Sunsets & Dreams

So I am back in the land of blog, I know you have missed my random musings. Now I am in no doubt, that you know that I have just returned from a trip of a lifetime. You have been enjoying (or enduring) my constant Insta spamming of all things Maldivian over the last 10 days, so it only felt right that my first blog post back, should be about my latest adventure to paradise.  So, sit back, grab a cuppa and I’ll tell you about dreams coming true (I know, just bear with me).

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The home straight

I don’t know how this has happened, but I’m entering my final week in Jersey. The six weeks seemed like an optimum time to get some quality time with the family and catch up with friends, but now I’m in panic mode as I quickly do a mental note to see if there is anyone I’ve missed (at this point I’m really hoping I haven’t and they aren’t reading this thinking, Oi what about me!?).

I have had a wonderful time during this trip and feel like this has been a good session of mixing some chill time with lots of eating, drinking and catch ups. Seeing the family has been so special, as the last time we were together was an emotional and tragic time, so for us to be all together all eagerly anticipating the new arrival to our brood has been everything. I have been keeping up to date, via every social media outlet, with my fellow desert gals and they too seem to be having a great time, if not busy, touring round their home countries and reconnecting.

Square peg, round hole

From the moment we arrive on this earth, we seem to spend our lives being ushered between social groups, the mother’s choice of where she places the baby in the music tots class and what friends they make on the play mat seems to  lead to a predetermined path of where they will fit in. I have often wondered about how my life would have been if I had fallen into the an alternative social group and would the parallel universe me be any different, that Sliding Doors moment of every choice has fated us to be where we are today.

We have all seen those American teen, coming of age, high school movies, where the cheerleaders, jocks and geeks barely interact, as they have found social acceptance in their worlds and believe that it is better to befriend like-minded people, than give in to social suicide of not belonging and roaming the school corridor alone. We all watched and we all feared that this was real life, so the teenage me gave into the pressure and found a group of friends who accepted me and my school years were saved and I flew under the radar of being fairly unknown therefore avoiding many social nightmares. 

The good, the bad and the ugly

Like most women, I’m sure, we all have one of those days where everything seems to be harder than normal, we are emotional for no apparent reason and you just want to curl up and have a good cry. Now I know these days are completely normal and quite frankly more often than not hormone induced, but I have found since moving away that these moments of irrationality feel like the world is ending, albeit for  24/48 hours.

The expat life initially is an exciting one, as you dive head first into your new life abroad the adrenaline kicks in and you run out of the starting blocks with as much enthusiasm and determination as Usain Bolt. The honeymoon period of exploring and embracing all that is new, the euphoria of finding the perfect apartment, making new friends and establishing you have a decent Indian restaurant in the vicinity  settles you in for the long haul. The Skype calls back home are up beat, as you reassure your loved ones that you are fine and finding your feet, the Facebook posts of smiles and sunsets proving that you are living the dream and secretly hoping this sparks an ounce of jealousy back home. 

When doing “nothing” means everything

Around the world people are celebrating International Woman’s Day and it’s got me thinking about how far we have come. This could be a rather controversial post, yet I sometimes feel conflicted by the pressure to be a modern woman and my lifestyle choices.

Going to an all girls school we were consistently exposed to strong women, the feared matriarchal head mistress, who lived up to the Dickensian image of a boarding school spinster, who took pride over her girls. The 6ft wooden boards noting every Head Girl in the school’s 100 years gleaming back at you in gold italics, and the Houses named after the past century’s most celebrated women; Garrett Anderson, Nightingale, Cavell, Fry and Curie. My alumni produced doctors, teachers, lawyers and artists all making their way in the world as independent women, blazing ahead.