It’s been really liberating for me, separating myself from environments in which I do not thrive; the constant policing of my femininity (“What have you done to your hair?”), the underhand comments (“Try not to fuck it up”), the passive-aggressive behaviours ( “Oh, he’s still with you?!”) and frankly petty dramas akin to that of high school has been a breath of fresh air. My self-esteem has had a wondrous recovery and my mental health feels steady, I would even go so far as to say improved.
Just dwelling on it fuelled this horrid energy (I think it’s called resentment) is something I don’t feel anymore, it’s something I never wanted to feel. I watched The Good Place, and one quote that has always stuck with me is that “The point is: People improve when they get external love and support”, and it’s true, for the longest time I’ve felt stuck, unheard, and yes, I resented it. I’m angry that things I have worked so so hard for were not recognised, and I was not given equal access to opportunities my peers had. (I’m working on it in therapy.)
Withdrawing my energy from spaces in which I do not get energy or equal amounts of respect reciprocated has given me space to breathe, and time to spend with those who do reciprocate it. When talking to my therapist, she asked me what I ever got from these interactions? Love? Support? Did they accommodate my class different, taking into account the dramatic economic background between us? Did they even ask how they could adapt situations to make sure I can partake in them?
The answer to all of the above is no.
So, I’ve muted a lot of people. Not having to come face to face with tone-deaf messages of my middle-class peers has been a breath of relief. It hasn’t put me in a space where I get infuriated by their ignorance as they complain about their skiing holiday being taken cancelled.
This reminds me of a friend who first picked me up from London, and we were good friends, but we don’t speak anymore. He began to separate himself from spaces that didn’t serve him or reciprocate his idea of friendship. At first, I chastised it, I don’t think I “got it”. Now, I understand exactly what he was doing and really respect him for it. I wish I’d cottoned on sooner. It’s not that he didn’t like or love us a lot, but it’s that this particular space with these particular people were not right for him anymore, they didn’t allow him to grow. I was one of those people, and that’s something I quickly learnt to accept.
Returning home gave me immediate relief from the embarrassment of errors I made with intention, I fucked up with meaning. I didn’t apologise for it, I didn’t back down when I could have, instead I lit a match and watched the bridges that didn’t serve me burn. No one won, exactly, but I got to walk away and I made sure they heard me singing as I did. I won’t apologise for doing what I thought was right. I won’t apologise for anything, but that doesn’t mean I’m not still embarrassed by how I acted.
My full-time fun girl persona started to bleed into reality, the tragedy of this persona became an everyday presence. I didn’t enjoy being a shitshow, but people enjoyed reducing me to it. When you become the image you portray, it doesn’t do anyone any favours. That, among other things, was why I came home. I felt like I’d exhausted all outlets. I had. Or I burnt them down. I’m not sure. I had become someone I didn’t know; people say that’s why you get anxiety, because your actions aren’t in line with who you really are, they don’t resonate with your innate sense of self. This sentiment quickly collided with returning and entering a place that is stunted and this sense of resentment resurfaced.
The social lives of my peers here similarly don’t hold similar values to me; returning gave me safety, love, a loose sense of friendship until with the seasons they retreated into their nuclear normality I don’t fall into. Once you find your people, it’s easy to spot those that aren’t. Similarly, when you spot your people, you see traits in others that are similar to them, and try and carve out a space for people that nearly fit it. Sometimes you find they do, but not quite, and other times you feel as though they were pretending. I guess what I’m saying is you should trust your intuition. Listen to your energy after you leave people.
Yesterday I spoke to my best friend for two hours, and I was smiling for the rest of the day. A week prior I was talking to three of my close friends from University who became scattered to the wind and I found myself laughing with unabashed joy as I felt heard, and seen and experienced a collective joy. Those people breathe life and light into my life and I hope that I can find more people like that.
I think that was the lure of London, the improbable off-chance you will bump into one of your own and find a kinship based in the vacuum of the capital. I’m not saying I didn’t feel lonely in London, it’s a big grey city and you can easily get lost in the big smoke. I’m not saying I don’t feel lonely now, I do. But I know where my people are, and this time away from exhaustible spaces has given me opportunity to reflect, to let myself gravitate towards spaces that do allow me growth. It’s given me time to cultivate good energy and re-focus where I need to be by showing me exactly where I don’t.
Maybe I’m tone deaf, but I’m just trying to find an upside in this working class mire of financial insecurity and moment of great uncertainty. Reflecting is something I feel I can do now safely, with the help of my therapist, it’s allowing me to analyse my own behaviours and try and bring back that soft sense of kindness and lust for life I have, but sometimes can’t feel under the muck of the everyday. I hope this time brings you some sense of relief, or peace, or invaluable time to dedicate to whatever.you.want.
Stay safe and sane my cool cats and kittens,
xoxo,
natty
PIP 