Before I started writing this, I reread the post I wrote this time last year to compare the way that I’m currently feeling. The one thing I can say with certainty, is that this year was better than 2024, even if still far from perfect. I’d say I’m still working through the effects of Geneva, but I know that no matter how bad I feel, it’ll never be as bad as when I was there.
I spent the first ten months of the year living at my parent’s house because I didn’t complete my year abroad. It was a long, and at times awkward, period, but it taught me to be okay with changing plans. I originally felt as though “everything was doomed” because I hadn’t completed my degree without issues like everyone said I would, but the experience taught me to accept any situation I found myself in.
In October, I made the big move back up to uni. The last time I’d lived in Lancaster was July 2024, over a year before, so I was anticipating how it would be. I was obviously imagining all the worst possible scenarios: I haven’t been at uni for that long that I will have forgotten how it works, I’m going to hate where I’m living, I’m not going to have any friends… It’d be a lie to say it’s all roses 24/7, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as my brain would have me believe. In fact, a secret blessing came that I hadn’t foreseen at all…
In the first half of the year, I’d had two unsuccessful relationships. They may have taken their toll on me, but I trusted the difficult emotions were only temporary. While obsessively planning my final year of uni and preparing for every possible situation, I decided that I wasn’t going to seek a relationship because I’d already have enough to worry about. When I moved into my house and realised there was no kettle, I went to Currys to buy one. I came out with a date, and now I have the loveliest boyfriend. Living proof that love comes when you least expect it.
I think that the amount I’ve changed in the past year-or-so has been astounding. I say this mainly in reference to the fact that I’m now far more organised, tidy and eager to get stuff done. I’m still not perfect by any means – I didn’t make my bed this morning – and I sometimes prioritise things unconventially, but I’m a far cry from the girl who used to do her coursework the night before, use her floor as her wardrobe and spend days doing nothing besides watching Netflix. I’d guess that my current state is partially fueled by my anxiety convincing myself that I’m constantly behind, but I still think I’m better than how I used to be.
Anxiety was a big ruler of my life this year, although my weekly sessions with a lovely therapist helped me to work through my thought patterns. I stopped seeing him when I started uni again, but I’ve recently started seeing a different online therapist because I still found myself getting overwhelmed. One of my goals for 2026 is to “work on my mental health”, which I’ve broken into smaller sub-categories. I’m trusting that this new therapist will help support me through that process.
I’ve set myself a few other goals for 2026. In terms of my academic career, I’m looking forward to the day I submit my dissertation. I felt anxious about starting it, but I bit the bullet a couple of days after Christmas and I’m really enjoying the process! I’ve now written 2,000 of the 10,000 words, but I’m actually finding it easier the more of it that I do. My supervisor is currently on annual leave, meaning that this is all without feedback, so I’m imagining it’ll only improve with his guidance. This is one small step towards my ultimate goal of graduating in 2026.
That leads neatly to the next chapter of my life: doing a Masters. I have three unis in mind, but I’m still unsure about whether I’d like to pick German up again if I have the chance. When I was younger, my mentality was*”I want to learn as many languages as I can”*, but that’s less of a priority for current me. I still love languages, of course, but studying their cultural aspects has made me realise I have interests beyond active language learning — my dissertation, for example, is centred around philosophy from a French perspective.
Speaking of which, another goal of mine for 2026 is that I’d like to read more philosophy. In my first year, I was once talking to a guy at a party about astrology, to which he very pretentiously told me that, “Astrology is just a watered-down version of philosophy. If you like astrology, you’d probably enjoy philosophy.” This piqued my interest but I assumed at the time that philosophy is hard to get into, which I still think it is, but I know bits here and there. I started learning about Buddhist philosophy last year, which really helped on my mental health journey in learning to accept the way things are. My next aim is to explore 20th-Century Western philosophers, of which I’m starting with some of the most well-known: Camus, Kafka, and Dostoevsky. I think that after that, the rest of my journey will unfold naturally based on what I enjoy.
