The show must go on.

All alone, or in two’s,
The ones who really love you
Walk up and down outside the wall.
Some hand in hand
And some gathered together in bands.
The bleeding hearts and artists
Make their stand.

And when they’ve given you their all
Some stagger and fall, after all it’s not easy
Banging your heart against some mad bugger’s wall.

– Outside The Wall, Pink Floyd

The smell of rose and amber shower gel. Cupboards full of donated plates, huge bags of pasta, Christmas leftovers and fake Pimms I can no longer drink. Twinkling lights on my mother’s Christmas tree, now placed between S’s desk and the huge Marshall amps; decorations passed down from my childhood, now belonging to me. Fudge cake in the fridge, and a shiny new Morphy Richards coffee machine sitting on the worktop. The ridiculously ornate mantelpiece covered in Christmas cards and candles, the bedroom lamps illuminating our Ikea bed and my beautiful dressing table. Roses and mistletoe arranged in glass milk bottles, and shelves filled with Discworld books.

My mother cried. She said this is what she always wanted for me. She admitted she never believed it would happen.


Christmas was wonderful; quiet and easy, without the usual stress of arranging the tree lights absolutely perfectly to calm my mother’s slight obsessions.

This is all so new to me, and I confess it’s a strange feeling, knowing I’ve reached a major life goal. Where was the fanfare, the confetti, the slaps on the back and heartfelt congratulations? Of course, life doesn’t work like that, and in a way I’m glad. It’s no secret that it’s taken me far longer to reach the basic life-targets than usual, and in a way I’d much prefer nobody knew that, at 28, this is the first time I’ve ever felt safe. The first time I’ve been able to have a relationship without ripping it apart at the seams. The first time I’ve moved out of my mother’s house and known I’ll never go back. Known that I’m not doing it just to escape. The first time I’ve been independent without breaking down and ending up in hospital or riding home in a police car.

In a way, it’s like losing your virginity. That first time you see yourself in a mirror afterwards, and you check your face for signs; of knowledge, of growing up, of, well, sex – finally reaching this point in my life should change me physically. There should be something in my eyes, some sort of peace. A difference. But there isn’t, they’re still the same ice-blue, and I’m almost disappointed by that. I’ve wanted this from the day I realised life wasn’t going to give me a smooth ride, shouldn’t something feel different?

Woman Looking at Reflection

You see, I’m worried I’ll take all this for granted. Becoming too used to a situation is… a problem of mine. Considering how terrified I am of losing everything I hold dear, I have an ability to forget to try. I stop making the effort, because it’s scary thinking of making the next step up. I’m very aware that what I have now – the flat, S, independence – all relies on me not going batshit crazy. For someone who breaks down at least once a year, it’s hard knowing that I have to put the effort in this time if I’m to keep what I’ve worked so hard to achieve. I can’t just sit back and let life pile up around me; it’s never worked in the past, so why would it work now?

I know; I’m analysing too much.

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  1. *hugs* I have a history of doing the same thing, the not-trying thing. It’s always felt, in my case at least, like exhaustion. I got tired of having to work so hard every day to achieve the little things, those parts of adult living that everyone else seemed to manage so easily like cleaning and taking out the recycling. I still have days like that, where I’m tired of dealing with the mundane and bury myself in my writing, but I’m slowly learning to deal with them.

    You’ll get there too. I think part of what will help is that you know what you have, that it’s wonderful but also that it takes work to maintain. Also, you did this, took this new situation in your life on, by running to something, not away from it. That can help too, because it means you’re keeping eyes forward, on the things coming, not looking back and running heedlessly ahead.

    I have faith. You’ll be okay. :)


    • You’re bang on with the exhaustion description; it’s exactly how I feel about it all. Adult life feels like a constant uphill slog and I can’t stop myself comparing my struggles to my peers; who all seem to cope wonderfully with the basics. It’s not that I’m lazy, I just… I don’t know really. I have no idea what causes it. It’s like I just stop trying without any conscious decision to do so.

      I think this is the first time I’ve actively run towards something with no intention of backing out further down the line. It’s a bit scary dragging myself away from the comfort of the past.

      Thank you <3


      • If it’s like it was for me, those basics just don’t come together in your head the way it seems to with others. Maybe they just make it look easier? Either way, I guess I’ve mostly learned to think around the problem and not beat myself up for not being like everyone else. I can only be me, right? Remember that only you can be you, and it’s a wonderful you.

        Comfort is nice, but scary can be the result of open horizons from which wonderful possibilities can approach. It’s a good thing sometimes, though that doesn’t make it any easier.


  2. This was a great reminder to myself not to over analyze! Coping wonderfully, I believe, is mostly an illusion. So many of us share your thoughts. For me, for the first time in my entire life, I entirely LOST the ability to cope for the past two years. It is hard to get back where I was. But then, I think, no, we don’t want to get back where we “were” – we want to be/do better than that… learn something that changes us for the better.Thank you for this, I just realized something about myself that bears staying cognizant of so that I don’t overwhelm me…if I can help it, lol. Happy New Year :)


  3. Yes, you are over analyzing! :) I’m glad you had a wonderful Christmas without the drama! And here’s to a New Year that carries more happiness and taking it one day at a time! In other words, don’t sweat the small stuff!


  4. I moved in with my boyfriend this year too. I am constantly waiting for the moment I see a change in myself, or the relationship takes a turn. I think sometimes we look too hard– life can actually be this good, and we can actually be this happy. :)
    HappyNew Year!


  5. you are the sweetest blogger. you write your story with others in mind, or so it seems. i like that. i’m the selfish blogger, always looking at posts as a way of expressing the things i’m not allowed to say out loud. anyway, happy new year! and, I just want to say thank-you for blogging.


  6. I’m 42 and still feel like I’ve never been safe and as for basic life targets, what are those again.

    “it’s hard knowing that I have to put the effort in this time if I’m to keep what I’ve worked so hard to achieve. I can’t just sit back and let life pile up around me”

    Thanks for the reminder.

    Be well & congratulations,


  7. Lots of love from snowy Maine. Overanalyzing — Maybe just a little! I will suggest the same thin g I always do — tell S about this falloff you experience, and recruit him to tell you if he sees it coming on. He loves you very much, I know — he will be happy to help, and that will immediately release any worry that you might scare him off. Trust that man — let him love you, and know who you really are. Good luck, honey!


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