Prosecco for one

  Tonight, I opened the cold bottle of Prosecco that has been sitting in my fridge since my friend gifted it to me for my birthday over a week ago. I opened it for me, my-self, my hard work, the easy work, the smooth talking, the lost jobs, the panic attacks, the antidepressants, the drunken nights, the fun nights, the spontaneous tattoos, the nearly missed deadlines, the friends, the lovers, the enemies, the never ending changes and the nights and days and afternoons when I didn't want to be here anymore. 

  I raise a glass specifically to my bachelors degree, which I somehow managed to graduate with first degree honours. My mentor messaged me on the day of the result release, congratulating me on my achievements and the grade, so I never had the experience of anxiously waiting for my results, opening the page that always loads a little slower when its important, the rapid scrolling and triple reading the sentence to make sure you actually read it correctly. I received an unexpected message telling me that I have gotten a first, in both, my dissertation and therefore, my degree. And that was that, really. No celebrations, no family around, no excited cheers or big acknowledgements. I told the news to my closest people, got a few "congratulations" and "well done" over text and that was exactly as underwhelming as you'd imagine. I am not blaming the people around me, I am mourning the celebrations that never happened, and it hurts more because it's been a reoccurring theme in my life.. or maybe its just about managing your expectations. 

  Then, I also raise a glass for my twenty third birthday. The day started with many beautiful messages, I had a wonderful celebration, we boogied all night long to disco tunes, surrounded by my closest available friends (only real downside to having friends all across the world). But the feeling of missing something hasn't left, maybe its the fact that nobody sang 'Happy Birthday' or that I didn't get to blow out candles on a cake on my actual birthday, or maybe because it was another birthday spent without my mother. Then again, both me and her have chosen a life of solitude, at least from our mothers. Like mother, like daughter, but contrary to her, I don't plan to geographically return to my family, ever. That's a tough one to not feel guilty about. 

  And, finally, I raise a glass for my upcoming masters studies. I applied on Wednesday, got the unconditional offer on Friday, paid the astronomical deposit and suddenly I've got somewhere to be starting 27th September. I put applying off for so long, I missed most of the deadlines, I was "writing" my personal statement all summer, I fought over it with the people close to me, I heard angry "so what the hell is your plan then" more than once. Honestly, I didn't know what my plan was. I just wanted to make it to the next day without feeling like I didn't want to live anymore. There were no celebrations, once I got it, again, many many "well done" and "congratulations" on my phone screen, which didn't feel real. None of my achievements feel real, I don't feel like there is anything to demand credit for, no "real" reason to celebrate, "it is what it is, move on, stop burdening people with your insignificant happenings" is the internal dialogue. 

  That is the truth, ladies and gentlemen. What I hear most from you, readers of my life, is how much you like the raw-ness of my writing, so there is the absolute reality - I am drinking Prosecco alone in my room, to honour my achievements, because nobody else did and it makes me cry sad, self-pitying tears. It leaves me feeling a bit confused too, battling with myself over the validity, asking myself if I am just an entitled little brat or if I am allowed to feel this way, objectively. Because every jab at my current unemployment, my missing clarity for my future, my not perfectly fitting into the muster of how its supposed to be (although I think I'm hardly a rebel in any sense of the word) has made me feel less, close to nothing. Less of a human being because I don't want to end up living a fake life, unhappy and stuck. I hate LinkedIn for that very reason.

  The thought of not wanting to be here anymore is my best friend when I am feeling worthless. Such thoughts have been my trusted imaginary escape from all the situations that were too much to handle, asking too much of my energy and strength to act upon, since I was a child. In those moments I wish I had a me for myself. I wish I would be as unconditionally loving and giving to myself as I have been to nearly anyone who asked for it. I'm left listening, advising, solving everyone else's life, but my own. Sometimes I am so spent, that when my life takes a turn, I fall apart, burdening those closest to me, continuing to feel worse and worse because I can't pull myself out anymore. That isn't right, but how do you say "no" to those who need help? I'm learning, I have to, for the sake of my life, really. 

  In the grand scheme of things, it is peachy, though. I would dream about moving away after finishing school, studying at university, having my own place, getting a cat. I have all that, just different to how I had pictured it would happen, but thats a tale as old as the universe. This is a story of feeling like you aren't enough whatever you achieve or do, a story of sadness and emptiness. So, learn to manage your expectations is all I've got to pass on as advice. And don't let other people's expectations for you drive you to insanity.

  Till next time. 

  Cheers,

  Anna