I believe I finished 2025 having read 43 books. I’m not 100% certain as my journal with my book tracker is in Lancaster, but it’s definitely over 40, smashing my target of 20 out of the park. Even with this in mind, I’ve set my reading goal at 25 for this year. I wrote in my yearly reflection from 2024 that I’d rather surpass the goal than not be able to achieve it and feel bad about it, so I’m following a similar logic this year. I now have a Goodreads account to make tracking easier, and I’m looking forward to what I’ll get to read in 2026.
I have a couple of other goals which may come up in a future post, but I paradoxally believe there’s too much pressure around constant improvement, especially at the start of a new year. What this means for me, is that yes I have set myself goals, but I’m still kind to myself and don’t castigate myself for not necessarily achieving them all. I do have an interest in self-development, but I’ve learnt that it doesn’t look like the ‘aesthetic’ Pinterest posts, or making as much money as possible. It’s about small, realistic goals, tailored to you, not to what looks impressive, and most importantly, about your own happiness.
I recently read a quote that said: “You’re a human being, not a human doing.” So, slow down and let yourself be. If you haven’t started a business, learnt ten languages, or cured world hunger, that’s okay. We’re here to simply exist.
At the fear of repeating myself, I love a good book. It’s a habit I only solidly got into at the end of 2024, but it’s certainly brought many positive effects to my life: my attention span has improved, I’m learning about all sorts of things, and it distracts me from the world (even if only for a little while). I’d set out to read 20 books in 2025, but I’ve somehow read more than 40! I’m incredibly proud of myself since I always dreamt of being the type of person to read.
There were some books I wasn’t so keen on, but that I nevertheless read to learn through experience they aren’t for me, if that makes sense; I’d rather plod on with an awful book than not finish it. On the flip side, there were some books that left me saying, “That must have been one of the best books I’ve read,” which inspired me to write a list of my favourite books of the year.
And that’s exactly what I’m going to share with you today. Some of them appeared on my Rating all the books I read in 2025 (so far…) post, so maybe they aren’t the first you’re hearing of them, but there are also some new appearances. They also aren’t in any particular order; it was too hard to definitively rank them!
(Note: I’m not going to write too much on the plots of these books, but there may still be subtle spoilers.)
1. My Year of Rest and Relaxation – Ottessa Moshfegh
Why I liked it:
It’s very reminiscent of The Bell Jar, my favourite book of all time, while not feeling like it’s ripping off Plath. I love books centred around female anguish, and this book is full of that! I see a bit of myself in the protagonist, an alleged red flag because she isn’t written to be likeable. I like how the ending makes her see the world in a different light after taking time away from it — perhaps a lesson from which we could all learn.
2. Eileen – Ottessa Moshfegh
Why I liked it:
Eileen is a perfect example of why I refuse to leave a book unfinished; I found the first three quarters of it quite dull, until I got to the twist when I then couldn’t put it down! I chose the book after enjoying the My Year of Rest and Relaxation so much, and it contains the same themes which Moshfegh clearly has a talent for. I’d love to read more of her work next year.
3. The Kite Runner – Khalid Hosseini
Why I liked it:
While this wouldn’t have been my first pick, I’m very glad I decided to give it a go. First of all, I appreciated the backdrop of the Afghan Civil War, something I was previously unknowledgeable about, as it pushed me to learn about it. The story’s plot is like nothing I’ve ever read before: the perfect mix of excitement and poignancy which even brought me to tears at certain points. I think the protagonist’s redemption arc was also written so beautifully. This book goes to show that reading something outside of your usual interests can become a blessing in disguise.
4. The Picture of Dorian Gray – Oscar Wilde
Why I liked it:
I loved this book from the very first page as I fell in love with Oscar Wilde’s writing style. It’s the holder of so many lovely, and at times humorous, quotes, which was the biggest thing that drew me to it. I also found the story rather intriguing, and I’m glad I could follow it so easily — a problem I have with many pre-contemporary novels is struggling to understand the language. It’s such a shame that this was his only novel; I would have loved to read more of them.
5. Intermezzo – Sally Rooney
Why I liked it:
This book definitely deserved all the hype it received upon its release. It follows Sally Rooney’s formula of gritty, heartfelt narration from a young-adult perspective, except with more depth than ever before. I loved the two protagonists in equal measure, and the reconciliation of their relationship was really heart-warming. I’ll admit I wasn’t very satisfied with the ending, but I still enjoyed the story’s procession.
