A letter to my younger self.

Being a teenager shapes you in ways that are challenging to put in any form of sense. The phenomenon of becoming an adult in a social situation where you must manoeuvre the jeers in your face and the knives in your back is one that I feel is ironic. These years shape you into a rounded person eventually, if they do not break you in the meantime, and teach you ‘a thing or two’ about real life. They beat you on your thin skin to prepare you for adulthood, when you don’t have the hide to take the bullets, you hurt. 

I feel a sharp sense of jealousy for those who enjoyed and speak fondly of their younger years. I mean of course I had dear friends, those to which I shall forever be in debt for their kindness and conserving care for me. They were truly a shield to the battlefield which was my adolescence. They were a saving grace in what could other wise be described as, excuse my language, a true shit show. This is most certainly not a jibe at those who perhaps hurt me, because I most definitely reciprocated actions of contempt in a bid to survive. If I could go back and say I’m sorry I would, but that isn’t how it works. So I’m saying it now; for any disgruntlement and pain I may have caused you I’m truly sorry. I now live a life where, one microscopic layer at a time, I am trying to shed the complexity of social pressure in order to find my bliss and I hope you find peace as a young adult in the same way I have, devoid of blame and aggression. 

The social psychology of young teens is one I find utterly fascinating. I wish and hope the higher bodies of authority will find an appreciation for the need to take simple measures to ensure the mental wellbeing of young teens. Not only could this save vast costs in the long run on healthcare, we would have a much more positive and caring society which can only be an all-round win. 

I have come to wonder if children’s need to be so aggressive is a physiological need to protect themselves. On outwardly speaking in a demeaning manner to those around them, do they feel a sense of security on the basis that it is ‘eat or be eaten’ in the current young generation? There are many reasons I feel strongly about raising a level of awareness of why exactly it is so testing to be a teenager, particularly in the digital age. I am part of a youth community that are experiencing depression, anxiety and stress all at the hands of social media and the vast array of internet-enabled technology. Society has produced a hyper-connected generation that just can’t bare to be alone with their own thoughts, not even for a short while. The theft of the lightness of being young is one that deserves to be talked about.

***

My younger self, 

Know that your peers are cruel, not out of hate for you but a cocktail of hormones and social elasticity that has a hugely unpredictable temperament. Know that everybody is a product of their own genetics and we were not built to look and feel the same as one another, your body and your ability to think is a gift. Know that your purpose as a young adult is to have the luxury of enjoying the moment without commitment or stress, there will be plenty of time to be grown up. I promise. 

All the burdens you carried as products of social ambivalence that surrounded and swamped you, I wish I could have saved you from. I would pay a huge price to have placed the knowledge in front of you that you will turn around, stand up so incredibly tall and face all this with a deep breath. Your world will come to fit around you and your woes simply absolved by the people you meet, the places you travel and the gratitude you will develop. 

While you sit and wonder of your worth, be reminded that you are a living, breathing human being with a full bill of physical health. While you sit and analyse what goes by you as passes of doubt from others, be reminded that lack of compassion is bred by ignorance. Teach others the value of extending a kind hand despite your own prerequisite towards them. All the worries I know you had, all the troubles I know you faced, please know that I stand here now, as a young adult, and feel a sense of deep unsettlement that I couldn’t have gifted you with this information sooner; you’ll be ok little one, I vow that to you. Love yourself and love those around you, for it will see you as peaceful.

I love you and I wish I’d told you that more. 

PS. Braces aren't forever. 

Deepest kindnesses, 

Your 21 year old self. 

Summer Romance; does what it says on the label.

Heartbreak is a contradictory fate. 

People have the power to jar your willingness to give affection and lock it in its tracks. There is one particular affair, which I identify now as a ‘summer romance’, that still keeps me puzzled to this day. We planted our mutual interest in May. Our craze for each other sprouted in June, blossoming in July. Fully grown by August but tainted by the cold that rolled in come September. 

