This ain't a walk in the park.

on January being both optimistic and SHIT.

Photo by Will Paterson on Unsplash

I’ll be honest. January was a really mixed bag for me.

There were some true moments of joy and optimism, but always closely followed by a deep rolling sadness. A lovely reader recently commented on one of my newsletters that they had never read a more grounded text on breakups, that comment made me burst with gratitude. Thank you. I love that my writing evoked that for someone. But what followed was FUCK, I better write about the darker side of where I’m at right now. Truth is, I felt far from grounded the last month. I felt all over the place.

So let’s be real here: two things can exist at once.

Both can be utterly true. If you’re going through something big right now, I guess you already know that the path to healing is never linear. It’s got BIG peaks and troughs. One day I feel certain that I’m on the right track and the next day I am reduced to a sad shitty crumpled up state.

Just to make sure no one thinks I'm handling this with too much ease, let's take a moment to review how this month has really gone for me.

THE GOOD:

• I felt a deep knowing I was on the right path, and optimistic about the future.

• I felt excited about turning thirty.

• I journaled daily to get my thoughts out.

• I leant on my tarot cards for advice tapping into my spiritual side.

• I started a Substack wish excites me and brings me great joy.

• I started new hobbies to keep myself busy.

• I started therapy which feels huge and needed.

• I discovered parts of myself that I discarded or forgot about, and that’s been a beautiful experience.

• I genuinely enjoyed my alone time (coffees in the park alone are one of life’s greatest joys and I will die on that hill).

THE SHIT:

• I spent a lot of time sobbing in public places.

• I felt terrified about turning thirty.

• I barely ran this month (after a really good stint over the previous few weeks).

• I barely made it to yoga this month (I rely on this to keep me grounded).

• I binged on a family sized chocolate bar more times than I care to share (not joking, it must have averaged out to every other day).

• My sheets stayed unwashed, and piles of clothes covered my floor space.

• I ordered McDonalds to my bed more than once (that’s when you know it's bad, right?).

• I felt genuine heart aching grief from the space growing between me and my ex.

• I was hungover twice (from someone who has spent last two years basically sober - as I have a tendency to fall into unhealthy drinking patterns, this isn’t great considering we are a month into the year).

• Never felt more broke (from all my emotional shopping: I’ll write a post on this soon).

I started the year with good intentions, but I’d say by mid January I was hit with a tidal wave of sadness. It caught me off guard and hit me like a big red London bus.

From then onwards, I sort of sank into a pit of misery. I was days away from running out of clean pants and socks as I just couldn't muster the strength to do even the simplest of tasks like a clothes wash or even brush my teeth some nights.

While it is true, that I have kept myself busy in January; there has been a dark ugly stewing secret that is the pit that became my room. A depression pit, if you will. Where I could be my truest, saddest self when I got home. Where I could lay, and eat and just sit in the filth. The newness of the house has well and truly worn off, and the optimism of a new year well and truly over.

I started to notice the cracks appearing to an already shaky foundation. My legs have started to cease up from the desk set up in my room, where my legs are just that bit too squished in. I woke up the other night with a searing cramp so sharp it made me cry out in pain. It took days for my legs to feel normal again.

It turns out, one of my housemates is a racist and makes that clear in some of the comments he’s made recently. Too disgusting to type. Who the fuck am I living with? The shiny mask’s have worn off. Just the worst parts of people to be seen in the grey kitchen of a house that does not feel like a home.

There’s been a dark flat emptiness in me the past couple of weeks. Far from grounded. Sad, disgusted, scared, and lost. Then I got sick just to add the cherry on cake for the start of the year.

But today, as I write this: I am feeling much better.

I finally cleaned up my depression pit, changed my sheets and did a clothes wash. I lit a candle and tonight I am going to scrub my body with my fancy body scrub and wash away any remanence of illness and a shitty January.

My new year starts now, I know I’m late to the party but it’s okay. I am working on giving myself more grace. On not being so hard on myself.

So what have we learnt here?

• It’s not all as it seems. Writing is therapy for me, and I choose mostly to focus on the good. But that doesn’t mean that it’s going swimmingly for me - fuck me, far from. So if you are also going through it, just know that I get it.

• It’s okay to go one step forward and two steps back. Just keep moving. Eventually you (and I) will get there.

• It’s okay to be a messy human being. Metaphorically and literally. But changing your sheets will 100% make you feel better.

• It’s okay to be wading deep in the sadness for a bit, but you do eventually have to pull yourself out of it (if you can), tidy your shit up and get the fuck back to yoga.

I promise to always keep it real with you guys while I go through the ups and downs of this journey and I’m hoping we can ride the waves together.

Love you.

x