Bare with me I promise this isn't as depressing as it sounds. See one of the only pictures I got of me on this trip via self timer as proof. 

Absolutely determined to write something again even although I don’t have a topic in mind. I’m sitting in Bar Postiguillo in Seville, the second tapas bar that came up on google maps and one that was luckily 3 minutes away from where I was when I was looking for respite from the rain. In the past 3 days I’ve hopped from Malaga to Granada to Seville and all three experiences were never going to be perfect, unfortunately Seville was the one took the hit. The rain is coming down sideways and has seeped through the laces of my shoes after I had spent the morning frantically finding the fastest/cheapest method of transport here from Granada after my initial 10am bus sold out burnt what little oil I had left in me after a few days of following a strict itinerary. That method ended up being a car share and was much more comfortable than any bus or train quadruple the price would’ve been, so never lose hope too fast. 

BUT - I’m here. I always joke about how my character gains a life or levels up each time I successfully solve a problem while solo travelling. Having dinner by yourself isn’t ideal by any means but you can eat where and when you want, and having turned my data off 10 minutes ago (75% of my way through the data that has to last me until early December) it’s dawned on me that it’s a literal sit down with yourself. Almost every word I’ve physically said today was piecing together a conversation with my Spanish speaking ride share driver, a woman I will always remember as being a complete lifesaver (and apparently “una salvadas” as opposed to “un salvidas” as she is not an object, but I still think that's wrong and I'm too embarrassed to ask anyone about it again hahaha). Speaking to people and constant introductions are equal parts completely routine and entirely strenuous. There is something so tiring in having to strip your life back to a few main points while still creating a decent image of yourself in another’s mind. Doesn’t matter whether it’s the start of a class, in a hostel or on a date. It’s exhausting.

Spending time by yourself when you are in a place where you can truly be happy in your own company is a blessing. It’s a chance to grow and recover and discover more of yourself than you had to time to figure out before. Walking every where this year has been a source of healing for me, and it’s provided training for manic tourism as a wee added bonus. I’ve become much more confident in myself in every aspect, which is ground I’ve covered in the last couple blogs so won’t bore myself or others with repetition but it’s still so true and proves itself so in the confidence to solve problems independently and to comfortably enjoy my own company for a few nights. 

It is unfortunate that Seville has suffered off the back of this trip but it’s what I get for cramming in as much as I can in such a short time. I’m still convinced I would have nailed this had the weather been better but you never know, I’m lucky I managed to get here at all. I still got to smell the citrus fruits (maybe orange, I don’t know if it counts as citrus but it smelled like it anyway) by the Real Alcázar and I got to climb the cathedral to spectacular albeit moody panoramic views of a city I’ve got so much yet to explore. 

Later in the day - from now on writing on the bus back from the airport in Palma - I went on to see the metropol umbrella which gave the cloudy and light polluted sky a wee bit of extra colour, I had the chance to dry off and I got to watch a flamenco show with the rare sound of heavy rain on the canopy roof incorporated into the performances. Unfortunately wasn’t able to cross a proper visit to the Alcazar off the list but that’s something for my eventual, now necessary, return. It was a funny and extremely memorable whistle stop trip - there isn’t an experience that can’t be salvaged (soggy feet and all), especially if you lost years off your life in stress trying to get to that point.

As of tomorrow I'm half way through my time living in Palma as an au pair and I feel more at home every day. The temperature has dropped a little in the past 2 weeks specifically and on cue my seemingly compulsive need to get ice cream almost every night has wavered and been replaced by a new need to spend any available hour during the day baking or thinking about what to have for dinner. Today I discovered that homemade shortbread is both easy and unbelievably comforting. Usually baking is my indication that I really feel at home somewhere, in Vancouver it took about a month to start back as well and even then I couldn't believe it took that long. Here is different - living in another family's home means that even at your most comfortable you are scared of overstepping. You can never really gauge someone's limits until they are pushed, and often that person doesn't know their limits until then either. The classic 'you never really know someone until you live with them' comes to mind here. That said, I'm extremely grateful for the family I'm with right now. I couldn't ask for two better kids to take care of and the family have made me feel as at home as they can. Spain itself feels more like home right now, I still never tire of going to the supermarket, getting on the bus or going on wanders through the same city centre streets everyday. Palma feels like a mini and more laid back Barcelona, with similarly beautiful modernist architecture and glorious beaches along the front. I'm enjoying getting to know a city you would easily look over if coming to Mallorca for the resorts or the nightlife. The locals are so friendly and so helpful considering my pitiful knowledge of Spanish or Catalan and my apparently dire ability to pick it up any faster. Between au pair work and teaching private English lessons I'm learning that I would be really happy as an educator but it's my fear of presentation and big groups that's holding me back. At this point I also can't remember what my diet was like when it wasn't made up mostly of tomatoes, avocados and fresh bread and it'll probably change my eating habits for years to come. Still can't get used to 10pm dinners though. 