On observing this more objectively; what have I learned about summer romances? They certainly do what they say on the label. Ingest more than the recommended dose too quickly and you become addicted. Consume with caution.

After nearly a year of wondering what ‘went wrong’, this is my final account of the summer romance that left me questioning myself. 

***

We spoke for approximately 4 weeks before going on our first date. Having bonded over huge ambition for success in the corporate world, I was hungry to impress him of my power, sharing my ideas for advertising concepts and the marketing campaigns I devised, fuelled by a desire to convince him of my maturity. During my trip to Hong Kong I spent too much time daydreaming and re-reading his fanciful texts. We agreed even before meeting that we were no longer looking to see other people. Only now I realise this is a large mistake. How can you possibly know if somebody you have never before met in the flesh can truly satisfy you?

The painfully planned first date was underwhelming, but the pressure of commitment was already hooked under our skin. Prior to meeting him, I had been adamant I was unready to share my mind with somebody as you do during a relationship. I just was not equipped, but my interest in him stumped this logic. Perhaps it was nerves on the first occasion because these engrained feelings quickly sank to be ignored for the time being as I fell into the comfort blanket of his meticulous manner. It felt fulfilling to be cared for and looked after, which is a favour I had never been overly willing to accept from partners. If anything, my desire for independence had stifled and stamped down past relationships. The bliss of excitement was mistaken for the underlying bliss of comfort as we grew closer and, on the surface, the potential for ‘us’ grew. 

After three easygoing months of no need to question and label, there came an uncertainty that needed to be answered. From the utter of his words ‘I just don't know… I will need to think’, I knew I had lost my drive for myself. My fire returned from within the meek and passive person I had become. I immediately replied; ‘No, I won’t sit around and wait for you to decide’. I recognised then all the things that made us incompatible. Let me make this very clear, this is not a story of blame. At 21, I expect to be heartbroken many times more in my life because heartbreak, after all, directs us toward what we really want. The most valuable advice I have ever been given is a simple one but brings me much joy. 

‘Wish not for lighter burdens, but for a stronger back’. 

This simple quote takes away the need to find fault, and replaces it with an internal desire to be able to cope with anything which is thrown your way. Life isn’t cruel, it just does. There are the moments I see through rose tinted glasses; the city break trip, weekend barbecues and lazy days. The meals, the compliments and the hope for something grander. 

Then on re-evaluation there are the moments I see the benefits of our crossroads. Being questioned about my intent to eat ice cream in bed in hindsight should have been an indicator he was not the one for me. His anal habits regarding keeping things tidy, clean and in order largely opposed my scattered attitude to housework. He once tripped on a dress in what I considered to be an unordinarily organised floordrobe. I once saw these oppositions as something that made us fit together like puzzle pieces, when in fact this idealistic metaphor was my way of denying our differences.

Only now I realise I was stifled. In attempting to show a maturity of somebody 8 years older than me, I was silencing my youth and vitality. My creativity and passion for work became purely monetary ambition. I can’t think of a time where I rolled my head back and just laughed, I suffocated my silliness and goofy humour in order to appear like I was capable of being calm and collected. The truth is I am neither and nor do I want to be. Having quirks is a gift in life and they are what separate us from some and bring us closer to those who matter. 

I finally have the courage to disentangle the ropes of this sordid short romance and tie the pieces together in a way that makes sense before laying them down and permanently walking away. I say this not with anger but with a calm and cautious disposition; whether a relationship is casual or has the intensity of this said story, the honest agreement of the boundaries should always be noted and respected. When the boundaries are set you can allow yourself to fill your thoughts right up to the brim knowing where to stop and reign in the rest before the situation overflows, or until the situation changes or you change. The following italicised paragraphs I write directly to him in search of the closure I was rejected to gain, as addressing these conclusions indirectly does not serve the language jarringly enough; 

When I told you i ‘really like you’, which we both knew meant love, you agreed. Having been cut with your blunt knife I vow never to be cruel. Being truly cruel is not letting somebody go, it is caging them in a false sense of security and feeding them through the bars with affection. Freedom was at your discretion, not mine. Letting your body and words move in waves of lust while your gut was clearly wrenching, temporarily ignoring the ticking time bomb that was the inevitable end. 

