For those that followed me on social media and have been on the email list since week 1, you will know that this blog started because of the dream trip to Paris that I was yet to experience. I decided to go to Paris on my own in fear that of waiting for someone to want to come along and do the same things as me, a lifetime would pass me by and I wouldn’t tick off my bucket list.
In the year since I last published on here, not a lot happened that deemed writing about for a while. England spent the first 6 months of the year in further COVID restrictions that led us up to June 21st – also known as “Freedom day”. Following shortly from that I began to go through a couple health issues of my own which are still ongoing. I have an operation at the end of November which I’m still toying with the idea of writing about.
There are some questionable people out there, and for that reason, I haven’t shared so much about my home life. Although I do a lot out and about solo, those that follow me on Instagram will know I certainly wasn’t single. You may remember the back of the head of a cheeky child with blonde hair, Tyler, and my partner, Warren, who I would often gush about for bringing me chocolate back from the shop.
Shortly before my trip to Paris, Warren and I decided to separate.
We were both at fault but only I can reflect and change myself based on my actions. From the beginning, I created this blog as encouragement for mainly women to safely navigate around the world and not feel held back if they didn’t have a partner or a friend to do it with or like me, who has different interests than them. There’s a thin line though that I lost sight of – between choosing to do things alone and coming across as though you want to be alone.
You can do things on your own, you can travel on your own and put your own goals as a priority but you can’t do that at a detriment to the person you love. You need to share what you want with them instead of being a closed book like me. I didn’t share enough with my partner, I didn’t even share this blog in fear of what he thought, forgetting that of course, he would love me regardless. If anything, he found this blog and it turns out he was really proud of me and loved reading it. Not sharing enough of myself with him is kind of why I stopped writing. I did things better and I kept at things when I had him to talk to about it because he may have been a pain in the ass but he was my biggest encouragement.
What is happiness?
When Warren and I called time on our relationship, I thought I was doing it in search of happiness. The pressures of my health made me feel scared that no one would put me first and that I needed to do it myself. I didn’t want to set an unrealistic expectation on someone else.
I thought I would find happiness in life experiences, my day-to-day, in seeing the world, in meeting new people, trying new food. The truth is none of that is any good if you don’t have someone to share that with. I got back from Paris and realised that it wasn’t what I did whenever I was away that made me fulfilled and happy, but the part where I came back home to the person who wanted to hear every detail and see every picture because they cared. The person who would let me ramble and talk about the history I had learnt while he boiled the kettle.
For me, that’s my happiness.