“Women need solitude in order to find again the true essence of themselves.”
Anne Morrow Lindbergh
I've had the intention of writing this post for some time now, but with humanity little by little stepping into isolation in a way reminiscent of a dystopian movie, this post is oddly on topic.
Perhaps it's isolation that gave me the time and mental space to sit down and write this. I'm on my third day of isolation, at a time when I want to be out enjoying spring and meeting friends and embracing life in a city where I haven't quite settled yet. But truthfully, I spent most of the winter in isolation.
Last September I reached a milestone, something which I always expected to happen earlier in life (at least before the age of 29), but life went down a different road. At an age when I expected to be married and a mother, instead my milestone was a rite of passage that I always longed to do before I had a family of my own: I moved into an apartment, by myself.
I hear some people don't like the idea of living alone, but for me it was always something I wanted to do, to spend a while living completely independently, with space to myself for reading and writing and creating, a space with my own mark on it. And while my mum asks every weekend if I'm going to go out and socialise, the truth is that after a busy week working with people it's nice to embrace the solitude, and I like to spend time in my home and enjoy my own company. It's a place where I can truly relax, take my time and recharge. If I want to eat dinner for breakfast and cake for dinner then I can. If I want to go out after work, nothing is stopping me. If I want to walk around wearing a ridiculous face mask, dance to cheese and sing terribly, there is no one to pass judgement. And if I want to write a blog post at one o'clock on a Tuesday morning, I can also do that.
Another thing people ask is “have you got a boyfriend yet?” But when I tell them that no, I don't want that right now, a lot of people look at me weird. I spent the larger part of a decade in and out of relationships, and while I am lucky to have shared some wonderful experiences with partners, right now I don't want to share my time or my space with another person. It's nice to just be me and do my own thing. Occasionally the thought of dating crosses my mind, and then when I think about how much time and effort I'd have to put in, I'm just not interested. Sure, relationships are nice, but I'm not ready for that again, not yet. And as someone who was always “in a relationship” or had just got out of a relationship, or was “with someone”, it's refreshing to have freedom to go where I want and do what I want, or just stay in.
When I look around my apartment, I see me. I see what I've worked for, what I've created. I see my tastes and the things I like. And I enjoy spending time here and getting to know myself. So while I'm on day 3 of isolation and a bit worried about being cut off from people for the next week, or maybe two, or three, I am also looking on the bright side. Being alone can be lonely, but it is also the perfect opportunity to connect with yourself, to know yourself and to do things that you can't do with another person present. And at the age of 29 I'm glad I'm finally able to do this thing for myself, before I no longer have the chance to do things for myself.
Stay safe and embrace the solitude, friends, because spending time with yourself can be the best way to get to know You.
Thanks for reading.
Berlin, Germany, March 2020
Showing posts with label dreams. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dreams. Show all posts
Tuesday, 17 March 2020
Sunday, 22 May 2016
Reading Material
We all have dreams, right? This is a bit silly, but one of my dreams from a young age was to have my own bookcase. This seems like a simple thing to want, but somehow we never had the space for me to have my own bookcase growing up.
A short while ago, my simple dream became a reality. I've been living with the future Mr for almost a year now (has it really been that long?) and we finally made that trip to Ikea to get a couple of their 7ft tall (ginormous!) bookcases. My behaviour, from going to Ikea to getting the furniture delivered and built, was that of a kid in a sweet shop. All my beautiful books, which have lived in boxes, wardrobes or split between my new home and my parents' place, now finally have their own home, where I can look at them, have them readily available and order how I please. A bibliophile's dream come true, right?
I read the usual books as a child, especially fantasy: Roald Dahl, Enid Blyton, Narnia, and of course, Harry Potter, which quite honestly changed my life. Following on from Harry, I sought out books to fill that Harry-sized hole, but eventually I fell into a reading slump. I had reached that awkward age where I felt too old for kid's books but thought that adult books must be boring. Perhaps now, with the abundance of YA on the shelves, things would have been different, but instead, my studies and my discovery of the internet took up most of my time.
Over a period of two or three years, the most riveting thing I read happened to be Twilight, until the final book of the series put me off for life. There was a stream of half-read books, pulp fiction that people told me to read, and books that had been given to me but that I just didn't bother with. Suddenly, the girl who loved to read had become a listless eighteen year old too interested in watching bad TV shows. I felt like I'd lost a big part of who I was.
