A week off work…


I am on holiday.

A week off work… thank god! I love my job, honestly I do but you just need that break don’t you. Some time where you have no responsibilities, nobody is waiting for anything and you don’t have to keep that smile on your face right up until 4.30pm.

We are going away at the weekend, a little break to Glasgow before we have to start the slog all over again. I have found cute vintage shops, green museum gardens, steak houses, cabaret nights, beautiful bars… the list goes on. I am going to be in  heaven!

I decided the few days leading up to going away I was going to relax, slow down a bit, remember what it was like when I was 8 years old and the six week summer holidays felt like an eternity. I wanted that feeling. Sleeping in late and opening the curtains to BRIGHT LIGHT! Eating big breakfasts at 11am and staying in my pants till 3pm. Mooching around the house, maybe cleaning the bathroom or doing that thing I should have done last month. Read. Knit. Drink gin in the day time. Just be bloody indulgent.

The plans in my head were supposed to be executed without a hitch. I would just fall into this lifestyle of a retired millionaire with ease, realise this is who I am supposed to be after all… call work and quit!! It just wasn’t that simple though…

My beautiful brain. The gooey thing inside my skull that ticks ever so quietly in the background.

Saturday morning: I woke feeling groggy. I had a sadness right in the pit of my stomach, unexplainable, unreasonable, but very much there. Do I ignore it? Do I try to cover it up? Do I run and hide? FUCK! This wasn’t supposed to happen on the first day of my holiday! I was supposed to be bouncy, care free, millionaire-like.

Now this is new, it’s a whole new thing that has bubbled up over the past 6 months (is it my tablets, is it the weather, is it just me?) and I am finding it hard to explain all the things I don’t yet understand to my love. My love who only wants to see my smile and laugh. My love, who would do anything to make it better, tried so hard all day to turn my un-millionaire-like day into a sparkly first-day-of-summer-princess-unicorn-extraveganza!

But I couldn’t get there.

How do you explain that?

How do you say to someone, or even to yourself that today is a shit day, no reason why but it is shit. I want to curl up and over think everything. I want to be alone. I want you to hold me. I want my mum. I want to be 5 years old. I want to grow old and not have these worries anymore. I want to be numb. I want you to see inside my head. I want to pretend everything’s fine. Everything is fine. It is not fine.

In the end I drank two glasses of gin, grapefruit and tonic because I could no longer bare to listen to my own thoughts.

This happened again on Sunday.

And again on Monday.

Tuesday: We woke up at 10am. We ate a big breakfast of eggs, avocados, mushrooms, tomatoes, toast, tea and orange juice. I made the bed, and hoovered the two spare rooms because they haven’t been cleaned in months. I got dressed, and did my hair the way I like it, right on top of my head with big ringlets hanging down. I painted on my eyebrows, thick and brown, and used my new blush pink lip stain. I danced around the kitchen in my favourite bra and we kissed and talked about how in love we are. We drove an hour and fifteen to my grandma and grandads house in the moors. We laughed, drank so much tea and ate biscuits. My grandma taught my love how to knit and she piled our car with lampshades, cardigans and high waisted knickers that she thought she wanted but now doesn’t. I took hundreds of photos and videos of my grandad on all the snapchat filters, and I laughed at how much he laughed. We drove all the back home, listening to radio 1 and singing / car dancing to hip hop. We fell on the sofa, ate nachos and chilli and watched a film about McDonalds. I clutched my grandads hankie the whole day and fell asleep in my lovers soft arms still holding it.

It was the perfect holiday day. I was that 8 year old girl whose day lasted an eternity. I went all over my world and I dropped down in my big bed at the end of the day, exhausted but chattering about how lucky I am to have such beautiful people right here. I was that millionaire lady, retired, and content. It was my perfect holiday day.

Wednesday: One eye open… FINGERS CROSSED!


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