Journal entry 23/06/2023: ‘The end of something is also the start of something new. Sometimes I worry about leaving London, at a time when so many people I know are there. I worry that I’ll never be so young, fun and surrounded by friends again in my life. However I have to recognise that despite being young in the city surrounded by friends, I have not been happy for some time. There is a beautiful optimism in leaving, in changing my physical location, an optimism that things could be different, that I could be different. That I could feel differently about myself.’
At the point where I left London, things were bad. I drank myself to blackout at my work leaving drinks, waking up to find my colleagues blood all over one of my pillowcases after she tripped walking from the uber to my house. I still have no idea what she was doing there given she lived in a totally different part of London. I felt anxious and frustrated that I had wasted a beautiful Friday in bed hungover. After a friend’s birthday brunch I sobbed on the phone to ER for 30 minutes, anxious that I had upset 2 of my other friends. Employing a therapy tactic, I addressed in my journal what I was believing in that moment: that I was unlikeable, difficult, cold and a burden. I described the self-loathing and anxiousness I felt the day after my leaving bbq with friends, despite not having drunk so much that I blacked out. I wrote that I “worried if I don’t give up drinking entirely that I will never find a middle ground or a way to drink sensibly”.
The idea to do a yachting season was borne out of an enjoyment of Below Deck during winter lockdown and a steady stream of yachting-related TikToks that had permeated my ‘for you page’. I’ve been extremely money-oriented since university (to examine another time), and the idea that I could kick off my ‘gap year’ with financial security and structure massively appealed to me, as these were key definitions of success as I knew it at that time
Despite showing up in Antibes in the middle of the Mediterranean season with zero experience, I secured a job within 2 weeks. I took the time with my therapist to celebrate that I was the one who drove this success. To reflect that my personality and skills had flourished in that fortnight and I had achieved something I set my mind to. To reflect on this achievement was a key step in learning to notice when I do something positive or achieve something, which has been an important first phase in rebuilding my self-esteem. Writing this, I acknowledge that phase two will be believing that I have value even when I am not doing or achieving, but merely when I am existing. More work to be done towards phase 2.
Due to the Below Deck phenomenon people ask me avidly about my yachting experience, so I’ve recalled it and reflected on it a lot. Yachting is long hours, with restricted freedom, where you eat, sleep, work and attempt to relax around the same, small group of people. It’s not for everyone. The work itself however is not difficult – my responsibilities were laundry, housekeeping and food & beverage service. For me the greatest initial impact was the relief from the pressure I had felt in my marketing job, that pulling myself out of bed in the early mornings was not nearly so hard when I did not feel so anxious about what the day would hold. I also loved to be on my feet all day, not sitting at a desk worrying about how to get my steps in for the day. My friends messaged about how funny it seemed that I could close all the fitness rings on my watch everyday whilst confined to a boat. I think that a career in yachting is not my life’s ambition, but the job and the environment allowed me to make some significant progress in my relationship with myself:
- I was working on a ‘dry boat’, which meant no drinking onboard at all for the crew. In addition to this my Chief Stew, who became my closest friend during the season, was not much of a drinker at all. After 3 weeks sober I was reflecting in my journal how stable I felt in myself and my energy compared to the high-low yo-yo of drinking, nights out and hangovers.
- My view of social media changed completely. I was no longer comparing my life to the lives of others, because my life and routine looked so completely different to anyone else’s back home in London that it was incomparable. Even more crucially, having removed myself from my friends completely, I was no longer using social media to see if my friends had been hanging out without inviting me. For years I had been using these occasions to reinforce my inner Critic, as evidence that my friends would rather hang out without me, because I am unlikeable. I describe it to my therapist as imposter syndrome in my friendships.
- I spent a lot of my time off on my own. My Chief Stew had her boyfriend to see during downtime, and my relationship with the rest of my crew was warm and professional, but we were not really friends. Our time off was also the only opportunity to have a break from the crew, and subsequently it was easier during this time to not seek company simply for the sake of it. Spending this free time on my own allowed me to further interrogate my relationship with alcohol and what motivated me to drink, and also to spend hours reflecting on my life and situation. I journaled pages and pages about my career, self-esteem, body image, money and thoughts around my future.
- During this time I started to journal more frequently to occupy my time alone. The more I wrote, the more I found myself reaching for my journal when I felt stressed, upset or anxious. This has been vital to help me grow the Observer within myself, to be able to acknowledge and question my thoughts and feelings, and prevent the Critic sitting steadfast in the driver’s seat.