I have questioned if you were even real. I have never seen you again. The last time we spoke we exchanged notions which coded down to love, from me anyway, you cried as we verbally initiated separation, then you were nowhere. You spilled into my life when I didn’t even really need you, I wasn’t experiencing drought. I didn’t require your downpour but you fell with a force that ensured I got caught in your rapids. You poured into every spare space in my mind and consumed me until a brightness found you, unknown to me, dried you up and in turn you evaporated from my life as quickly as that. 

You were older, much more settled into the parameters you set for your life and she fit into your foundations better than me. For this I am not angry, I was proud to have extended a feminist hand as my feelings of concern for her far outweighed the contempt for your actions. I found myself hoping I was purely collateral damage, praying she was not being woven into a similar web as I had. I now believe this is what they call ‘personal growth’. I would be lying if I said I did not have the odd day-dream of keying your car, but ultimately I hope you are treating her with the respect you denied me. I am young and full of aspirations that are yet to be explored, the timing was not right and the credentials for our longevity were limited even minus the infidelity. 

So I wish you well in love and life. Having experienced a passion that was not built to last I suppose I can only thank you for my first summer romance…and I hope you bought the boat. 

I felt resentment for far too long. I decided too quickly that I was his summer romance when in fact he needed reality. I realise perhaps I am descending from my promise of this being something other than blame, but considering the circumstances I am being generous in my kindness. You can never control another’s questionable judgement, particularly when it comes to your heart. My mistake however was blatantly clear, but much more innocent. From experience I can now say it is hugely unadvisable to melt into the cast of somebody else's desired mould. Don’t grant somebody full access to the switch that determines whether you experience happiness. You should guard that one carefully, but don’t forget to share. 

On looking at how my opinions have differed since I now realise it is ok to say he was my summer romance too, not a great love stopped in it’s tracks. Since taking different roads, I have discovered a passion for feminism, buddhism and mindfulness off the back of a trip to Thailand. These are the moments that I know we were not meant for each other. Had we gone to Thailand together, lets face it, the chances for life epiphanies and new perspective in a 5 star hotel are most likely inhibited.

For social reasons I strongly considered not publishing this piece but I find in my personal experience that I have sought immeasurable comfort in accounts of others honesty. Heartbreak is the mental equivalent of a straight jacket. You know it is so simple to remove but you aren’t quite sure how you will reach the buckles that essentially grant you your freedom. Every time you part ways with somebody you are becoming truer to yourself. There is no shame in refusing to settle. We all deserve somebody who is not only enamoured by us but wants to invest time in learning how our cogs turn and what makes us tick. I finally think I recognise this as the respect I did not ultimately receive during this summer romance. Respect can be seen in many ways. Politely listening as you recount the details of your day, letting you drive their sports car without insurance, not treating you as sexual object. All of these things can be viewed as respectful, but what I feel is missing is the acceptance of the way your mind works; your triggers, your humour, your passions. When your drive for life fuses with somebody else's this is something to be excited about, or so I imagine.

So to all those who have ever loved and lost, I now speak directly to you. You have the luxury of limitless space inside your head. Find what makes you want to live, not purely survive. I never considered the romance with myself as the most important love story of my lifetime, but it’s the one I’m never going to lose. You are a human being and you are precious. You are complex and you deserve somebody who is entirely fascinated by you. On creating yet another life lesson in my head as a healing technique for this experience, I now possess a certain quiet smugness. Facing the simple fact that there is no shame in loving yourself and recognising you have the power to be your own saviour from having your heart torn is true heroism. I can plainly say with nothing but confidence; being heartbroken is not a tragedy, it’s an opportunity. Go seize the day. 

Credit: Stewart Mitchell

The Sentiment of Misbehaving.

Location: Hvar, Croatia. 