Cue That Funny Feeling by Bo Burnham - why does the idea of settling in always feel so distinctly unsettling. The idea of always wanting/looking for something more feels extremely selfish and equally is something born out of almost excessive privilege. It's not something I'll sugarcoat or try to hide in this, I know that the feeling of wanting more is knowing that I have the opportunity to achieve it, and I am forever feeling extremely grateful that I've been able to do so much in such a short time already and that I'll likely be able to at least eventually do everything my heart burns to do. It's something I've been thinking about for a long time and something that I want to try and put into words more for my own peace of mind than anything - and I'm going to preface right now and say there will be no conclusion because I have none. Living in Glasgow is the best example at a glance. I'm caught between loving what is truly my home and wanting to get out and find that same sense of belonging elsewhere, and wondering that if I long to try and find 'belonging' anywhere else, then do I really belong in Glasgow? I'm getting to a point of being known for being a yes man and having FOMO regardless of what I'm missing out on or what I'm missing out on it for - and it's embarrassing. It's embarrassing to say that I wish I was at my best friend's sisters birthday party when I'm a few countries over walking on along the beach front. It's embarrassing that I'm spending my days immersing myself in one culture and feeling like I'm losing out on the experience of another. It's inherently selfish, and I've been embarrassed by it for years. 

A few months ago now, my family got bad news and the developments since, particularly while I've been away from home, haven't looked positive. It's the first time I've really been openly talked to like an adult about something as serious so my usual blissful ignorance towards it isn't an option (and it's about time I grew the fuck up and dealt with shit as it comes anyway). My first response to bad news is (and always has been) to keep myself busy, usually by putting myself into daily overdrive but over here, while already feeling unsettled, 'overdrive' means impulse. Impulsive trips, buses, walks, frantic activity. Nothing too out of the usual, just manifesting differently. Somehow this time I've accidentally began to let myself process the situation and for the first time in all the time I've spent from home in the past few years, I feel seriously homesick. Not enough in a way that would cause me to cut anything short, but it's something fueled by that same anxiety that comes with the fear of missing out. It's not that I want anything more, I'm just afraid of losing time. Life is too short. I'm constantly on edge about time passing to the point where I could tear my own hair out. I'm so excited for the future but simultaneously terrified of inevitable loss. It's something I've never been able to take advice about 'relaxing' about ('live in the moment' I'm TRYING, I promise. I'm so sorry). Every time I've been told that you have your whole life to do something my brain screams 'no you don't'. I'm someone who loves plans and lists but I'm late for everything and I love spontaneity and my own time but I always want company and I love to overshare but revel in the fact that no one actually knows what I do on a daily basis and I begin to panic and feel a sense of dread if things don't go exactly to plan. I want to fall in love and travel and have a family and have a solid career and spend as much time as I can with my parents while I'm in the position I'm in right now but I want to know a life in Canada too and experience Australia and NZ and I don't want to rush through any of it. I'm scared of seeing others age, of not knowing what I have when I have it. I'm scared that I don't really find myself pretty right now but it might be the prettiest I'll ever be, I'm scared of losing my physical abilities (but it's the one thing I feel like I do make the most of). I'm scared of losing people whether it's purely in presence or just losing touch. I want to take trains through mountains and drink coffee from Short Long Black everyday and I don't want burden my friends with my constant anxious state over everything and nothing at all. I don't want to be a source of second hand anxiety for others. I don't want people to feel like my presence is temporary, or for them to find me so insufferable that they enjoy knowing that my presence is temporary. I want people to know I love them. I want a hug from my mum. I don't know what to do about it. I'm very tired. 

2019 was wild, and I always knew it would be – I’d been planning on doing one of the internet “challenges” for years but could never find the motivation before. Posting a picture (or 10 lol) a day seemed like the best option, I can stand by it being one of the best things I’ve done, there’s something amazing about having a digital record, or photo album, of my year, and I honestly miss doing it (as much as I struggled towards the end of the year).
I should also preface this by saying I know no one really cared about it or truly cares about reading about it, but it meant a lot to me. It was one constant, it gave me a goal to work towards and it felt like something to be proud of – and it is! Looking back at all the places, faces and colours of the year just reinforces how grateful I am to have experienced it all. It’s funny to look at all the details and the funny wee things I would have probably forgotten about if I hadn’t got a pic or put it in the caption – but it’s also a reminder of how much I never talked about or shared.

