On the bright side, I am not addicted to cocaine…

Ok so I’ve done nothing but complain about the human experience lately but let me be clear, I do realise that shit could be worse. I am, in fact, a very lucky girl. All the trials and tribulations of my twenties are just a normal part of the privileged life many of us are fortunate enough to be living.

With that in mind I’m trying to focus on the positives this week. And while all the big parts of my life are looking as bleak as the Northern Irish summer, I’m trying to find smiles in the veryĀ little things:

  1. Driving home from work yesterday with a view of the brightest rainbow I’ve ever seen
  2. Early nights (and sleep in general)
  3. Avocado toast
  4. My delectable Max Benjamin Coffee & Cardamom candle
  5. Puzzle books
  6. Clean bed sheets
  7. New shoes
  8. Fleetwood Mac
  9. Vogue, Harper’s Bazaar & ID magazine
  10. Hot chocolate
  11. Good eyebrows
  12. Dwarf hamsters. So. Fucking. Cute.
  13. Autumn
  14. Starry nights
  15. Champagne cocktails

There’s plenty to smile about (metaphorically of course – I suffer from chronic bitch face). What’s on your list?

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Last night while I was complaining (it’s what I do best!) to a friend that I feel as though I’m lagging behind everyone else in the race to the ‘having your shit together’ status, she was complaining of cold feet.

I don’t mean that she needed a pair of socks. She has life cold feet. While I’m feeling as though I’ve fallen behind my peers who have a decent job, a house, a husband etc., one of these very peers is wishing that life would slow down. Is it a curse of the twenty-something’s to always think the grass is greener on the other side?

As teens we both fantasised about our twenties. We imagined moving abroad, renting a stylish apartment together, being happy, sexy, confident women who have romantic flings with exotic men… It would be everything we always wanted, the time of our lives, our youth, our peak! Instead we ended up in this place called ‘reality’, where we are constantly worrying that we haven’t got our shit together, that we’re supposed to know what we’re doing by now, that we’re not keeping up, that life is moving too fast and we’re not ready to adult yet!

But years ago, when I was much younger, I remember asking my lovely mum what age she would go back to if she could choose. Assuming it would be between 18-21, the years I was then fantasising about, I was surprised when she answered with 30. She told me that her early 30s were when she finally felt like she knew what she was doing. She was still young and beautiful but she was no longer shy or insecure. She knew who she was, she knew what she wanted and she was finally confident and happy with herself.

So, everytime I get stressed about my twenties I like to remember that conversation and continue holding on hope for my thirties. I haven’t peaked yet, my climax is ahead of me and that’s something to be excited about.


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