6. Beautiful World, Where Are You – Sally Rooney
Why I liked it:
I believe this to be Sally Rooney’s most underrated book; it bafflingly never received the same hype as Normal People or Conversations with Friends. I really like books that portray the banalities of young adult life, probably because due to their relatability, and this does exactly that, combined with the added whirlwind that relationships can sometimes bring. I thought the ending was very fittingly beautiful because it answered the question in the title: the beautiful word is everywhere, even the most mundane parts of life.
7. The Midnight Library – Matt Haig
Why I liked it:
This was the first of Matt Haig’s books I read, and I fell in love with it. Similarly to the previous entry on the list, it shows the banalities of a young woman’s life, about which she feels very dissatisfied. Through going on an interesting adventure that I won’t spoil, she comes to realise that her life is much better than she initially believed, illustrating the effect of perspective on our attitude. It made me see my own life differently; maybe my life isn’t perfect, but it could also be far worse.
8. The Courage to be Disliked – Ichiro Kishimi and Fumitake Koga
Why I liked it:
This book was a refreshing perspective on human psychology that many people, myself included, are unaccustomed to hearing: we use our ‘trauma’ as an excuse to be unhappy, and it’s all within our control (according to Adler, anyway). My favourite concept in the book was the idea of ‘task separation’: that we should stop adopting the burdens of other people because it only adds to our own discontentment. While I think that some parts of Adlerian psychology are largely oversimplifying our brains, it helped me to switch my perspective on my own mental struggles.
9. Everything I know about love – Dolly Alderton
Why I liked it:
I enjoyed the somewhat chaotic structure of this book; it’s in the form of an autobiography, sprinkled with other chapters where Alderton writes what she’d learnt about love at certain ages, along with random recipes! I fell in love with Alderton through her relatable writing, as well as the fact her desperation to find love from a young age resonated with me. It contains useful lessons about love that many people, especially young girls, could benefit from hearing.
10. First, we make the beast beautiful – Sarah Wilson
Why I liked it:
It’s a book on living with anxiety that provides all manner of coping strategies to make it more manageable. I liked how the book is written by a journalist (as opposed to a psychologist) because I find that self-help books from professionals can be pretentious and overly scientific. Wilson writes partially in an autobiographical style, which adds a personal touch to the book and practically shows how her techniques work.
I fear that my leisure reading may have to go on the backburner for a little bit; I have a lot of academic reading over the next few months and I don’t want to overwhelm myself with reading so much. But even if this is the case, I enjoy the books I read for uni, so I’ll nevertheless be satisfying my inner bookworm.
Writing this list made me realise a common denominator in many of my favourite books: a young adult, most often a woman, feeling anxious or depressed with her life trajectory. I do branch out from this trope but they seem to be what I gravitate towards. So, if anyone has any recommendations of books like this then let me know!
It’s nearing the end of first term, so uni is starting to ramp up in intensity. Conversely, I think I’m doing less work now than in the first few weeks; I learnt I was putting too much pressure on myself to always be doing something, rather than simply being. In my head, everything had much more urgency than in reality, and I’ve witnessed that life has gone on by allowing myself to relax.
For me, a week at university looks completely different from another – I only have about seven hours of contact hours a week, so I vary the ways in which I fill my time. I still thought it’d be interesting to show what exactly a final student gets up to. Maybe I can debunk the myth that uni students do nothing besides drink: something I hardly ever do nowadays!
Monday, 17thNovember2025
I only have one hour-long lecture at 1pm on Mondays. However, I’ve gotten into a habit of waking up early, coming with both benefits and downsides; it’s good because I have more time to get things done, but it’s bad because it’s probably making me sleep-deprived long term. Accepting the situation, I set off to uni at about 9am to do some work before my lecture.
I had my French oral exam on the Thursday, which asks that we upload a group presentation for a subsequent class discussion. We had to post it at least two days in advance, so Yi Chen, the other half of my pair, suggested we meet after the lecture to record it. With this in mind, I spent the morning polishing my script. We chose to discuss the reasons why Swiss are in general good health, since Yi Chen wanted to explore its relationship with the country’s cleanliness.