It was in my final year at university when a chain of events took place that led me to want to rediscover myself and my interests, and the reader in me made a vow to finish every book I picked up, and that I would read all of the so-called classics. There were just too many lists of "books to read before you die" for me to carry on without delving deeper into the world of literature. And do you know what? Four years later there have only been two books I have abandoned. It's not a bad knock.
I also managed to put my time-wasting on the internet to good use. Tumblr turned out to be a good way to discover new reading material, as the sort of people I followed were fond of reblogging literary quotes and poetry, and discussed great literature regularly. My shelves gradually filled up with everything from the Brontës to the Beat Generation. Some books I liked, some I was indifferent to, some I absolutely adored. I have such a long reading list of books that have stood the test of time that it's difficult for me to incorporate more recently released works, but I managed to squeeze in a spot of YA along the way (The Hunger Games and The Fault in our Stars were perhaps the best, and the sort of books that can still appeal to someone who no longer takes much interest in teen fiction). I've probably only made a dent in the "books to read before you die", both classics and more modern treasures, but I can certainly say that my collection is slowly growing and great novels have been ticked off my list. So if you're in a similar situation to what I was in a few years ago, take a trip to your local thrift store and pick up a few books that catch your eye, or else check out bookish social media sites such as Goodreads (or Tumblr, or Pinterest, or search hashtags like #bookstagram over on Instagram). You may be surprised by what you find and be able to kickstart your reading habits again.
Happy reading :)
Hampshire, UK, May 2016
A short while ago, my simple dream became a reality. I've been living with the future Mr for almost a year now (has it really been that long?) and we finally made that trip to Ikea to get a couple of their 7ft tall (ginormous!) bookcases. My behaviour, from going to Ikea to getting the furniture delivered and built, was that of a kid in a sweet shop. All my beautiful books, which have lived in boxes, wardrobes or split between my new home and my parents' place, now finally have their own home, where I can look at them, have them readily available and order how I please. A bibliophile's dream come true, right?
I read the usual books as a child, especially fantasy: Roald Dahl, Enid Blyton, Narnia, and of course, Harry Potter, which quite honestly changed my life. Following on from Harry, I sought out books to fill that Harry-sized hole, but eventually I fell into a reading slump. I had reached that awkward age where I felt too old for kid's books but thought that adult books must be boring. Perhaps now, with the abundance of YA on the shelves, things would have been different, but instead, my studies and my discovery of the internet took up most of my time.
Over a period of two or three years, the most riveting thing I read happened to be Twilight, until the final book of the series put me off for life. There was a stream of half-read books, pulp fiction that people told me to read, and books that had been given to me but that I just didn't bother with. Suddenly, the girl who loved to read had become a listless eighteen year old too interested in watching bad TV shows. I felt like I'd lost a big part of who I was.
It was in my final year at university when a chain of events took place that led me to want to rediscover myself and my interests, and the reader in me made a vow to finish every book I picked up, and that I would read all of the so-called classics. There were just too many lists of "books to read before you die" for me to carry on without delving deeper into the world of literature. And do you know what? Four years later there have only been two books I have abandoned. It's not a bad knock.
I also managed to put my time-wasting on the internet to good use. Tumblr turned out to be a good way to discover new reading material, as the sort of people I followed were fond of reblogging literary quotes and poetry, and discussed great literature regularly. My shelves gradually filled up with everything from the Brontës to the Beat Generation. Some books I liked, some I was indifferent to, some I absolutely adored. I have such a long reading list of books that have stood the test of time that it's difficult for me to incorporate more recently released works, but I managed to squeeze in a spot of YA along the way (The Hunger Games and The Fault in our Stars were perhaps the best, and the sort of books that can still appeal to someone who no longer takes much interest in teen fiction). I've probably only made a dent in the "books to read before you die", both classics and more modern treasures, but I can certainly say that my collection is slowly growing and great novels have been ticked off my list. So if you're in a similar situation to what I was in a few years ago, take a trip to your local thrift store and pick up a few books that catch your eye, or else check out bookish social media sites such as Goodreads (or Tumblr, or Pinterest, or search hashtags like #bookstagram over on Instagram). You may be surprised by what you find and be able to kickstart your reading habits again.