***

The haze of the moonlight laced with alcohol had my mind and body craving mischief followed by a minor dose of debauchery. Dancing alone in a bar, while my friend took a more relaxed approach sipping cocktails with a rather intellectual group from Norway, triggered the the itch for something more memorable to follow. I flitted forcefully to the music as the sweat beaded across my brow. The twisted mess of my hair piled up didn't phase me as I was devoid of all interest to promote aesthetics. Turning to see a glimpse of the harbour, which boasted an army of white sail boats through the bar windows, was both endearing and terrifying. The thoughts which spelled consequence were quickly intimidated and buckled by a greater desire to feel that electrifying sense of vitality that wholly consumes you when you know your next move is to break the rules. 

Before I, or anybody else, could change my mind I was down to a black crop top and palm-print bikini bottoms teetering at the edge of the pier. The universe must have known what I was in for that night because a feeling of fate transpired. On failing to pack enough clean underwear, I had been forced to wear my bikini bottoms in lieu of knickers. Too willing to accept this as a sense of encouragement from a greater power I left my sandals and clothes behind, along with my inhibitions, and took a leap of faith into the closest row-boat. The thrill had started to consume me as I felt an overwhelming sense of confidence for my actions. This is the feeling of somebody who is so wonderfully close to breaking the film that covers conformity. 

I turned around to look at him, I looked up with eyes wide and I knew I didn't need to say a word. Before I could act, he was beside me in this tiny but substantial row-boat. The pier was buzzing with people and the atmosphere felt thick and calm, as far as I knew nobody was paying attention to us. Perhaps my tunnel vision for the apprehension of our closeness had blurred the existing background of this scene, leaving me only focused on him, the row-boat and I. 

I stood at the stern of the boat and looked out on the harbour. The water was resemblant of ink, with barely a ripple. The lights from the houses that gradiated up in hills over Hvar twinkled in the reflection of the water. Though it seemed pitch black, my surroundings were crystal clear. On taking a minute to accept my surroundings, I knew what was next. I twisted round to find him standing barely clad in only his boxers sporting a coy but amicably modest grin. 

'So you want to go in?' I asked in a sure manner with perfect stability. He took a step forward and opened his mouth to reply but before he could answer my all-too-rhetorical question I had slipped into the water with a quiet splash. The water felt cool on every inch of my body and I felt my senses increase and become more alert, lifting the intoxicated fog that had clouded my mind whilst standing in the warm air which promised no sign of a breeze. I felt droplets of water gently graze my cheek as he lowered himself into the water. This wasn't a reckless event, this was a careful tease for adventure. 

'You're a strong swimmer', he mentioned casually with a hint of intrigue. Perhaps he was wondering where else my strengths resided. 'I love the water, so I guess it comes naturally', I replied simply, as we both continued to swim further into the mass of boats which inhabited the bay. As we reached what felt like a maze with a dead end we began to tread water. We didn't know where we were trying to go. The dead end didn't frighten me but felt more like a natural resting point. It felt good to be still. Without any hint of anxiety he reached out through the water and held my upper arm in a firm but non-threatening grip. I barely knew this person, but my instincts pushed logic aside as I trusted his touch. We locked eyes almost if to begin an important conversation, but remained silent. The level of anticipation was certainly not dangerous, but was one that collected kindling within my mind, stable until ignited. I reached out to run my fingers along his jaw with my free hand, he was warm to the touch which seemed unusual considering we had been immersed in crisp water for at least half an hour. It then occurred to me that nor did I feel cold, the heat from the pure act of living so presently was apparently sustenance enough. I felt my chest rise and fall and my breaths become heavier as we continued to say with no words with what felt like a thousand. As my fingers moved round to the nape of his neck I moved with a caution, unsure of the boundaries. My silent questioning was answered as the water moved suddenly and I found myself pulled into his embrace. My heart rate rose and his hand gelled onto the small of my back as the water curled around us. 

