Here we go again! Another March, another birthday post. It’s become quite the tradition around here for me to lament the passing of yet another year of existing in this flesh prison and reflect on all the highs and lows.
Evidently, it’s another lockdown birthday for me! I’m secretly quite pleased about this since it saves me awkwardly enduring a chorus of birthday greetings at the office and instead just grinning through it on Google Meet instead.
While I do love a minimal amount of attention, I much prefer celebrating other people’s birthdays instead as opposed to myself. Not to toot my own horn, but I am a great gift giver. Other people, not so much. Unless you’re my parents who have had twenty-three years to suss me out and get the gift giving routine down, I’m probably going to dread receiving a present from you. Maybe it’s because I still have PTSD from the ex who bought me a bag of Wotsits crisps (not even a multi-pack, ladies and gents!) and a packet of Werther’s Originals for Valentine’s Day? Take that as your cautionary tale, gents!
Twenty-two was a weird chapter. A lot happened, but at the same time, it feels largely uneventful because I barely left my bedroom due to the pandemic. It was a very busy year and judging by how 2021 has been so far, I don’t think it’s going to slow down any time soon! I’ve been very fortunate to have a lot going on career-wise in the capital during this bleak time where people are being furloughed and losing their jobs, so I can’t be too mad that I have to take it easy on the Moët this evening in order to function in tomorrow’s meetings.
This is probably the first time in forever where I’m not entering another year of my life as dramatic or as depressed as the last. Gosh, maybe I am getting old! Don’t get me wrong, I’m still neurotic as hell, but when the pandemic was in its infancy this time last year and the idea of spending an entire year shut indoors seemed but a twinkle in Boris Johnson’s eye, I made it my mission to really work on trying to like myself. A billion tears and thousands of pounds in private therapy later and I think I’ve made some progress.
I’ll elaborate more on my ~self-esteem journey~ in another upcoming post as it’s quite a heavy topic and today is meant to be a celebration. Plus, I’ve got a whole backlog of #gifted outfits that I have yet to coordinate shoots for because of COVID and trying to slot shooting hours in amongst full-time work has been hectic, so that’s another reason why I’m holding off. Look, I said I wasn’t as miserable anymore, I never said I wasn’t still a little bit of narcissist!
I’ve had this blog for almost seven years which both amazes and frightens me. On the one hand, the cringe of my teen years and bad decisions are forever immortalised. Well, unless I stop paying for self-hosting… And on the other, it means getting a chance to actually see my progress. Not that I ever want to relive my posts from 2014 (And unless you like suffering, I advise you don’t either!), but knowing that I’ve been able to forge a whole career path out of being a shy teen penning book reviews after school is pretty neat. My writing has definitely improved and I’ve lost the chubby cheeks of my youth which made me a little bit less insecure, but it really did take seven years for me to find any sense of identity and self-belief. I’m very aware that I seem to promise that I’ll get better at the whole self-care and appreciation thing ever year and then it just spirals into a shitfest, but this feels like the first year where I’m a bit more accepting of myself and how I look.
Twenty-two got off a rough start and I’m glad to finally be finding happiness and a smidge of self-confidence at the beginning of twenty-three. Working in PR aside, there’s a few other important projects in the pipeline that are coming to fruition. I’ve (virtually) met some incredible people who I’m such awe of and I can’t wait to share more about it soon!
A massive thank you to my mother and to my friends, old and new, who have stuck with me and have both congratulated me on the successes that 2021 has already brought as well as being consistent shoulders to cry on in the last few years whenever something hasn’t gone to plan. Which, let’s be real, is 99.9% of the time.
Who really knows what this chapter of my existence will bring?
Maybe I’ll revisit my ill-fated primary school violin career (definitely not), maybe this will be the year I finally stop dating semi-relevant musicians (jury’s still out on that), or maybe the forever delayed #sponcon trip to Mykonos will happen (2022, anyone?).
Either way, I know I’m going into twenty-three with a far more positive mindset than in the past… Well, so long as I don’t fixate on the fact my Young Persons Railcard expires in two years and fall into a depressive dark hole about the fact I’m practically a senior citizen and should probably start planning a list of prospective care homes… The whole positivity thing is definitely a work-in-progress!
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