365 days and more than 365 resulting pictures and videos still doesn’t tell you anything about friendships, relationships, falling asleep everywhere (and anywhere), seemingly unremarkable moments which have been etched into my memory as the best of my life. It doesn’t show first meetings, or reunions, it doesn’t capture the feeling of seeing your favourite songs live even if you try your hardest to express it by other means.

It doesn’t show late night conversations – whether just funny and anecdotal or those that reaffirm love and friendship. Or, the frustration behind long distance communication, and being unable to be there physically when someone might need you most. The fear of losing people because you’re not within their vicinity or that you have been too lost in your own head and busy life to maintain good consistent conversation (something I can see myself continuing to struggle with particularly in the next few months).

With the exception of a few days and a few captions, there is no real trace of the continuing feeling of emptiness and generally inadequacy that I've been going through for a while – something that has plagued me for too long considering how much that I know I’ve achieved – and with that, the fear that nothing will be enough to actually leave me satisfied (cue Hamilton).

What do I have to be proud of? A lot of things. Pushing my boundaries time and time again, whether it’s moving away from home twice within the space of 6 months and having to resettle in new friend groups, or trying things I had always sworn off. It’s putting yourself out there and going on adventures you couldn’t have imagined with people you didn’t know in the space of a couple of months. It’s falling in love with a city and it’s people on the other side of the world. It’s getting your dream job and letting the love of it pull you through the Florida heat and the anxieties of the time.

In terms of missed details? It’s weekly trips to Chick Fil A, it’s playing Walmart Bingo around BC and learning how to skateboard in the upper floor of one of them. It’s napping at bus stops, in taxis, in people’s living rooms, in lectures, in the library, on my own bedroom floor, and beside people you love. Gunning my first beer in the snow behind a Shoppers. Riding on a motorbike into (multiple) sunsets. The emotional rollercoaster of a trip to Dublin that I really wasn’t well enough to be on, but still loving spending time with some of my favourite people and seeing one of my musical HEROES just a few feet in front of me. Cycling home from a club in Nijmegen at 5.30am with no maps and only the vaguest idea of how to get home. Going to Amsterdam and napping for most of the day because of jet lag. CRYING at a video of James Charles at 8am on a train to Yosemite with my best friend. Cosy nights in with old and new friends. Walking through the sketchiest areas of Paris first thing on a Sunday morning because the Metro is closed and you just want to see the Eiffel Tower. Working 3 ridiculously early open shifts a week all semester. Taking up pole dancing, something I’ve wanted to do for YEARS but never had the courage. Getting braver with different outfits, and at least attempting to reclaim a love for my body that I both found and lost again in 2019.

The year was spectacular to the point of never being able to sum it up in one post, and I’m so happy to have been able to share the year with everyone who was willing to listen. It was something special.

Good luck to everyone in the new decade. Hoping 2020 is a year of growth and self-discovery, in the least cringey way possible – I want this to be a year of love for everyone and for myself.

Here's a different one.

This time last year I remember thinking about how my life would look a year from then, which is now. I was in a strange place in a lot of different ways - although I was in a relationship at the time, I still felt deeply unsettled and ultimately isolated, I spent a lot of time just feeling down and there aren't many pleasant thoughts that come to mind from that time period. I knew at the time that I was headed to Vancouver in January, and was nervous but relatively indifferent. I had reapplied and had my pre-screen interview for Disney World and after being let down about it in 2017, I kept my hopes at bay, leaving me with the same subtle nerves but relative indifference. All I knew was that there were so many ways life could go and so many ways that my life could change in the next year.

I had no idea how big an impact my experiences this year would have. The friends I've made, conquering life long fears about my body and general anxieties around food, achieving and completing some of my biggest dreams. I didn't know how easy it would be to fall in love with a city in the same way I fell in love with Vancouver and the people who showed me the best of the city. I was gifted with experiences that restored a lot of the self-worth I had gradually lost over time. There was a million sunsets, and beaches, and solo night runs around the same paths that became a huge comfort. I got to stand topless on a nude beach (with crippling body confidence issues, this never would have happened last year - and it was SO empowering). I was taught that I'm worth more than someone who couldn't remember the most basic details about me, and that I can be interesting and worth listening to.

My time in Disney World taught me that it's possible to squeeze every moment out of your day if you just push for it. There were no 'real' days off in the 2 and a half months I was there. Park in the morning, work until midnight, potentially go out afterwards. Orlando was my oyster, and Glasgow can be too over the next year. I gained a new appreciation for people who can't afford time off, people who need to stay constantly busy to stay afloat financially or to raise kids or just to keep themselves happy and occupied - I survived while I was there but the second I got home I began to crash from exhaustion I'm still dealing with 3 weeks later.