A Platonic Romance

These words are a declaration about how ironic it feels to me that the friendships I have hold the greatest weight in my life, but they diffuse only upwards as light as air, moving with motions not of caution but of ease, beautifully free of fear. I made considerations to write this piece as a general example of the importance of friendships in order to hold accessibility to all readers. Then I weighed up what my gut was telling me to say and decided to make this personal. I hope that you will find a relatability within my gush of affection towards your own unique relationships. May they fill you with gratitude and make you smile.

***

Having spent 8 months in the library, most likely labouring to a hefty 30% productivity rate, I used the remaining time to grasp the lucrative opportunity of evaluating the 'things that really matter'. An emotional comfort in those times of anxiety where I was presented with the logic that should I fail my degree, by academias standards, I fail at life. Living independently from my family and being a single young woman, I found that my sanity was anchored in the support network provided by my close friendships. Not that I ever considered taking these relationships for granted, but it became quickly noticeable to all of us how rapidly the weave of our tight knit group strung tighter over these challenging months. From my personal experience, I never quite got into a routine. This meant that I clung to the work schedule of others, hoping to find my rhythm. There were those who preferred to work 9-5, there were those who worked late afternoon to midnight and finally there was one who worked through the depths of the night. As I promiscuously flitted between these allotted work periods, attempting to find my intellectual peak, there would always be somebody tasking through the workload available to offer calming advice. However grateful I am, I feel in debt to those who lent a kind hand to me as, throughout each and every report, project and exam we encountered, I was procrastinating and avoiding the assignment to the highest degree. So in an attempt to repay their kindness I hope I can manifest the accurate words to voice my gratitude (warning: poetic and heartfelt content). So here goes, a letter to each and every one of you. You know who you are.


Dear friends,

My inspiration for this, as always, comes from Lena Dunham. Her simple diagnosis of the close relationships between women are attributed instantly in my mind to you.

'I think about my best friendship as like a great romance of my young life'. 

This holds true, throughout the last year particularly. There has been tears, laughter and everything inbetween but the result has always been steady and humbling. I am not one to quickly trust fate as the explanation for a good thing but it appears too coincidental that we have been placed adjacently for no other apparent reason than to be friends. I am unafraid to be romantic or poetic when I say that I am the richest I have ever been in my life. When attempting to place a value on our friendship I find I am stopped in my tracks as the answer always calculates as priceless.

Every wrong thing I say isn't an example of my mistakes which linger on a list and get longer. They are simply said then evaporate, never to be used as a tool of ammunition to shock. For you to be a true and concrete friend to me has the utmost gravity in my life, keeping me grounded as I stumble through life perhaps more clumsily than others. My tendency to be too honest makes others squirm or provokes uncomfortable silences, you join in or laugh lightly. Though we may not always be on the same wavelength, I am never made to feel below you as you ultimately accept my individual brand of thought processes.

How lucky I find myself to not possess each of you, but to fit beside you effortlessly with no fear of intrusion. How lucky I find myself to know this feeling of absolution amongst human beings at only 21 years old. How lucky I find myself to be searching for a word to explain this phenomenon between us because 'friend' seems just inadequate in comparison to what you actually are to me.

If you feel just half of what I do for you, I will have achieved my greatest accomplishment. When life prescribes me trouble, you are the remedy always, and for that I thank you.

Graduation; The Conclusion For My Ideal Self?

Thoughts entwine and become fused as a sense of unease, uncertainty and, above all, liberation take over. The looming graduation has me reminiscing and questioning exactly what it is I have learned over the last 4 years. The answer to this question unfolds in the succeeding paragraphs and concludes with a lesson which is far more valuable than the reports, exams and resulting grades. I hope in reading this you will consider to take lessons from your actions and never regret having a change of heart or opinion for their standpoints ultimately shape who you are. 