Happy reading :)
Hampshire, UK, May 2016
Wednesday, 30 December 2015
Dreams for plans
It's that time of year when everyone is posting reviews of how their year has gone, and when it came to deciding what to write for my final post of 2015, I thought I would do the same. In fact, I felt obliged, but every time I considered it, it felt like a chore. A lot has happened this year, a lot of amazing, beautiful memories have been made, but I have also learned some valuable lessons, and one of them is to stop living in the past.
It's something I've done for a long time, looking back, and while I will continue to make a record of good moments and memories, I've also let the bad memories come back to haunt me too. There is always something I want to change or take back, but it's time I stopped thinking that way. I need to stop looking behind me, which is why I will be entering 2016 looking forward, making plans and living dreams and living in the moment with my loved ones.
So we'll get the review out of the way in a nice quick summary, a little paragraph where I tell you just how special 2015 has been to me. I spent the first half of it in Hamburg, Germany, fulfilling the little dream I was working towards since the first time I went to Germany back in 2011. I met some wonderful people (many of whom will surely be friends for life), learnt some beautiful and valuable life lessons and built up my German to the point where I now feel confident I can use it in a job. In the second part of the year I did a lot of moving around, but most importantly, I moved in with my partner, discovered a new city which I was very sad to leave, learnt I'm actually not that bad at cooking and worked a great deal on my writing. Before I knew it, September rolled around, and I ticked another dream off my bucket list with a visit to the Alhambra Palace in Granada, combined with a beautiful, relaxing holiday by the sea, where a certain somebody popped a certain question. I fell in love all over again, moved back to the place where I went to university (which also happens to be my fiancé's hometown) and launched into Christmas preparations. We bought our first Christmas tree (I'm like a kid at Christmas) and had a little fake Christmas on which I cooked a Christmas dinner I'm pretty proud of. And now, after spending Christmas itself with my family, I'm looking forward to welcoming the new year with all my nearest and dearest.
2016 has so much to offer. My new year's resolution is to get back into painting (I replenished my oils stock a few days ago with my Christmas money) and to continue work on my latest novel (and hopefully finish editing my last one). In April I am planning to revisit Hamburg and all the lovely people I met there. I am starting a new job at the end of January which will hopefully, finally be a step in the direction of the career I want and later in the year I will hopefully be ticking yet another item off the bucket list and having my dream trip around Italy. The planning for that holiday starts next week. Aside from that, we have a wedding to plan and money to save, and while I admit I buried my head in the sand for a while during the house move, it's definitely time to get the ball rolling on that front.
So I have a new year, a new home and a new job, basically, a whole fresh start. I have friends new and old to get in touch with and trips to go on and a life to plan, but I'll remember to leave room for plenty of spontaneity as well (in my experience, that's when the best memories are made). And I will stop looking back.
Happy New Year to you all!
Out with the old and in with the new :)
Hampshire, UK, December 2015
Friday, 26 June 2015
On Living the Dream
Around about ten years ago, I imagined that my life by 2015 would be quite different from what it has become. For a start, teenage me was a Francophile, and I dreamed of living in France. I imagined having a little provincial cottage, somewhere in the countryside but not too far from the city, with a flowery garden, an art room full of oil paintings and shelves upon shelves of books. I imagined being an independent woman, a successful translator or maybe, just maybe, a published author.
Of course, none of these things have happened. Francophile me turned into a Germanophile. Idealist me turned into a realist. And that independent young woman? She got a boyfriend.
I always was romantic. I couldn't wait to fall in love. But the image of me being a wife and mother always battled with the image of me being strong and independent. For a while, I saw no reason why I shouldn't have that ideal bachelorette dream for a few years and have a boyfriend. That was before I drove not one but several boyfriends up the wall by jetting off on semesters abroad and talking about my dreams of living overseas. I have been selfish, but I can't regret it. Few people have the chance to live their dreams and I was determined to take every opportunity handed to me. But when another person enters the equation, there comes a point when you have to make a compromise. And the agreement to compromise came when I realised I was finally tired of long-distance relationships.