Now, I'm sitting on my bed, writing this blog after the same night time routine I've had for years. Nothing has changed, but everything has changed.

Despite trying to live in the moment and be as present as I was mentally able, I couldn't help look forward occasionally throughout the year, to think about what it would feel like to be in my current situation. For the first time in years I have nothing 'set' to look forward to. I started this month in Orlando, and came home to complete a road trip which kind of sadly wrapped up the best parts of my time in Vancouver (in the best possible way). Starting uni again this week didn't feel like a new beginning so much as the closing of a chapter, and it's been a tricky feeling to deal with. The urge to call this blog 'losing September' was strong but I know that I'm not losing as much as it feels like I am right now. I'd like to remember it for the good rather than the upsetting.

That being said - it IS a new beginning. Being home again gives me the chance to finish my degree, hopefully. I can now look forward to the future from the comfort of my own home, even if it's the last place I'd like to be right now. It's also confirmed my suspicions that my time in Canada was never really over when I left Vancouver. I'm itching to find the peace I found there once again, even if involves starting from the ground up in terms of having a new housing arrangement, new friends, new job and ultimately a new life there. Whether it be for only a year or two or longer.
Regardless - I'm excited to get started.

(Okay so after reading few a couple of my past blogs I've realised that these always come either from a really happy place or a really sad one and this year has been an emotional rollercoaster, I promise to try and provide at least some decent content after this one lol)
I’m writing this at the side of a pool, enveloped in glorious sunshine on arguably one of the most pleasant days weather-wise since I landed in Orlando over two months ago. I start every one of these blogs saying that I only ever tend to write when trying to unravel my thoughts and this is no different. This summer has been physically (for lack of a better word) one of the best of my life. Although I’d still call Christmas my favourite time of year, Summer is the time where I feel the most free, and I’ve found in recent years especially that sunshine improves my mood dramatically. I’ve spent the past 10 weeks in one of my favourite places on the planet, with so many wonderful friends, and getting paid to be here. Shifts were (very) long and the work not always as entertaining as you’d imagine working at Disney World would be, but it was still the best job I’ve had and will likely ever have again. Why then have I spent a good part of the past few months fraught with anxiety and allowed myself to feel progressively more isolated and trapped within a body I’m just not happy to be in? (Which is a complete contrast with the note I finished my last blog on, are we surprised? Not really.) It’s definitely not all to do with physical appearance although I’m very much aware that it plays a major role - but more to do with a lack of acceptance for who I am, how I think and handle situations. My ability to manage multiple friendships while balancing and working on individual relationships has deteriorated over time and what time and energy I used to spend dedicated to others is now being put towards nothing but the anxiety of losing people. It’s a vicious cycle. This blog isn’t intended to reap any kind of solution or result, but more to acknowledge a flaw in myself that demands my time and attention in the coming months as I resettle into some kind of normality - and hopefully to try to explain to anyone who has felt me slip away over the past year in particular. It’s time to take a step back and truly appreciate how privileged I am to have been living in a literal dream for the past 9 months. It's not every day (or year) that you can run around Epcot a few times before work, or just jump on Space Mountain, or tipsily SCREAM along to your favourite Disney World songs at Jellyrolls while laughing at incredibly niche Disney World humour with best friends that you practically live with. All this a couple months off the back of skiing, hiking, going to multiple improv comedy shows, coffee shop crawls and the most stress free exam period of my educational career. AND (??!!) I've traveled down California; hiked halfway up Yosemite Falls (next time I won't be too ill to do the whole thing, mark my words), climbed the hills of San Francisco, went to vintage/thrift shops on Haight-Ashbury, had lunch on Santa Monica Pier, managed to end up the Griffith Observatory 3/4 times in a 3/4 day period, and DISNEYLAND! The ORIGINAL!!! - all with my best friend (the best person on the planet). The idea of going home and dealing with everything that comes along with it is a nightmare right now, and it feels selfish to say it. Returning to normality means accepting and processing negative emotions, loneliness and grief that I've been lucky enough to be able to put in an 'out of sight, out of mind' position over the course of this year. I always knew this wouldn't last forever, and I think that is where a lot of the anxiety I've been feeling for the past while stems from. Uncertain about the feelings people have towards me, uncertain about how my life will look when I get home, uncertain about who will still be there. That all being said, on the same note as I left my last blog about being 21, I’m excited for the opportunity to try and better myself again, placing a bigger focus on my mental health, education, fitness and reconnecting with and empowering and supporting friends.