Ah, 2017. I, for one, have not been a huge fan of you.
Although you were kind enough not to kill any of my idols (I’m looking at you,
2016!) you haven’t been the best.
In many
ways, you were kind. I scored not one but two hole in ones playing crazy golf
with my mum whilst drunk. You let me find the most insanely gorgeous gold heeled
boots in the sale for £6. These two things alone were big achievements for me.
Unfortunately I will be calling you “The year anxiety fucked
me up the ass” (Soz, Mum!)
Being a born worrier and having the inability to let people
know how I actually feel about situations this year I have had lots of little
things stress me out that have spawned a ginormous dark cloud and I haven’t slept
properly in months. I’m a bit better than I was a few months ago. At one point I
couldn’t even eat properly and I just wanted to stay in bed all day. I didn’t.
every day I got up and I looked after my children and my husband and I went to
work and I cleaned the house and I did the shopping and I just got on with it but
it hasn’t been dealt with.
The doctor didn’t really listen to me when I said I needed
someone to talk to. To help decipher all the things I have swimming around my head and make sense of it all. Instead she just prescribed me
anti-depressants. I threw the prescription away and my husband got me Valyrian
steel tablets (okay they are actually called Valerian root but I prefer the Game of thrones reference as it makes me feel like Arya Stark) These tablets
smell like actual human poo. I shit you not. They are also massive and make me
heave and choke and they slightly dissolve and I taste that putrid poo-like
fusion in my repulsed mouth. I have been promised by my most trusted baes that my breath does not
smell of faeces. They also cost a million pounds a jar (Alright, £13 but
whatevs!)
So, without sounding like a twat I really do mean “New year,
new me.” I cannot go on the way I have been. The catalyst for this was the
beautiful woman that works in Cardiff’s branch of Lush. I went in there, intoxicated
by the glorious smells and the massive sign that said bath bombs 50% off and
after asking this woman advice on lotion I could use to try to help me sleep
and the best exfoliator for my patches of stress induced eczema that have
appeared on my legs and ribs she asked if I wanted an arm and hand massage. The
next ten minutes consisted of me holding back tears as she said to me “I hope
you don’t mind me saying but you are so, so tense, you need to try and relax
and you really need to look after yourself.”
I don’t look after myself, I look after everyone else. I
stretch myself as thin as I possibly can to accommodate my family, the
housework, earning money and trying my damned hardest of fulfilling my dream of
writing for a living. My days off work I have a choice. Write or housewife
duties. 9 out of 10 times I do the house wife duties because if I don’t it doesn’t
get done. I am putting my dreams and life on hold and to be honest I am fucking
sick of it.
I am a mum and a wife but I am also Nicki. I like to write, I
like to talk long solo walks listening to Placebo. I like to eat cheese. I like
to put on scenes from musicals on YouTube and do the dance routines (the
audition scene from A chorus line is my fave if you’re wondering) I like to
drive around singing power ballads really fucking loud. I like to go crabbing
in rock pools. I like to get a croissant and eat it in the car overlooking the
beach. Yet Nicki hasn’t been around for a long time and I miss her.
So this year is the year I find myself again. I am going to
try and be more selfish. I told my husband I’m going on a solo holiday at some
point (he looked absolutely horrified at the thought of this) I’m going to
write and write until the callous I have on my little finger bleeds all over
the place. I am channelling my Inner Dobby and no longer being a house elf. I am
going to take time to re-connect with old friends that will remind me of the
person I used to be.
Out of character though, I’m doing a 31 day vegan challenge
starting 9th January (I can’t start before that as I really want a
butterbeer ice cream at the Harry Potter studios, priorities!) I have to stop
with the cheese or I will actually turn into a block of cheddar.
I have a bullet journal (google it if you don’t know) full
of my goals for this year but the thing that I am going to work hardest at is
just being happy. Join me in exhaling the negative bullshit and wash it away
with fun and love. Care free, yolo vibes and lots and lots of pink gin.
Here’s to 2018 💕
