me right now so there was every possibility he wouldn’t in two months when I got back. More time away from me meant less time wanting to be with me.

 

I said yes.

 

I cut a month off my original trip around America as I couldn’t afford to enter Australia with less than the $5,000 the Government stated, and the extra month in America would eat into that money too much. I wrote on my social media page my newest plan; hoping My American would message me. Instead I messaged him. I told him the new plan and he gave me no indication of his feelings towards it. Was he sad I wasn’t returning? Was he happy I was the one that made it easier to let go? Was he even wanting me to talk to him? I had no clue.

 

I didn’t book my flight until three days before I left New Orleans on the plane to Australia. One month after I messaged My American.

 

Looking back now I wish that I had spoken to him properly before I made any decisions. He isn’t a mind reader and neither am I. If I had the same chance now I would ask how he felt towards me and if he saw us with a future. I would tell him the only reason I’m considering leaving is because I can’t face going back and him not wanting me. Instead I just left.

 

Now I have been in Australia for two months and last week I booked a one-way flight back to London leaving in two weeks. During a conversation in the annex of our house at 4am I cried to LF as I said that I can’t stay here thinking of him each day and wondering if there’s any way we are meant to be together. I needed to go back and meet him. I messed up by not returning in January and I needed to tell him, if only to clear my head.

 

I battled the decision whether to tell him I am coming home or to wait until I was back and see if he wanted to meet. I told him. And now I wish I hadn’t booked the flight. He doesn’t want to meet me; it’s too late. He’s moved on.

 

Today I got offered a job in Australia, after reading an email from a job I applied for in England asking me to call them to discuss the position. I called my sister and told her I have two paths in front of me; one I know, one I don’t.

 

If I go home I work in an office again. I excitedly see my friends and family for the first few weeks, and then I am working in the office. I don’t meet My American because he doesn’t want to meet me, and I am exactly where I was a year ago.

Or I stay here. I work the job I’ve never had before in a company that has stated that team building exercises consist of paintballing and go-karting trips, that they already have a team lined up for me that they want me to work with, and that the two weeks I have planned to return to England (as I only stated I would be away for two weeks) is not a problem, they will have me join the team before I leave and work as normal as soon as I return after the two weeks.

 

Seems like an easy choice.

 

My head wants me to travel, to explore, become the Me I am perhaps meant to be. But my heart is devastated. I wanted a life with him. I fell in love with the possibilities. With everything it could have been, and I held on to that for six months, daily.

 

If you are half as sick of reading about My American as I am tired of thinking of him and every mistake I made then I apologise. My head knows I need to let this go but my hope won’t be silenced yet. I believe I met my Mr Right, and I hesitated to meet up with him before I left for America, and now he has walked past the thought of us. My friends here and while travelling have told me that my Mr Right won’t walk straight past. My Mr Right will want to meet me, be with me, do anything to have my heart and me in his busy life.

I hope so much that this is true.

Trying to close the chapter

xxHBxx

Happiness vs Judgement

What do I need to tell you, before you’ll judge me..?

Three and a half months ago a friend of mine made the most courageous, bold and stupidly-timed decision of her life. Had it ended there it might be a simple story of turning a new page and learning from mistakes made, however my friend is suffering for her choices. Not by the choice she made directly, but by the people around her. People that were not a party to the choice, were not involved in the day-to-day life around the choice, and that should, in theory at least, accept she made her decision based on her happiness and long-term emotional health. They have chosen, painfully, to judge and punish her.

My friend, B, significantly altered the path that her life was going down a month after I similarly altered mine. She was unhappy. She either hid it well or we were blinded by our own feelings towards her future. Whichever it truly was the fact is she was unhappy, and was about to embark on a long-run of unhappiness.

She fought hard to create the life she has dreamt of since childhood (a commonly-used phrase I know but in the case of B this is true; her dream-life has looked only one way since childhood). To the outside observer it seemed she was maintaining her dream life. To her she was a puppet of her own show.

I myself was a close, at times ‘inside’, observer of her life at the time but, blinded by the show, my own feelings, and my own mini-dramas at the time, my eyes were closed to seeing or seeking the truth happening with her. I watched and accepted the show in front of me and moved on with my life.

Now she is personally moving forward, happier, with the life-changing choice behind her and the path in front of her a lot less painful-looking, anxiety-ridden, and emotionally lonely. Others, unfortunately, are taking longer to accept her happiness is key in her own life. The alternative being that she is unhappy with her life I am, as time goes on, becoming more baffled by the judgement she’s still living with.

She spent so many years on a pedestal created by others, landing on her feet with dignity and heart after each obstacle. She was golden to many, and loved by lots. To a select few she was placed on the pedestal at a young age and B worked hard to keep up with their expectations it seemed. It is those few that now punish her in a way that has knocked her clean from her tower and cast her into the shadows. A place she has never really landed before.

B is an incredible person. But she’s just a person. She is flawed uniquely, like we all are. She has strength and conviction that some have never witnessed in a person of her age, she also has negative points too, as every single person living and dead does, some big others small – it can be stated ‘each to their own’ on placing them in either category if that’s what ‘floats your boat’ so to speak but it is always important to remember that judgement opens you up to judgement. Judge others and you expect to be judged, because you welcomed it into your life. (A slightly somber-sounding note from the author there; whoops lets bring it back to the happy-track)

The question I can’t help thinking of whenever this particular issue is worded being should she be punished for her negatives because of the expectations of those that chose to promote her positives so vocally?