- I was able to notice what I was missing about my old life, and what I wasn’t. When I found myself daydreaming about life in London, I didn’t picture myself going out for dinner and cocktails, though this is how I’d spent a vast majority of my disposable income and free time for close to 4 years. I found myself thinking about going to Arsenal games at the Emirates, spending time at home and decorating my flat, taking advantage of cheap theatre tickets and cool gyms. Enjoying chilled Sunday mornings at home with a book (I LONGED for a sofa on the boat, which did not have one for crew), enjoying events such as Notting Hill Carnival and Brighton Pride. For four years in London my social life had revolved around seeing as many of my friends as often as possible, which had resulted in dinner and drinks out at restaurants frequently 4-5 times a week. I recognised that this was a way of a) trying to outrun my loneliness and b) trying to influence how others see me, thinking that retaining such close contact would allow me to influence this more closely. The single moment of my yachting season where I really wished to be home and felt like I missed out? The final of the UEFA Womens’ Euro 2022, where England’s Lionesses stormed to victory in a raucous Wembley Stadium. It wasn’t that I felt I had missed out from going to the stadium or gathering in the pub with a specific group of friends. I longed for that feeling of connection, passion and excitement that comes from cheering on your team alongside a community of people united in a common goal. The Lionesses’ victory lingered in my mind for weeks after. I was fascinated by how inspiring it is to have a dream and to dedicate all you have towards achieving it. It cast me back to my days of ice-skating, how I too was once a young athlete with a dream, although it had been put away many years ago. I believe it was probably around this time that the theme of purpose and fulfilment in life started to move towards the centre stage in my consciousness.
One of my biggest therapy shifts to date came during the last month of my yachting season, after I had an argument with another member of the crew.
In summary, they snapped at me following a critical comment from the captain, after which their mood bounced back within 3 minutes and they were being playful and silly whilst I was still feeling upset. I asked if they were not going to apologise for snapping, at which point began a 2 minute tirade about how I was the bottom of the hierarchy and I needed to learn my place. It felt as though I were being told that the crew could speak to me however they wanted due to my junior position. Not only did I feel very upset to have been shouted at (something which I have never been able to stomach), but I felt completely disrespected.
For 3 days we didn’t speak, working around each other in silence whilst I felt anxious to the point of nausea. I burst into tears the moment I dialled into my session that week, sobbing that I wish I could be someone who didn’t care to be shouted at or who was more emotionally resilient in the face of a bad atmosphere. My therapist actually interrupted my outburst, which was very unusual, to call out the Critic as driving the dialogue. Together we discussed ‘what was the reality for me’ in the situation that had called the initial upset. I realised that, not only did my crew mate have zero insight into the depths of how I felt during that moment, my requesting an apology also made no space for her reality in that situation. I had always prided myself on being a direct, forthcoming and honest person, but in my rush to deal with the issue ‘directly’ – to ask for an apology because I was feeling hurt and upset – I was failing to have any compassion for the other person involved. I realised in this situation that learning to create space to assess situations and emotions and have compassion was not just was not only in my head, for my relationship with myself and my mental health, but was a skill I was learning to apply in all relationships and situations.
We also discussed how my walking around in silence feeling hurt was not inducing what I believed it would; that people would know, or care, that I was upset. I decided that another attempt to discuss the situation would be unhelpful due to the stubborn nature of my crewmate. Therefore I would make an active decision to put it behind me, to not let it get the better of me and to be my best, bright and chatty self with everyone upon returning from my session. I let go of the idea that being true, honest and authentic meant voicing every feeling and emotion for the other person and refusing to move on from an argument without apologies or discussion.
Within 10 minutes of being back onboard as my brightest, chattiest self I felt better, even going out to the shops and for a drink with that crewmember the following day.
As I logged into my subsequent session feeling light and positive, I wondered for a second whether my therapist would find me a bit erratic, swinging from a week of such low mood to such high mood. In that moment I realised how much we have the power to control our mood and how much our mood can affect how our week goes. I had decided to put the argument behind me and be my best self, and consequently I had had a great week in a great mood.
It wasn’t the first time I had discussed this concept with my therapist. Much earlier in the year I had seen a tiktok of Timothee Chalamet in which he said “life is coming from you, not at you”, and I had told her how much this has resonated with me. I had called upon this declaration to get me through my last months in marketing, but to experience the reality of the saying so acutely, turning my week of misery into a week of joy, was profound.
