Let’s talk about March shall we?
I began March in Lille, a city in the north of France. Lille is very close to the Belgium border and it’s pronounced like eel if it began with an L, who knew? I certainly didn’t when I walked into the International Hub at university and announced I wanted to go on the mini Erasmus trip to ‘lily’. It was basically a trip to give us students a taste of what it would be like to study abroad. Whilst at the university in Lille all 17 of us found out that none of us could actually study in Lille for numerous different reasons, e.g. they didn’t teach Psychology in English. Upon returning to university in Liverpool I discovered I actually can’t study abroad at all because there is nowhere that matches the credits required for Creative Writing. Party. Never the less the short four-day trip to Lille was fun despite a rocky start.
I got absolutely rotten on the first night and my friend and her new French lover had to take me back to the hotel in an Uber. You know when you’re really drunk and the room is spinning? Well it was that level of drunk but the room was a tiny hotel room and it was also upside down. I woke up at 5am extremely dehydrated and distressed because my phone was not in its usual spot – my hand. I tore the room apart and came to the conclusion I must have dropped in the Uber. In my still drunken state and with the aid of my friend I managed to use the ‘Find my phone’ app to leave a message on my phone informing the phone-napper of my whereabouts and a number to call to reach me. I also navigated the very complicated uber website to the hound the driver, Adel, with several unanswered calls.
Fast forward 12 hours and I was in bloody Belgium having one long anxiety attack. There had been no update and no one was answering my phone which was still turned on. According to the ‘Find my phone’ app it was being held hostage in an apartment block on some street with an Aldi on it. To add to the stressful situation no one had given me a heads up we were leaving the freaking country for a day trip, apparently we were supposed to know from the fact some museum in Flanders was on the itinerary but Geography has never been my strong point. I recently found out Cyrpus is a country and not the capital of Greece. That would be Athens. We spent the whole day in Belgium museums learning about some war and visited a graveyard where a load of soldiers were buried. It must have been very sad but I wasn’t mentally present and as far as I was concerned the war was in the past and we all needed to focus on present problems by calling the local Lille emergency services and news stations to help me get my phone back.
Just when I had given up all hope that I would ever see my phone again because it had been stolen by a psychotic uber driver that was going to upload my nudes to my Facebook, my friend convinced me to call it one more time. An angel answered. Sarra was a beautiful French girl who spoke fluent English, she found my phone in the uber and didn’t want to give it to the driver because she didn’t think he would return it. Adel must have looked shifty, apparently he kept asking if I was going to throw up when in his car so I never really liked the sound of him from the beginning.
We eventually returned to Lille and I ordered an uber to go and pick my phone up from Sarra’s house. For some reason everyone was convinced Sarra was a murderer luring me into a trap so one of the university staff had to accompany me. We passed two really bad car crashes on the way so part of me did think that maybe I was going to die but I didn’t really care and well here I am so I obviously didn’t. Sarra and her boyfriend were both absolutely gorgeous and they wouldn’t accept any money as a thank you. I got a bit emotional and hugged them because I was feeling truly #blessed. Also grateful because I really needed the €20 for myself.
It was a traumatic day but it had a happy ending. I learnt a lot about myself, like I really do have an unhealthy attachment to my phone that probably developed when I was depressed and living in Spain. Oh well, I could have an unhealthy attachment to heroin so I guess it could always be worse.
I returned from Lille optimistic about life. That optimism probably lasted about 5 minutes. Whenever I go on holiday I don’t think I’m particularly bothered about the place I’m in, it’s the 24-hour company I enjoy. When you’re on holiday you’re not worrying about work or real life problems, you’re just hanging out with people you like all day and all night and that is literally the only thing I’m good at. I just love telling people stories and making people laugh. Laughter is instant gratification and works wonders for my self-esteem. On the train from London to Liverpool it sunk in that I was about to lose that constant gratification and the only person I would be spending the next 24 hours with was the person I hate most in this world, myself.
Shit has really hit the fan in March. I’ve quit my stupid, fucking job in the call centre. I had a mini meltdown in a return to work meeting with my manager. I was honest, I told him how depressed I was and that the job was only making me feel worse. Then I cried. I am the type of person who moans constantly about their problems yet doesn’t actually do anything to fix them, but I am not the type of person to cry about them. I just don’t cry ever. Maybe it’s true that boys don’t cry or maybe I’m just too scared to cry because I don’t think I’ll ever stop if I start. Either way that was the sign I needed to say enough was enough.
Please don’t ask me what I’m going to do moving forward or give me your unwanted criticism about how I need to get in ‘the real world’ and hold a job down because right now I couldn’t give less of a fuck. Plus, Diane and Ray will be on hand with enough unwanted criticism to cover everyone when they eventually find out. I’ll drop the bomb when I’ve finished working my notice which just so conveniently is around the same time as Mother’s day, the one-year anniversary of my nan’s death and Ray’s birthday. Happy birthday daddy! P.S. congratulations on raising an absolute fuck-up xxxx
Uni has kind of fell apart too. I’ve pretty much lost all interest and motivation. I have six assignments due in in four days. Have I started any? Nope. Have I filled out the forms for an extension? Nope, but to be fair they are very overwhelming and like 10 pages long. I’m not sure what evidence to supply for being depressed as fuck either. I guess I could get one due to my physical health. Due to some ongoing health problems I recently got Eiffel-towered by two cameras in a hospital in Warrington, not a hospital in Walton which is an easy mistake to make. A mistake that will make you over an hour late for your appointment. Well maybe it would only make you half an hour late if you don’t hold the phone you’re using for a map upside down. It was a stressful yet hilarious situation that I feared was going to drive my driver, a.k.a. my six-month pregnant cousin, into an early labour. It didn’t. Praise the freaking lord.
Getting a camera up the booty was no problem, let’s be honest it wasn’t my first time at the rodeo. The one down the throat however was horrendous. I choked and I cried (again!) and once it was over I could only manage to utter four words, “That was so gross.”.
How have I coped with all of March’s shenanigans? I haven’t. I’ve distracted myself by investing in a boy. Classic. A pretty boy who before we even met showed very little interest in me, kind of ignored me and generally made me feel a bit shit. You can only imagine how shocked I was that after we met he continued to show very little interest, ignore me and make me feel even shitter. Gasp! Where were the warning signs!?
Well that’s been March. I look forward to the fresh hell April and May bring.