I went to the lecture for my module, ‘Translation as a Cultural Practice’. It’s really fascinating and something I’d never properly considered before doing the module; we learn about all manner of translation theories and the idea that there’s no such thing as an objectively correct translation. In week 10, we have to do a presentation about a subject of our choice within the translation realm, so my group have chosen to talk about how queerness is expressed in gendered languages. We haven’t started it yet, but I’m excited to read about it.
Yi Chen and I then went to the library. We initially had some technical difficulties; we struggled with audio feedback as we were recording on two devices, until we realised we had to mute ourselves whilst the other was talking. It actually went better than I was expecting, – I’d started working on it weeks before but hadn’t really thought about it again until that morning. I now just needed to prepare for potential questions for the class discussion.
On Tuesday, the Feminist Society (of which I’m the secretary) were running a bake sale to raise money for Gaza. This meant that the previous weekend, Lewis (my boyfriend) and I spent the afternoon making a millionaire shortbread. We wanted to do something easy, but a switch from classic cupcakes or cookies. When I got home that evening, I took it out the fridge, but I had to leave it on the side before slicing it up.
In the meantime, I decided to get started on a present for Lewis’ birthday on the 25th November: I had a plan to write 30 things I loved about him in his birthday card as he’s turning 30, but I had an epiphany to instead make a jar of them. I painted the lid with paint markers, wrote each reason on a piece of paper, and cut them out. Anyone who knows me knows I love crafting, and even more so when it’s for someone else.
I made my tea, a simple omelette, and knew I needed to bite the bullet with the shortbread. The chocolate was luckily less solid at this point, but we appeared to have made another mistake: we didn’t grease the dish enough and the base was stuck! After about half an hour of gently prying it out, I broke a lot of it, but thankfully ended up with a few salvageable pieces. I gave the crumbly aftermath of the dish to Ciaran (my housemate) and told him to knock himself out.
I had a bath, one of my favourite things in the Winter, and shortly went to bed. I did my standard nighttime routine of journaling, yoga, meditation, followed by a Netflix episode. I just finished rewatching Stranger Things in preparation for the new season the following week, so I’m now rewatching Peep Show. I think I may have fallen asleep watching it because I don’t remember turning it off!
Tuesday, 18th November 2025
Unfortunately, Tuesday is the day of my 9am 2-hour linguistics lecture. I met my friend Ellie outside the lecture theatre, where the only seats left were on the front row. The lecturer usually turns up late, so we chatted for a bit until it got to 9:30. Concluding that this was taking the mick, we left and went to the library. It was only when we got there that the lecturer posted an announcement to say she wasn’t coming. This uni is supposedly third in the world for linguistics…
Since I was already on campus, I used the time to find statistics for the discussion on Thursday and finish my Feminist Society presentation – I was presenting the session for the first time! I’d chosen the topic language & gender because it was my favourite topic in first year linguistics and ties in nicely with my society. I’d already done most of it at home, so the morning mainly consisted of adding all the ‘frilly bits’.
It was nearing 12 o’clock, so it was time to start organising the bake sale. I think we must have chosen the worst possible day for it; the temperature was about 3 degrees and pouring down with rain! Audrey, the activism coordinator, picked up the table from the students’ union with me, but we had trouble carrying it across Alexandra Square because of the rain. A guy asked us if we needed help, to which we first said no as the strong feminists we are, but he insisted and carried it over his head to shield himself. We joked that not all men are bad.
I was anxious about revealing my millionaire shortbread since it looked a bit…temperamental. The bake sale got off to a slow start, but luckily picked up as time went on. We annoyingly weren’t given a card reader which apparently didn’t stop us – we still managed to raise over £60! The other exec members told me it made them emotional to think of how much of a difference we were making to people in Gaza, leaving me with a feeling of positivity.
I wasn’t there for the final hour because I had a seminar at 2pm. This was the seminar for the same module as the lecture yesterday, where we had an interesting discussion about culture and language. I made a half-joke about Americans who feel the need to declare that they’re German when they’re actually referring to a very distant relative and know nothing about the language nor culture. I suppose it’s somewhat relevant to me; I openly tell people I’m half-Turkish despite not speaking Turkish…
When I returned to the bake sale, I was happy to see that a few pieces of my shortbread had been bought! Ruby, the president, tried a piece and told me she was impressed with how I’d made the caramel from scratch. She’d warned me that caramel is tricky, but I didn’t find it so bad, even as a novice baker. I excitedly told the news to Lewis, and we’re now excitedly planning what to bake next.