In October the yachting season ended, and I finally realised an ambition I had been holding onto for almost 8 years – I flew over to Australia. I felt armed by the shifts I had experienced over the past 4 months: a joy in drinking without being drunk, a foundation of self-esteem that allowed me to stop worrying so much what everyone else was thinking about me all the time, the reality of really enjoying and valuing alone time rather than trying to outrun feelings of loneliness, the motivation that I was seeking a purpose and sense of fulfilment in my life rather than going through the motions.
Given that I have moved abroad several times to practise foreign languages, and knowing (with hindsight) that these all turned out to be great, joyful experiences, I don’t think I gave much consideration to the prospect of ‘culture shock’ when coming to Australia. Despite meeting up with 2 locals on my first day in Sydney that I had met during an internship in Cologne, I felt instantly lonely. I planned to stay in Sydney for 2 months whilst I waited for a friend to join me and head up the east coast. I journaled about feeling nervous that I would be bored and lonely in Sydney for 2 months, that I was craving everything I had left behind in the UK: my friends, routine and a job. I reminded myself that I was in the driver’s seat, and that within 36 hours in Sydney I had been out exploring and met up with 2 friends – I was going to be totally fine. I made a list of some things I was interested to try:
- Cycling
- Dance
- Soccer
- Pole fit
- Bouldering
I also reflected on a longing in my heart to make some queer friends and find a community, a concept I have discussed with my therapist at length since.
Journal entry 28/11/2022 (end of my first week in Sydney): If I’m totally honest, I think I came to Australia because I believe that going travelling is a transformative experience, and I want to transform. Into someone who’s confident and happy in their skin, outgoing, busy with hobbies and things for themselves. I came here to get comfortable with myself.
By the end of my second week in Sydney, I had attended a pole fit class, met up with a friend I had not spoken to since Uni and enjoyed a night out at a Heaps Gay event in the CBD. I had even joined a casual 5-a-side football/soccer team, despite being so nervous before the first game that I thought I would bail even as I walked along the edge of the field. As I write this I am taking a moment to feel proud of myself. I threw myself into Sydney head first, and it’s been rewarding me ever since.
I decided to take a temporary, part-time role in a financial services company for my first month to bring in some extra cash. On paper the role fit all the criteria I had given the recruiter:
- Big company (to facilitate meeting people)
- Centrally based office
- Part-time, max three days
- $32/hour wage
- Administrative role – not stressful
On my third day, sipping my second coffee of the day, feeling lethargic post-lunch, whilst sitting at my desk on the computer I thought: I don’t like this. I don’t like this office environment, the sitting at a desk all day with limited freedom to get up and move around, to go and enjoy the nice weather and finish my work when it’s cloudy and raining. I realised that the fancy office with an amazing view of the harbour didn’t actually sweeten the deal. Context: in my London marketing role they had closed our cool east-London wework space and moved us all to a basement office in Hammersmith, which I had vocally opposed as a miserable place to work.
I noticed how lethargic I felt compared to my experience in yachting where I was on my feet and moving around all day. It dawned on me that I don’t want to end up back in London with a desk job that requires me to be attached to a computer 9-5, Monday-Friday.
This realisation is terrifying and liberating. I am liberated from browsing jobs marketing jobs in Sydney and London wondering if ‘that’s what I should do next’. I am free to wonder whether I will study again, and what I might study if I base the decision purely on interest and not worry about the future, career or money. This liberation allowed me to decide wholeheartedly that I wanted to do another yachting season in the mediterranean, where I can save for another period of downtime next winter if I want, and I can use my stress-free downtime to read and write, interests that have been growing ever stronger since I removed myself from my social-centred timetable in London. It’s brought me here to this blog, to indulge this interest I have to write despite that it doesn’t make me money, may have nothing to do with a career, that it may not be working towards anything specific. To just write for enjoyment.
Journal entry 28/12/2023: I suppose we cannot expect to come across something we yearn for without embracing change. Nothing changes if nothing changes. In London I felt unhappy and unfulfilled, I couldn’t see how a romantic relationship could ever find its way into my life, and I didn’t know how to leave the corporate grind and remain there. Leaving London has brought me new friends, allowed me to reconnect with old friends, a renewed self-confidence in my ability to make new friends, reconnection with childhood hobbies, confidence to get involved in a sport where I am not strongly skilled, renewed joy in going out alone and allowed me to embrace my favourite hobby (walking) in unfamiliar, beautiful places.