Not to be my typical ~melodramatic~ self, but the final year of this decade has been a bigg’un. The last 365 days have featured 12 planes, 11 marathon-making runs, 10 cities, 8 airports, 5 countries, 4 travel buddies, 3 gigs, 2 flats, 1 tattoo, 0 £££, countless memories... and I guess my incredible boyfriend deserves a shout out, too. Yep, a pretty magical combination if you ask me.
But here comes the bad news. Despite the upbeat Instagram appearance and the constant smile painted across my face, 2019 hasn't been completely hunky-dory for me. In fact, it's has been one of the more difficult years of my adult life. I made the (some would say brave, others would say foolish) decision to unstitch my life and start afresh. After I'd done some soul searching (i.e. a one-woman trip around Italy) and the adrenaline had worn off, I felt quite deflated about my attempt at adulthood 2.0. Who was I? What was I going to do with my life? Where was I going to live? Let's call it a quarter-life crisis, eh.
Yet somehow, 8 months into this 'new' life of mine, I'm happy. Well and truly happy. Looking-like-I've-got-a-coat-hanger-in-my-mouth happy. Dancing-for-no-reason happy. Living-for-the-moment-and-not-the-future happy. It turns out my hunch was correct – everything happens for a reason, after all. When the clock rang midnight on December 31st, I had little to no idea who I really was. And beyond that, I wasn't a huge fan of what I did know about myself. But this New Year's Eve? I can honestly say that I love myself, which has made all the difference. I found myself, which meant that Jordan could find (and love) me.
2019, you’ve been one hell of a year. I'm leaving you stronger and fiercer than before, holding the hand of the man I love. Come @ me 2020.
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