There were a few hours to kill before the Femsoc session, giving me time to, once again, sit in the library and get some work done. I started reading another book my dissertation supervisor recommended to me, but I’m currently reading so many books without a very clear direction on how I’ll actually use them. The deadline isn’t until the end of April, but I still needed to at least come up with a solid plan, so I planned to mention this to him in our meeting on Friday.
We brought the remaining bakes to the session so our members could bring any final donations and finish them off. I presented my powerpoint and we had an insightful discussion about differences in men’s and women’s speech, which I really enjoyed hearing. After the session, I took home one final fairy cake from the bake sale and drove home.
I felt very accomplished after the day I’d had. I’d not only presented in front of a lecture theatre, but I’d also made a positive difference to people in need by helping at the bake sale. But, after being on campus for eleven hours, I was more than ready to hit the hay.
Wednesday, 19th November 2025
I was really excited because Lewis and I had booked pottery painting! I’d only ever done it once before in Stockport, and it was Lewis’ first time, so I was curious to see what was in store. In the morning, I had a shower, did some reading and got ready. It was brought to my attention whilst doing my makeup how dirty my makeup brushes were, giving me the impulse to clean them all. A task which is always worth it but really hard to make myself do, I knew I had to do it there and then.
As soon as I left the house, I felt how chilly it was so I texted Lewis asking whether he had gloves. Thankfully, the answer was yes. We had a quick chat with his Mum and Granddad when I got to his place – Lewis’ band is playing a gig on his birthday, so his Mum and I were planning to go together. We then set off to the pottery studio, his hands freezing off as I benefitted from the warm gloves.
The studio had a very welcoming atmosphere and the staff were lovely. We had a conundrum over what to paint – I wanted something functional, so I suggested a vase for when Lewis buys me flowers, but he decided he wanted to do it for me. After a bit of deliberation, I chose a heart-shaped jewellery/trinket box, of which I already own several, but this one will at least have more character.
Lewis had the advantage that the vase consisted of geometric shapes, whereas I had trouble deciding on a design for my box. I was inspired by a funky pattern in the moodbook, of which my attempt wasn’t perfect by any stretch of the imagination. I did add our initials and the date on the side, as well as a mushroom on the lid, so it had a personalised touch.
Stomachs rumbling by this point, we walked to Gallico Lounge for a bite to eat. I ordered a cheese toastie and sweet potato fries – I was craving something warm and cheesy, whereas Lewis ordered tapas of quesa fundido, Louisiana fried chicken, and a mushroom bao bun. On the way home, Lewis showed me a vegan wholefoods shop called Single Step nestled behind Penny Street, where we bought some pea protein pieces.
We went back to my house and spent time relaxing and watching The Chase. We were competing to see who could get more questions right, and he was very impressed by my answers. I pride myself on my general knowledge, so we said we want to start doing pub quizzes. The only problem is we need a full team…
I was feeling particularly down and fatigued on this day, likely made worse by the cold. This, combined with my speaking discussion the following morning, meant I went to sleep early and Lewis went home.
Thursday, 20th November
I was misty-eyed as soon as I woke; Lewis knew I’d been having a rough time so he’d left a surprise note with a really sweet message, telling me not to worry so much and that I’ll always have him. I was feeling anxious about my speaking test, but I was given the motivation to power through by mentally carrying his message.
I set off early to do last-minute prep for the test. I’m really glad I made that choice, as it was the coldest day of the year and I had to spend about 15 minutes defrosting my car, including a thick layer of ice on the inside. I’m not sure whether that’s normal, but it’s apparently caused by humidity inside the car. Great.
The test went quite well. I believed that Yi Chen was talking a lot more than me until my teacher asked, “And Yi Chen, what do you think?” and looked at me as if to say, “shut up and let her speak”. It seems that multilingualism simply gives me the ability to waffle in several languages…
We have to wait until January for the feedback; the turnaround time is four weeks and others have yet to do it, so I likely will have forgotten about it by the time I hear how we did!