She didn’t walk up to the pedestal at a young age and claim that she wanted to live on it. She behaved in a way in front of certain people that they liked at that time. Because of this, over time, her pedestal seemed too high to touch. One, again ‘stupidly-timed’, decision to be happy caused a Jenga-effect knocking her from the high-ground she never asked to be on in the first place. And now she is punished. By the people that meant so much if not the most to her.

It draws me to thinking if I allow others to know more of me, on here perhaps and in daily life, how long until I am judged. How long until my honesty is punishable.

B knows she made the right choice. Us around her now know she made the right choice. She chose happiness over unhappiness, plain and simple. As for the people currently judging her I am hoping they eventually see she made the right decision and choose acceptance. Acceptance that her life is her own, that her happiness is her own mission and one that only she has control over. I worry about what will happen if they never do. How long it takes could cause irreparable damage to a relationship they each cherished. To punish a person for choosing to be happy in their own life brought a new twinge of fear to me for any future choices I make in the pursuit of my own happiness.

On the flip-side however I did make my own choice in happiness, and I came out smiling brighter than my face thought possible. I chose my own happiness regardless of what others thought or any explanations I would have to go through after, the fact that it seems now that people are fully behind me and have been all along is a nice surprise but not important to changing my smile. I knew I made the right choice therefore whether they saw it or not was of no concern to me. It wasn’t actually a factor to me until this happened to B. She chose her own happiness and is being judged and punished for the fact that it doesn’t look to others the way it appeared before.

Perhaps the key is not allowing others the opportunity to hurt you with their judgement. One quote I love that this situation reminds me of also happens to be one of my favourites; “What other people think of you is none of your business”. Simple, direct and to the point. Also completely true when it comes to personal happiness, in my opinion. When someone offers you a gift and you refuse to take it, that gift belongs to its original owner – the same applies with negativity; if you don’t accept it, it’s not yours.

I hope how much I want people to be happy comes across on here. Judgement is only as important to you as you allow it to be. In the case of B it had shaken her after a difficult situation that had already stripped her to her core, however she is more powerful and fragile than people may think. Knowing you are doing what makes you personally happy makes the powerful more powerful, and the fragile side of things I guess will always be a work in progress. One thing at a time.

xxHBxx

Note on notes

Clouded thoughts make interesting quotes.

After searching through several old and recent notebooks I discovered a slightly amusing note that I had written a short while after my last relationship ended.

The note itself is not amusing in the slightest however, the amusing part was the way in which I had written this note. I had just ended a serious relationship with a man I was within days of signing papers to buy our dream house together with before realising, rather epiphany-like, that I wasn’t meant to be with him. At the time of writing this aforementioned note I was contemplating the possibility of throwing myself back into the strong arms of a man that I had been in a relationship with before my last one began.

The person I went to about the confusion I was putting myself through in this was A – of course. I explained to A how my life would look with C, my ex-ex I suppose, and how much I knew that he adored me and would take care of me and that I wouldn’t ever be belittled by him or pushed down, important after my last relationship.

When telling A about C she listened patiently and occasionally swooned over each story I had of him, including the one in which I recently crashed his brand new BMW rather spectacularly into a bush while he laughed it off and joked about it reminding him that he needed to renew his life insurance. She adored how I spoke of him and to be quite honest I surprised myself with how much I actually adore him too as I don’t have a single bad thing to say about him, he really is an unbelievably fantastic guy. However, and I can’t exactly put my finger on why other than I just know, he’s not for me. A asked if I perhaps felt I didn’t think I deserved to be treated the way I knew he would treat me, and I knew as she was saying it that it wasn’t that, he’s just not the guy for me, as amazing as he is and as much as I’m not entirely sure why – he’s fantastic ‘on paper’ for me.

I should also state here that while contemplating all of this I was, as my previous post informs, fully aware that I will allow nothing to prevent me from going on my next adventure which, all being well, will begin in a matter of months. Therefore, while speaking with A and thinking afterwards, I was in a gentle boxing match with my morals as I didn’t, and don’t, want to play with the heart-strings of anyone especially knowing I am leaving. Anything that began now would be for just months at a maximum, which isn’t fair to either.

But while giving the idea of being with C serious thought I wrote down the following note – and the amusing part for myself as I flicked through all of my old notes featuring various mini-dramas and peaceful observations was that I wrote it as if I was with him and was writing my thoughts while in the new relationship; a style of writing that I had never done before. In this note I had already chosen him and was exploring my thoughts. It gave me a clearer head however so it might be worth looking into whenever anyone is feeling similarly conflicted (just a little note from the author for you there).

“I consciously threw myself into a loving-feeling again. I am fully capable of loving anyone; my gift to others and my curse on myself, and I knew I could love him, as I could love anyone. And so I did. For a few months at least. I allowed myself to cheapen my heart, for want of a better word, in order to dispel loneliness and boredom. It wasn’t fair on either of us. I used him and his heart the way everyone fears their heart to be used. And I did so consciously. Everyone should allow themselves nothing less than fireworks, butterflies, excitement, passion – to settle for anything less is to cheapen your soul. You are preventing thunderstorms and fires. And that’s just dull. Always wait for that passion you adore. The one who makes your heart smile and skip and sing when you see them, get a text or call from them. Don’t settle for anything less than you deserve to be happy. Because if they don’t make you that happy, then the point is..?”

It is fairly obvious to see where my thoughts were just after I wrote and read this note.

I am not with him. And after writing these thoughts down and viewing them as simply words on a page in front of me, ignoring the fact that they were my words and instead viewing them as if someone else had written them, I knew that for the time being, for the next few months and for the duration of my adventure to come, I am to remain solo.

And I can say with a genuine smile on my face and with complete honesty that once I realised this it made each day a lot less cloudy, and every day since much easier to navigate..

xxHBxx