I've written this a good 3 months ago and honestly didn't think that I'd ever publish it. Even though it's been a little while, I still can relate so much to every single word I've written down back then. So here we go... 

You can’t run away from problems. You can’t run away from feelings. You can’t run away from yourself and all the decisions you made. But if I learnt one thing over the past week it’s that sometimes, a bit of time and distance can work wonders.

The past year has been without a doubt one of the greatest years of my life. I’ve met so many incredible peoples, moved to my favourite city in the world and have finally started working on my childhood dream of becoming a fashion journalist. Yet, as you probably know if you’ve been keeping up with my blog, it has been quite a tough one as well. When I first moved away from home, I expected it to be hard. I knew that I didn't choose the easiest path and that I had to work hard if I really wanted to succeed.

But it wasn’t only all the work that I struggled with. It was so much more. I don’t really believe in destiny, but I do believe in life. And sometimes, life sucks. Shit happens. And once it happens, all you’ve got left is to decide how you’re going to react to it. 

While I feel like career and uni-wise I did pretty well so far for myself, I can resume everything that happened elsewise with one word: loss. Friends, family, relationships. I used to think that by the time you hit your 20s, you pretty much know who you are and what you want from life. I knew what I wanted from life since I was about 10. I lost myself in the process of going for it.

My life as I’ve known it started to fall apart over this year and instead of trying to figure stuff out, I did the complete opposite. I ran away. Every occasion I got, I went home. And I made some really bad choices. I compromised my principles. I started to work extensively, to a point where it wasn’t healthy anymore. It helped me to get closer to my dreams. And it helped me to forget my problems. But it didn't solve anything else and in the long run, it didn't help me to feel better about myself and my life.

I kept on having nightmares. Every single night, I would wake up at some point, confused and often crying. I was working pretty much full-time while trying to please everybody around me. I was trying to be there for everyone. Everyone except myself. And if somebody was asking me how I was doing, I’d lie to their face, saying I was okay. You can pretend that everything is alright as long as you don’t think or talk about it. As soon as you start talking, things get real. And I was afraid of realising what has happened, of having to face it. So I lied to everybody, but mostly to myself.

I’m currently in the Dominican Republic while I’m writing this. It’s 4.12 am and once again, I can’t sleep. It’s been the first week where I’ve allowed myself to not work, to think about nothing but myself and everything that has happened over the past year. And slowly but surely, I feel like everything that I tried to make myself believe is crumbling. I am starting to crumble. 

And you know what I realised? It’s alright. It’s okay to feel down, to be hurt, to cry and to talk. It’s okay to not have everything figured out; it's okay to not be “okay” all the time. Because sooner or later, everything that you’re trying to suppress is going to come back, or even worse, it’s going to haunt you during the night as long as you don’t allow yourself to process it during the day. Your problems will follow you no matter how far you run and how badly you try to bury them.

You know what I realised as well? It gets easier. No matter what you’re going through right now, it will get easier with time. You just have to allow yourself to feel the pain in the first place. Give yourself some time to heal, and trust me, miracles happen from the moment you decide to feel.



When I told my mum that I wanted to move to London and study Fashion Journalism, she told me that I've chosen a very lonely road, that I'd probably find very little friends and that my entire life would probably consist of work only.

I guess somewhere deep down I knew that she was right - I mean, mums are always right so why would this be an exception? And still, when it came to the point of moving, I was desperate to build a circle of friends that I could simply have fun with and talk to about everything at the same time. And it went all wrong.

I've been living in the UK now for a good one and a half year and let me tell you, I've never felt this lonely and lost in my entire life.

Career-wise, I can't complain. I've found an amazing job with the best boss one could wish for. I've met such incredibly talented and kind people. And unlike many others, I can honestly say that I look forward to every hour I get to spend at uni.

And yet, in the process of doing what I love and working to get where I want to be, I've completely lost myself. I say things I would've never said a year ago. I do things I'm more than ashamed of. And the more I try to hold on to the person I was/want to be, the more I lose sight of how to be that person.

Between refusing to feel and attempting to act normal, I've cracked. And I have no idea how to get out of this anymore. With every baby step I make in the right direction, I feel like some bigger force is pushing me three steps backwards. And I know that I can't blame anyone for this except myself.

I've been told so many times that it's so easy to lose yourself in this industry. Yet, the funny part about all of this is that this industry is the only stable thing in my life right now. The only time I am truly me is when I write. And the only time I am truly happy is when I'm so deep into work that the rest of the world becomes a complete blur.

And I've been functioning like that for the past year. I've worked through grief and sorrow, through sadness and anxiety. And I feel like right now it's all coming back and there's nothing I can do about it. No matter how hard I try to forget, to move on and to suppress, it somehow all comes up again. I get flashbacks at the most random times of the day, I lose control over things that couldn't matter less on the big scale of things. But somehow they matter to me - they matter more than they ever have.

I've grown up being told that showing emotions in public is showing weakness and that trusting people can and will probably be your downfall. And every time I thought that it's going to be different, I fell harder than the time before. Somehow, showing emotions seems to have become synonymous for giving people the authorisation to use you. Or at least, that's what has happened to me up until now every single time.

I believe that we always have some kind of choice - and if we chose the wrong thing, we have to own up to our decisions and live with the consequences. I've become pretty good at suppressing feelings in general in the meantime (sad? I know). The problem is, I forgot how to let it out in safe spaces at the same time...

Lesson of the day? Don't trust too much. Don't give too much. Don't expect too much. Because it's exactly that "too much" that's going to break you. No matter how strong you are, everyone needs to step back at some point and remember why they started. And everyone needs to let it out and acknowledge that not everything is perfect and that one's hurt from time to time. It's okay to cry, to feel and to grief. And it's okay to talk about it. You just have to remember the difference between "letting it out" to get over it and getting so caught up in talking about it that you lose sight of what really matters: you.
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