Arriving at the airport in Ibiza, ready to return to Edinburgh after an amazing week spent with my best friend on the paradise island that is Ibiza, it started to sink in. It was pretty slow, kind of like the feeling when you lean against a really hot radiator – you don’t immediately notice it, but then suddenly your arse is on fire.
The party is over, and we’re going back to real life.
I normally cope pretty well with this kind of thing, but I was about to find out this was going to be the Donald Trump of comedowns – ugly, filling me with dread and fear for the future, with the added bonus of bad hair and a sweaty face.
Our flight was late in the evening, and we were delayed. Typical. Never fly with Jet2. The two times I’ve travelled with them this year I was delayed and on one occasion landed at the wrong airport, a seven hour drive from where we were supposed to be in Bulgaria. The coach journey to get from Varna to Sofia ranks up there with the most terrifying experiences of my life.
We boarded our flight home and the exhaustion of seven days of debauchery and self-indulgence landed on top of me like a fat, drunk uncle. The struggle is real. When we landed in Edinburgh it was raining. Typical Scotland. Welcome home.
Like some shining beacon of hope, our most excellent friend picked us up, which I was very, very grateful for. Having to catch a bus and then find a taxi in the middle of a Friday night would have brought me to tears. This shining light was not to last though, and soon enough I was ejected into shitey lonely darkness.
On the way home, sat in the back of the car feeling a little bit nauseated from the journey, I ordered Chinese for one. Already sounds depressing doesn’t it? Well, nothing could have prepared me for how empty my flat was going to feel, even with my amazing dog there to welcome me home. (My brother had dropped her off shortly before I was getting back so I’d have company for the night – very thoughtful).
When you’ve spent a week living with your best friend, having an incredible time, making loads of new friends and soaking up the sun, coming home to an empty flat in cold, wet Edinburgh really doesn’t feel like ‘coming home’. I got in and felt like I was in a stranger’s flat. It didn’t even smell right. That night was pretty weird. I felt spaced out as it was. I was getting tearful. The fact that it was dark didn’t help – it felt like the middle of winter and everything was very surreal. I needed a hug. I love my dog, but I wanted someone to spoon me.
OK, let’s rewind a bit here and talk about what happened in the run-up to Ibiza. My partner left on June 25th to bugger off and work in paradise for the summer, leaving me in muggy, miserable Edinburgh. We didn’t really get a proper goodbye. To be honest, things with us had been bad anyway, and I think we were both in the mind-set that space would be good. In hindsight, we were probably pushing each other away over fear that the separation might destroy us.
The day before that, my Granddad passed away. My whole family were devastated. We have a family WhatsApp and there are a lot of us, so it got kind of intense and kept me very busy, taking my mind away from the fact my partner had left. The week after that was all about getting things organised for the funeral. I travelled to Cardiff for a few days. It was a really great send-off.
It wasn’t until I got back from the funeral that it sunk in – after Ibiza, I was pretty much going to be on my own for at least eight or nine weeks and I was suddenly going to have a lot of free time. Those few days leading up to Ibiza were pretty rough – I’d just spent loads of time surrounded by family so hadn’t had the opportunity to feel alone, but boy was it lonely when I got back to Edinburgh. And that was without the post-Ibiza comedown!
At that point though, there was a light. Ibiza was just round the corner. I poured all of my energy into getting psyched for that.
What. A. Week.
Unfortunately not to last.
Day one of being back from Ibiza felt like I had entered some kind of black-hole abyss. I had a lot of time on my hands. Right now my life is in this weird, volatile place where it feels like I’m inside a blender and the lid’s about to come flying off.
Being honest, I don’t know what the score is with my relationship. We’re technically on a break, and yes, it feels like an episode of friends, except this one is A LOT longer than thirty minutes long.
My job? Ok, I actually kind of like my job, but not the organisation I work for. Realistically there aren’t that many opportunities to progress. I don’t even know if this is who I want to be (can I get an AMEN from all my 20-somethings out there?!)
I might have something else lined up, but nothing is guaranteed and either way, whether I get it or not, there’s going to be some adjusting – either to a new work environment with new people and a totally different job – or to the fact that I’m going to be stuck in my current job for just a while longer.
Mental health? My life feels like the movie Groundhog Day. I’m not even sure I want to be a responsible adult yet. In my head there’s this little enigma telling me to run away and do something crazy, like becoming a scuba instructor in South East Asia or something.
I keep seeing 11:11 on the clock and a quick Google search tells me that’s supposedly the universe telling me I’m on the right path. WRONG. My path right now is a circle and I’m not staying on it any more. I need to re-evaluate my goals. I need to stop letting myself feel so damn hopeless, stop feeling sorry for myself, pull my finger out and come up with a plan.
Step 1? Start a blog. As they’d say down in the Westcountry, where I’m from, “yer tis”. (Here it is).
DISCLAIMER: I actually don’t know how this blog helps me to achieve anything. If you’ve read this and you’re like “holy crap, that’s me”, then maybe that’s something?
As for the rest? Well, the overhaul starts now. Me, version 2.0, the new and improved with a fresh outlook on life, is about to go into operation. I’m going to blog the journey. Join me and see what happens.
Updates to follow…