Whoever made my timetable must really not like me, as my Thursdays go: oral seminar 9-10, one hour break, writing seminar 11-12, one hour break, translation seminar 1-2. This meant I spent my one-hour gap preparing for the subsequent seminars. I had my writing seminar, which has a weird structure – we spend it debating, in spite of the name, and writing is set as homework…
I concluded I hadn’t the energy to stay on campus for another two hours, so I went home. It was a classic case of week seven blues: work is mounting up, it’s cold and dark, and there’s the looming C-word. I felt a bit bad about skipping classes since I promised I wouldn’t this year, but I know that it can also be a form of self-care to step away when it gets too much. I instead had a relaxing bath, relishing in the sheer autonomy I get from uni and living alone.
I rang my Mum, which lifted my spirits. Whilst talking to her, I put together the final bits for Lewis’ birthday present. The last gift didn’t arrive until after his birthday, but one of his Christmas presents ended up coming before, so I had to do a rejig between his birthday and Christmas presents. I then started making watercolour Christmas cards for my friends and family, a task that always calms me down.
I made my tea: noodles with veg and itsu gyozas. One of the best remedies when you’re feeling down, or at least in my experience, is having a nice, warm, comforting meal. Noodles do exactly that for me as they make me think of Studio Ghibli films. Another good one I like, is a meal that reminds you of home – jacket potatoes in my case. Food can heal the soul as well as the body.
I decided to get an early night as I really needed it.
Friday, 21st November 2025
I woke up feeling a bit better. The day got off to a good start; I was eagerly refreshing Ticketmaster for Pulp tickets next year, ending in success! I was surprised by the speed of the process because I’d tried and fail to get Oasis tickets last year, where there were 30,000 people ahead of me in the queue. Not only that, but it came up that Romesh Ranganathan, mine and my Mum’s favourite comedian, is going on tour in April 2027, so I got tickets for him too! It was a rather expensive morning, but at least it gives me things to look forward to.
Riding on a high, I went to campus for my meeting with Ben, my dissertation supervisor. I brought up the idea of creating a plan, which he said was great, and he advised me that it’s better to write little and often instead of doing it all just before the deadline. I agreed with him as I like to organise myself well and think it will ultimately be of a higher quality this way. Coincidentally, one of Ben’s colleagues was sitting across from us, so he called him over. I learnt that he’s written papers on themes I want to explore, so Ben’s going to put us in touch!
Straight after the meeting, I had another meeting with the Femsoc exec. We were taking part in 16 Days of Activism against gender-based violence, so we needed to come up with an activity for each day. Our first one is a zine-making event next Tuesday which I was excited for – I’ve never made a zine but I knew they were a cornerstone of riot grrrl culture. We also started a Google Form to submit positive anonymous messages, as there’s unfortunately been Lancaster confession accounts popping up with nasty and sexist posts.
Ruby and I then wanted to study in the library, but we bumped into her friends, so not a lot of studying was actually done! It turns out that one of Ruby’s close friends is a girl on my course whom I’d never really spoken to before, so we spent a bit of time getting to know each other. It meant my afternoon was fairly unproductive, but I felt glad to have made a new friend I’ll see in lectures.
Once they’d all left, I thought it was really time for me to do something productive. As I’ve mentioned, I don’t want to put too much pressure on myself to be working 24/7, so I started by putting together a bit of my dissertation plan. I also revised some French vocab, which I haven’t done for a few days, but I actually found that not thinking about it for a bit improved my active recall. It goes to show that maybe I never needed to be working more – just working smarter.
I had Folk society at 6, so I went to my car to fetch my violin and drop off my uni bag. I walked to the off-campus kitchen to heat some food I’d brought: a chickpea curry I’d made the week before. We had a jolly old time playing and singing Christmas tunes. Friday evenings are the same time as my Fosbrooks rehearsals back home, so it’s nice to have that little bit of normality, although it’ll never be quite the same.
I’m always absolutely knackered by the end of Folksoc, perhaps because it also marks the end of the week. So, I went home and straight to bed. I accidentally broke the legs off the telly in my room that morning – it was propped on a pile of books that I needed to get to. This meant I read a book instead of watching Netflix to fall asleep, which is probably a healthier habit than staring at a screen anyway.
