This Time Last Year I Moved Into My Flat
So this time last year I moved into my flat. It was an impulse decision made directly after leaving my ex. I stuffed everything into miscellaneous boxes, house plants with mugs, crockery with books, pencils, paints and paperwork everywhere. The day came for me to pick up the keys from the estate agent, I had paid them all my savings that morning, swapped for 6 months of rent free bliss, a convalescence for my weary soul.
In this flat by the sea I unpacked not only my possessions but my entire emotional being. I looked into every space I had within my heart and soul. I have cried many tears in this flat, I have sat at my bathroom window smoking and manifesting and wishing for people to be kinder, money to be better, for relationships to stop hurting me, for parties to happen, for my heart to mend. I’ve written my diary until I’ve passed out, Ive drank coffee so I wouldn’t. I restarted my business, I restarted my life. Times have been so beautiful in this tiny home, I have appreciated it so much that when my 6 months came to an end I found myself wistfully wandering from room to room laying my hands on the walls and thanking it for being mine. I found my voice in this house, I learned deeply about myself and the control I have over who I do and don’t let into my heart. It feels so nice to feel so found, it’s like I’ve been hiding in other peoples lives for so long, always part of a set but never seen as a whole by myself. Even now I will catch myself doing the washing up, the radio on and sun coming through the windows ‘I am home’ I think ‘This is my house’ it is blissful and extraordinary. It is what I always wished for when I kept looking for my homes in people, I wished for a flat by the sea with a little dog and mismatched dinner plates and houseplants growing wildly and weird art on the walls. It’s all I ever wanted. I feel amazed that very soon I will have lived in this home for a whole year.
We are still getting used to eachother, the past few months have been the hardest, rent is so high and with little income I have found myself sliding into sadness, relying on pantries and food banks, friends and loved ones, it’s something I want to write so much about and how humbled I have been by the generosity of humans and how hard it can be to understand how to help yourself when the world feels heavy and complicated particularly when you have mental health to consider and a side note of ADHD to add to the mix. Sometimes it has felt like I am swimming against a tide and I somewhat wish to be carried just to see if that might be the route I need to take, rather than the more sensible (albeit more boring) option of getting a better paid job, or move home for awhile. Maybe slipping into the comfort of discomfort might be more interesting. How much I have learned about myself when my limits are pushed to their extremes, how strange it is to know I do not break. How I seem to find peace in resilience, oh but how much I have cried when everything seems to hard to understand.
Accepting help has been a hard one for me. Recently people have rallied around me, food being bought to me, friends paying for events for me for enjoy with them like I would have done long ago, a beautiful soul fixing my dishwasher. Other beautiful souls around me offering hands and hearts and help. Even strangers with a smile and simple kindness. All of this makes me want to cry, the beautiful embrace of friendship and love and nourishment. I am not used letting so much care and love into my skin, usually I wear it like a coat, sharing out my own love and care like currency at a casino, it being given to me like a loan with a high APR that I have no way of paying back.
I find it hard to get close to when love has been disguised before in favours and help and gifts. But how vulnerably I am trying again to reach out, how fragile my hands are to ask for help. I am usually the helper and very rarely the helpee. What a strange thing it is to be cared for, to actually let people in and fully see me, in all my emotions and all of the ways in which I feel worried to be seen. And you know it is beautiful. Terrifying. But so beautiful. I feel like I am being supported by such beautiful hearts, people who love me and care for me, people who want to help. It is so surreal to actively feel myself pulling away from the patterns and narratives I have created for myself, I can feel myself shyly saying ‘yes actually I would really like a cup of tea, I would really like company when I go shopping, please can you help me walk Phoebe today and can you make sure I remember that appointment I made’ it feels like I am finally leaning into my authentic self, letting my walls down, it’s not just happy Hollie all of the time, it’s all of my Hollie emotions all of the time. It feels wonderful. It feels like me.
This flat and me have been together for one year, a space accommodating my soul so beautifully, a space I have needed and dreamed about for so long. So much of me has changed. But so much is left to be discovered. It is the best impulsive choice I ever made. It saved me. It embraced me. Now I will embrace myself too.
I am home. I am my home.
Until next time darlings,
Love from
BITSIFIND
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