So, last night I cried.
But this is not news.
Last night I got a little bit drunk with my friends because I was already kind of sad, then ended up feeling worse but slightly tipsy, and so when I got into my room I put on my pyjamas, put in some earphones and listened to sad music whilst I cried ugly tears until I eventually went to sleep. From the hours of one thirty until three am, it felt like my world was ending.
But this morning I woke up. I begrudgingly got out of bed at eight, got dressed quickly, brushed my teeth, made myself porridge and drank one of those innocent smoothies because I am finally trying to be healthy. I even willingly bought brown bread and ate an avocado (there was melted cheese involved, but that’s beside the point). And after breakfast, I walked to my seminar, got there early and drank an entire bottle of water in the space of two hours.
My world, clearly, didn’t end.
Sometimes I wish my blog had more thrilling tales than the intrepid stories of self-recovery that I can actually offer, but this realisation feels quite big to me. Because for as horribly numb as I felt, as puffy and red as my eyes were and even though I couldn’t breathe out of my nose until nine am this morning, my world didn’t end. I got back out of bed and I’m getting on with my day.
In the fifties, the sub-culture of ‘teenagers’ emerged when young people no longer had to work from the age of twelve, and thus they had time to be weird and awkward and they had time to find themselves. But I haven’t just gone from being a ‘teenager’ to being an ‘adult’. I know that I’m in this different stage in between. The stage of the ‘student’.
I’m not a teenager anymore because I live on my own, and I’m taking care of myself with the occasional help. I do my own food shopping, as traumatic and stressful as that is.
But last night I was silently wishing that I could just hug my mum and cry into her shoulder whilst she stroked my hair and made me tea– so I’m really not quite an adult, either.
Yet here we are– I might not be an adult yet, but I’m one step closer because I think I may have just finally realised that life does go on. It’s my life, and I’ll cry if I want to. But after that, I’m going to right back to work.