***

Choosing an elective module in Applied Consumer Psychology as part of my final year of study was hugely fascinating to me. As it turns out, every action we ever partake in aids the internal search for our 'Ideal Self'. This unattainable and exotic concept is wonderfully separate and individual within each person, allowing us to imagine a desired notion of how we 'should' be. Whether you imagine yourself surrounded by family and friends, possessing a thriving career or, even more commonly, picturing yourself stepping foot inside a walk-in-wardrobe mirroring the likes of Carrie Bradshaw's, this 'ideal' view of your life as an endpoint is a sleek mistress. Will you ever grasp all of your dreams and tick everything off your list? No, of course not. The good news, however, is that there is a reason why you will never meet all of your current wishes. You CHANGE. 

This skewed concept of perfection as an end point is entirely puzzling. A theory where the goal is to work your fingers to the bone shaping and bending yourself to fit the desired mould and achieve your dreams, to then simply plateau for the rest of your days. At what point are you supposed to reach the top of the mountain and plant that flag of attainment upon all of your achievements? You simply can't. It's in our nature to never be wholly satisfied and we will continue to create a stream of goals for the rest of our days.  The confusing and contradictory nature of achieving the 'ideal self' has found me re-treaded my own outdated ideals in order to evaluate not how they have become invalid in my current life, but how they have constructed my new version of the 'ideal self'. 

The further back I claw, the more we witness embarrassing territory - I wanted to win the 'best dressed' award in the school yearbook, I wanted a vintage prom dress, I wanted blonde hair. None of which I can say I have under my belt. But embarrassment and cringe-worthy desires taught me a lesson. Not being voted best-dressed doesn't mean that fashion wasn't important to me, Not finding a vintage dress that fit didn't stop me finding a Topshop dress which still hangs with pride of place in my wardrobe, and last but not least; I have red hair, blonde ain't hap'nin. 

A few years later and wishful thinking had taken hostage my mind, pure fantasies still my closest glance to the haven that is the 'ideal self'. I saw a life grounded within in the luxurious glass walls of a Manhattan apartment overlooking the city, complete with house husband, where my life was embellished by events, elitism and power. Now that my (political) idealism has taken a swerve for the left, I am not ashamed of these desires. Had I not conjured a desire for a house husband how would I have reached the realisation that I am independent and fortunate enough to live in a society where this is possible in reference to equality, not a sick turn of the tables? Had I not travelled, I would not have realised that being superior in wealth and status is not as glamorous as it's painted on the likes of Gossip Girl, Made in Chelsea and countless others, nor does it give you simple vitality for life. I wouldn't have realised that I want to work, live and experience moments which open my mind to learn from people of all sexes, races and religions or even realised my passion and personal investment for equality, particularly provoking an active interest in feminism. 

Now? I graduate in a little under 2 months and there in front of me lies blank space. No task-lists or unrealistic goals which I must stretch myself to reach, where self-punishment is the only outcome of sub-standards. The canvas in-front of me is one which holds the opportunity to beautify and elaborate. Not shackled by the time frames of university terms. Not shackled by the pressure to get an internship. Not shackled by the undying pressure to be hyper-organised in a regimented world. It goes without saying that studying a subject which I was highly passionate about and working in the industry was invaluable to my growth both academically and personally, but this isn't to say that I don't see graduation day as a light at the end of a very restrictive tunnel. 

With zero intentions of seeming patronising, if I can lend anybody a little advice that certainly unburdened myself of pressure which only inhibited me, in this lifetime it is near impossible to live in your own fabrication of the 'ideal' life or self. Being so focused on what lies 10 years ahead without experiencing now is just not logical. Idealising your future life is an important part of motivating our determination to have a full and happy life, but the moment you pause your current existence to make way for idle day-dreaming is when you lose valuable time. 

My 'ideal self'? It has changed many times throughout my mere 4 years an an adult, but for the first time letting go of the should-be's and ought-to's to make way for a little current adventure, excitement and savouring of experience is the smartest thing I have ever done, and without even noticing, I am finally the closest I have ever been to who I want to be. 

Credit to Madeleine Darby for helping with the 'finishing touches'. Your suggestions were invaluable to the piece girl. x