Despite graduating with a Writing Degree in the summer of 2016, for a long time now, and even whilst undertaking the dubious amounts of hard work and mental effort that the degree required, I just haven't felt inspired to write. Not just about fashion, but about anything. For years and years I used to pride myself on the fact that although I was suffering with anxiety and lived the life of a small town girl with daily activities that weren't particularly any more interesting than anybody else's, I was still able to express myself and my interests through writing. I was so passionate about absolutely everything in my late teens and early twenties - constantly inspired and developing new interests everyday; fascinations with different subcultures, eras, art movements, music and style that I was permanently excited about it. I suppose you could say that it was because I was finding myself, finding out who I truly was and where my interests lay. But for the past four years, nothing has sparked my interest strongly enough that I actually have something to say about it, and if it has, I haven't had the effort or motivation to actually get up off my bum and do something about it. Whatever creative abilities I once held were for some reason compressed in a very bored yet highly anxious mind, filled with self doubt and daily repetition, that made me very lifeless.
I haven't really spoken to anyone about this apart from a couple of people so it's difficult now having to write it on the internet, but after graduating, I hit a low point that I never truly thought I was capable of. Never in my life have I felt so lacking in absolutely everything, and what's worse was I didn't want to do anything about it. I didn't want to move, I didn't want to help myself, I just wanted to lie down and cry, until I eventually just withered away (I guess that's what I was hoping for, now I am not so sure what the general aim was). I felt sad and embarrassed because I didn't think I was capable of feeling like that, I didn't realise it was something that could so easily creep up on you. I just sort of thought 'why is this happening to me?'. I am sure many of you reading this will know the feeling I am explaining, and it is, quite frankly, extremely difficult to put in to words. Either way, I got myself up and I got help. Whether or not this had a psychosomatic effect is debatable, because I'm not sure that the people I got help from really understood my mindset, but after that point in time, I gradually decided something had to change. I did not want a life sat in an office in a busy city until I was 50 years old, with nothing to show for it other than name dropping at mundane cocktail parties and tickets to fashion week. I could see my life flashing before my eyes and panicked, big time. Working for a fashion brand/store/magazine was not what I actually wanted for a career, but instead just an interest I had. So, now what?
I got myself a job. I decided that (obviously) I needed some money behind me before I made any decisions about where I was going to live and what I was going to do with my life, because university made me absolutely penniless - as it does. I went over in my mind time and time again on what it was that I actually wanted to do next, and after months of deliberation, went back to the old drawing board, the thing that sparked my interest the most when I was only 13 years old, and decided I wanted to travel. I felt the need to experience a different culture, something different to my own, and I knew I had to do it before I turned the grand old age of 30. I didn't want to dig myself a hole by signing up to a mortgage, renting a property, falling in love, all the 'usual' things that society projects upon us as being the 'norm' within the western world that we live in. None of the above have ever, ever appealed to me in fact, and I've always known that my life would never be fulfilling if I perceived it as 'ordinary'. I also decided to eventually start my own business with my best friend; a combination of my interests and what some might perceive as 'talents', a project we had dabbled with for years & years but never found ourselves in the right situation to pursue it, until now. Watch this space.
So, here I am, six months down the line, I have a one way ticket to Australia, and I'll be living and working there for a year. Don't get me wrong, it took a lot of courage. Something I knew I had, but that was stored away and hadn't made an appearance since I was about 19 years old. I'm a home girl, my family are Italian, I had a very 'family orientated' upbringing and we're all very, very close. Moving away to the opposite side of the world for a year was something that made me highly anxious, and still does. But I am 26 years old, and need to find the part of me again that was buried away in my late teenage years that was outgoing, fearless, outspoken and courageous. I know that this experience will push me to my limits and that's something that excites me, and genuine excitement is something I haven't felt in years. I will be posting on this blog, which I made specifically to write in whilst I travel, so whoever wishes to, can read what I get up to, where I go, what I see, how I feel. When I write, I feel a sense of freedom and self expression that enables me to just let loose. So this is that, the beginning of the next adventure.
17 days to go.