It was about two years ago when I started to consider moving in with my partner. For a long time I had held on to that idea of having my own place, completely my own. But when I graduated university, went back to live with my parents and failed to land the dream job straight away, reality took a big bite. Today's economic situation isn't a friendly one for people looking to live alone. It's not even friendly for some couples wanting to live together. So when I finally let myself consider the possibility, I warmed to the idea. I had been with my partner long enough for it to be suitable, I knew he was secure and stable and would look after me if times were hard, and I figured it would be a great way to really get to know whether or not we are right for each other in the long run.
There was just one last thing I had to do before I took the plunge: spend a year in Germany. It was the one last selfish dream I had, the one shot at doing something by myself before I became one of a pair, and I knew I would regret it if I didn't do it. So I did it, and while at the end of my placement it hurt to tear myself away from a country I have come to love, I have now freed myself up to truly take any opportunity that comes my way, for the first time in my life.
As of two weeks ago, I am now living with my boyfriend in Norwich, UK. After we've been waiting for it for so long, the feeling hasn't really sunk in yet. It's partly because my biggest worry right now is finding a job, and job hunts tend to stop me from really enjoying things (I'm a worrier, oh dear). But little things remind me that it's finally happened, such as the objects I collected "for my home" finally making an appearance, the strange enjoyment of cooking dinner every evening (I don't usually like cooking) and the card from my family congratulating us on our first new home. Things will probably start to settle quite nicely when I finally get a job and we fall into a routine. The routine of our life.
It's not the dream I had ten years ago. I am yet to land the dream job, publish that novel still waiting to be edited and buy a pretty cottage in the countryside. But it's a dream my boyfriend and I have shared for the past two years, and we have other dreams, dreams that are slowly becoming plans. Dreams that might just become a reality, if we work hard enough.
It's enough for us, for now.
Norwich, UK, June 2015
Of course, none of these things have happened. Francophile me turned into a Germanophile. Idealist me turned into a realist. And that independent young woman? She got a boyfriend.
I always was romantic. I couldn't wait to fall in love. But the image of me being a wife and mother always battled with the image of me being strong and independent. For a while, I saw no reason why I shouldn't have that ideal bachelorette dream for a few years and have a boyfriend. That was before I drove not one but several boyfriends up the wall by jetting off on semesters abroad and talking about my dreams of living overseas. I have been selfish, but I can't regret it. Few people have the chance to live their dreams and I was determined to take every opportunity handed to me. But when another person enters the equation, there comes a point when you have to make a compromise. And the agreement to compromise came when I realised I was finally tired of long-distance relationships.
It was about two years ago when I started to consider moving in with my partner. For a long time I had held on to that idea of having my own place, completely my own. But when I graduated university, went back to live with my parents and failed to land the dream job straight away, reality took a big bite. Today's economic situation isn't a friendly one for people looking to live alone. It's not even friendly for some couples wanting to live together. So when I finally let myself consider the possibility, I warmed to the idea. I had been with my partner long enough for it to be suitable, I knew he was secure and stable and would look after me if times were hard, and I figured it would be a great way to really get to know whether or not we are right for each other in the long run.
There was just one last thing I had to do before I took the plunge: spend a year in Germany. It was the one last selfish dream I had, the one shot at doing something by myself before I became one of a pair, and I knew I would regret it if I didn't do it. So I did it, and while at the end of my placement it hurt to tear myself away from a country I have come to love, I have now freed myself up to truly take any opportunity that comes my way, for the first time in my life.
As of two weeks ago, I am now living with my boyfriend in Norwich, UK. After we've been waiting for it for so long, the feeling hasn't really sunk in yet. It's partly because my biggest worry right now is finding a job, and job hunts tend to stop me from really enjoying things (I'm a worrier, oh dear). But little things remind me that it's finally happened, such as the objects I collected "for my home" finally making an appearance, the strange enjoyment of cooking dinner every evening (I don't usually like cooking) and the card from my family congratulating us on our first new home. Things will probably start to settle quite nicely when I finally get a job and we fall into a routine. The routine of our life.
It's not the dream I had ten years ago. I am yet to land the dream job, publish that novel still waiting to be edited and buy a pretty cottage in the countryside. But it's a dream my boyfriend and I have shared for the past two years, and we have other dreams, dreams that are slowly becoming plans. Dreams that might just become a reality, if we work hard enough.
It's enough for us, for now.
Norwich, UK, June 2015
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