Saturday, 22nd November 2025
I woke myself up with a warm shower. I believe they say it’s actually cold showers that do this, but I needed it to motivate myself out of bed. Since I didn’t have anywhere to be, I decided to do my washing, which is normally a Sunday task, but my washing basket was full. I also change my sheets on Sundays, so I knew it’d be way too full if I then added bedding.
My most important task was to go food shopping; my cupboards and fridge were running low. I thought of a perfect remedy against the biting cold: I walked to Booths wearing my Oodie. When in an extreme state, like extreme cold, I realise how little I actually care about what others think because the most important thing was just for me to keep warm. As it was Booths where I was going, I did worry I may have been spat on by a middle-class woman with kids called Penelope and Tarquin.
I successfully managed with only a few funny looks. I didn’t get everything I needed because I didn’t want to kill my shoulder lugging it all back, so I still needed to go to Aldi on Sunday. When I got home, I did a few admin tasks, followed by reading. I thought it wise to do some research on postgrad applications because it feels as though they’re looming over my head. Most unis’ deadlines are a long way off, but it settles my mind to know I’m somewhat prepared.
At 4, Lewis finished work so he came to my house. He sweetly surprised me with a bunch of flowers, which I’ve had to put in a glass for the time being as I didn’t yet have the vase. I then surprised him with a maple and pecan plait from the Booths bakery, making it a mutually pleasant reunitement.
He made us some pasta using the pea protein pieces from the other day. It was our first time trying them – we like to experiment with different meat substitutes – but all we could think of was how much they tasted of peas! Last week, I suggested we tried tempeh after I really liked it at a restaurant in Manchester, but he didn’t like the texture. We said we might try jackfruit next.
We didn’t do an awful lot the rest of the evening – we mostly talked and caught each other up on the two entire days we hadn’t seen each other. He was working at 10 the following day, so he soon had to go home.
Sunday, 23rd November 2025
I was really proud of myself on Sunday morning because I rose at the very late time of… 8:15am! My body has fallen into a habit of not letting me go back to sleep when I wake up early, so it was a little win.
The first thing I did was wash my hair, which is a 3-hour task: I leave rosemary oil in for about an hour, followed by washing it all out, and I leave a microfibre towel on for an hour (or as long as I can) to prevent frizz and save hair-drying time. When I got out of the shower, I wrestled with my fitted sheet, on the verge of tears, before I realised it was the wrong way…
Fresh sheets finally on, I dried my hair and did a little bit more of my dissertation plan. Ben told me to be as rough as I want with it – essentially write whatever came to my mind – which I found hard at first. I’m starting to realise that some of the books I’ve already read had quotes that would have been relevant which I didn’t write down at the time, meaning I’ll probably have to go through them again. It’s a good job I’m doing this early.
I walked to Aldi for my second food shop of the week, sans Oodie this time. I bought some pasta sheets, as Lewis told me he’s going to try and make cannelloni, as well as a few other bits. This shop was luckily much cheaper than it was at Booths.
When I got home, it was soon time to pick Lewis up from work; we were going to his Mum’s house for a birthday Domino’s with the rest of his family. I met his cousin Rhiannon for the first time, as well as her partner, two daughters, and cocker spaniel! Lewis’s Mum had even made him a birthday cake with homemade jam, which was very tasty. I’d actually planned to surprise him with a cake until I found out she was already making one. Once everyone had left, we sat and chatted with his Mum for a bit, where we could hear better without all the commotion.
We soon had to leave, however, because Lewis was doing an impromptu gig at the pub. We drove back to mine and got picked up by Matt, his bandmate.
Lewis had only been asked the previous night if he could support this band on drums. He’s the singer and guitarist in his own band, but he said he loves playing drums so always accepts any offers. It was the first time I’d seen him on drums – I loved how energetic his playing was! The first song they played was Ex’s and Oh’s by Elle King, a song I’d mentioned to him that I liked. He told me afterwards that he told the band they needed to play it because I was coming. What a sweetheart.
