25 Is A Magic Number?

I don’t feel old until I realise I’m seriously taking beauty tips from someone who’s looking forward to celebrating their 21st birthday next month. Christ. And I ain’t getting any younger.

Days and moments like these I find myself experiencing a sort of panicky ‘life’s passing me by’ feeling in the pit of my stomach. What on earth am I doing wasting time, sitting around, drinking coffee? Why am I frequenting the same bars and restaurants I was aged 21? Why am I STILL here and feeling so bloody restless without any solid future plans? That sort of thing.

It doesn’t help that in the last 18 months my previously (predominantly) England-based family have, one-by-one, up and left me. They’ve not merely moved round the corner either. My parents have moved back across to the other side of the world and are now residing just north of Brisbane, Australia, which is conveniently closer to some of their relatives but frighteningly far away from me. I had no idea how much I’d miss them.

My little sister managed to land herself a sickeningly snazzy job with Emirates, jetsetting all over the place at the drop of a hat and earning eye-watering amounts of money doing so. She now lives in Dubai, land of Sheiks and millionaires, in an apartment she doesn’t have to pay for and with a chauffeur to drive her wherever she fancies. Usually the mall. Obviously that’s when she’s actually there, in Dubai, and not shopping in Milan, on safari in Kenya or riding quad bikes in New Zealand. The rest of the time the swanky free apartment just houses her ever-increasing collection of Louboutins and Louis Vuitton. It doesn’t help she also gets paid to fly to Aus every now and then, and pay a visit to the Mum and Dad I haven’t seen in over a year. Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of her. But it sure leaves me feeling less than cool.

After a rough day at work, with the British rain beating against the windows, with looming bills and other adult issues to deal with, I am quite often left wondering how on earth this happened! I was supposed to be the exciting sister, hell bent on living abroad again. I could deal with the money worries etc, they’re hardly new to me, but I don’t half miss the weather one experiences nearer the equator. This was only reinforced last year with a trip over to Thailand with my other half. Lovely warm Thailand.

I guess I’m just feeling a little trapped, dissatisfied with being in the UK, disenchanted with my career, and generally at a stagnant point in life at a time when it seems like big things are changing for everyone else. I don’t want to mope, and don’t get me wrong I’m ordinarily a very happy person. I’m fully aware of how lucky I am. But I’m worried that chances are passing me by and evidently the only person that can change that is me. If only it were that simple! If only I could make a list of people and convince them all to pack up their shit and start again elsewhere with me! This is of course the real reason I’ve not gone anywhere yet. There are simply people I don’t want to leave behind right now.

So I think I shall set myself a deadline. If by my next birthday nothing life-changing has dropped helpfully into my lap (I’m aware this sort of passive change is unlikely!) I WILL be instigating some major changes myself. That gives me 11 months to find a reason to leave and somewhere to go.

Watch out world, you have been warned!

20120326-111638 PM.jpg

Leave a Reply