About anything and everything.
Sometimes I find entire word documents with just a sentence of something I noticed that day, it's ridiculous really.
I found this rather long one the other day though, which I no doubt meant to post as its so detailed, but probably didn't due to the fact that I was still a mess and there is heavy reference to me getting fired - not exactly something you want to share with the world right away.
Here's what went through my head in amongst it all;
(I'm unsure of the date, usually I'm a very good girl at dating my typed up crap but not this time... so start of November-ish)
***
I’ve been a mess in the past month.
Lets start from the start…. (Mostly for me to piece together a friends theory as to what the hell happened to me this year?)
When I was 18 I had to grow up pretty damn
quick.
One minute I was living at home, carefree
and loving life. The next my sole caretaker and loving father was killed by a heartless
pig of a man.
As his only child, I was smothered by
overbearing family members (with hearts of gold!) and wanting nothing more than
to make my own way and not need anyone.
A sense of independence came over me almost
instantly and I psychologically stepped away from my family and began building
my new life, on my own, restricted to myself, and the relationship I was in at
the time.
I didn’t want help from anyone, and to be
fair, didn’t really need it. I was a strong little fucker.
By the time I was 19, I had hit mental
maturity beyond my friends. Looking back, I was only focused on work then, I
hardly ever drank and when I did it wasn’t much.
I was focused and (semi)clear headed.
By this time my boyfriend and I had moved
back into the apartment I grew up in, just the two of us.
My sister Holly calls it the days when I
was married.
I had a stable job, was quickly eager to
step higher in the fashion industry faster. I knew what I wanted and I wanted
it fast. By the time I was 20 I was managing my own store for a big fashion
retail chain.
Most people I met thought I was older. My
friends outside my boyfriends and my immediate friends circle were generally
older, most didn’t even know my age for months and were shocked to find out I
was just a baby.
I remember being 19, and one of the girls I
worked with thinking for months that I was well over 25. Boy, that sticks.
Fast forward to 21.
I left that stable life to travel.
I left my perfect little home, my perfect boyfriend,
zippy little car and perfect salary paying job and disposable income to go and
see what else the world had for me. It was something I knew I would always do;
my dangerous case of wanderlust is no secret to anyone.
When I came home a year later things were
different.
I was different.
The thought of permanently unpacking and
moving back to my old mature life scared me. I had met myself as I should be
somewhere along the road. I didn’t want to go back to the beige wearing version
of myself I had left behind, but I didn’t know how to be my new self in my old
life.
So I ran.
All the way up to Airlie Beach to be
precise. And thus ended my 4 year relationship (at which point after, I ran to
Melbourne)
I feel like since then I’ve gone a bit
backwards.
I’m not in the least bit mature anymore. Everyone
who meets me now is shocked to find out that I’m 23, not 18 or 19. I drink and
party a hell of a lot more, am stupid with my money, don’t care much about
personal image anymore (as opposed to my very trend setting, label wearing,
platinum blonde, 19 year old self) hang out with a younger crowd at the best of
times and am unfocused and always coming up with a new plan on what I am going
to do next.
Its like I plummeted so hard into ‘growing
up’ when I lost my Dad, that now that my mind is clear again and I’m starting
to come to terms with it for real, that I’m making up for lost time.
23 isn’t exactly the greatest time to be
acting out like a 16 year old though.
It’s only been in the past couple of weeks
that I have really come to the realization that this is why I felt so full of
energy and steam, thanks to a well thought out theory from a close friend.
If only I came to the realization that a 23
year olds can’t afford to act childish.
Literally.
I got fired last week.
From the best job I have ever had in my
life.
For the better part of this year, I’ve been
working a backpacker hostel, in the bar.
I’ve discovered working in this kind of
environment is absolutely perfect for me. I got to be myself in my own working
environment, and when yourself is a free spirited closet gypsy girl who likes
to wear costumes and sparkles, trust me, that’s not always easily accepted.
But this place and everyone inside it took
you as you are and embraced it.
People who are traveling are free to be
themselves as they were meant to be, and me working in this environment, left
me to be inspired by them, and let my true self take over again.
I absolutely adored working at this place.
My job and the friends I made there meant
the world to me. They still do.
I got fired for losing my sense of good
decision-making. I let my own problems get in the way and, fitting to what I’d
recently discovered about myself, dealt with it in a rash and adolescent way.
It really is one of those things that you
feel sick thinking you could go back in time and take it all back. Self hate
and a bit of good ol’ fashioned self-destruction played a major role in the
days after...
Oh boy did they ever.
Let darkness reign...
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