He thanked me profusely for coming, to which I told him I wouldn’t want to miss it for the world. We left soon after because Lewis was working the next day, not to mention the fact it was Sunday night! I went to sleep feeling grateful after being so welcomed by his family, and being surprised by him playing the song I liked.
Moving from one place to another is a lot; a different routine, new people, and everything just feeling ‘off’ for a while. Or at least that was my feeling when I moved back to Lancaster for uni, but I’m now happily settling into my new life. I recently wrote a whole article about what I learnt in therapy, prompted by no longer having sessions up in Lancaster.
Something else that I miss from home is the charity shop where I’m a volunteer supervisor. I have several examples of volunteering experience on my CV, starting in my music group where I’ve been a helper for six years. I then volunteered in a Barnardo’s store last Summer which I really enjoyed. I was surprised by how laid-back it was, which makes sense considering I couldn’t exactly be sacked!
I started at my current charity shop in April this year, at a time when I was still struggling mentally. My work contract had been reduced to 8 hours a week and I needed to keep my mind occupied. It ended up being one of the best decisions I made in 2025, leaving me with a lovely network of fellow volunteers and regulars with whom I’m still in touch. When it was my birthday, several customers brought me presents and cards, restoring my faith in humanity. My brain can so easily feed me negative thoughts, but the recognition I received made me realise I do make a positive contribution to the world.
I believe that helping in the shop largely contributed to the improvement of my mental health. It gave me a sense of purpose, and I had the privilege of meeting so many kind souls. My favourite customer was a volunteer at another local charity shop who would always tell me how gorgeous I was, who even brought me some of my favourite chocolate on my birthday! (side note: my favourite chocolate is Reese’s if anyone’s feeling kind) It gave me the chance to see people from all walks of life and contextualise my own problems through speaking to customers less fortunate than me. It taught me the importance of kindness and compassion to all; you never truly know the battles people are fighting behind closed doors.
I’ve heard some selfish comments like, “What’s the point of volunteering when you could find a real job where you get paid?” Now, I acknowledge the privilege I had that I could go without the money, but I hate the implication that it’s only worth dedicating time to something if you get something out of it. I took pleasure in sacrificing days at the shop because I was making a difference to the charity, the community, and my own self-development — all of which are more valuable than a few pounds in my opinion.
I think there are also some misconceptions surrounding voluntary work. It tends to be a role associated with ‘old ladies’, and while I did work with a few (who were some of the loveliest people I’ve ever met), the demographic was varied. We had a few others around my age who were after retail experience, as well as people from all walks of life who simply wanted to contribute to the community. I couldn’t really care less about if what I’m doing is an ‘old ladies’ job; I love doing it, and it perfectly complements my other ‘old lady’ habit of an early night drinking herbal tea!
Having said that, there were some less profound reasons that I enjoyed volunteering, the first and most obvious being that I would get first dibs on the stock. I’ve come across countless bargains in the charity shop, from clothes for myself to interesting bric-a-brac. The most useful ones I’ve had were some pans, overproof dishes and digital kitchen scales, donated at the perfect time for my move back to uni.
I’d also got in the habit of doing funky makeup looks because I love being creative with my appearance, but found I didn’t often have an occasion to express it in my everyday life. It often garnered compliments from customers and colleagues alike, with some even saying I should take a makeup course and do it professionally. While I love the idea of being a makeup artist, I already have enough future plans as is. Maybe in another life…
Being in Lancaster has taught me the value of having a community you can always return to. I love studying here, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve always found uni communities to be a bit isolating as everyone is busy doing their own thing. This is especially true in final year when you aren’t encouraged to meet new people like freshers are, and your friends are all busy under mountains of coursework and reading.
It’s probably clear through reading this article that I have every intention to go back at Christmas. I was working there three days a week before I went to uni, which I sadly don’t think I’ll have the time for between many festive commitments, but I’m definitely going to drop in to help and say hello.
You should try it too if you have the time — I can guarantee your local charity shops are constantly looking for new volunteers. If you really don’t fancy it, then I would suggest you do your part for charity and the environment by having a clearout in time for the new year! It might not mean a lot for you to get rid of your old tat, but it may have a much deeper impact on someone else.
It dawned on me a few days ago that the 27th October marked my blog’s first birthday! I wish I’d realised in advance to have made a proper occasion of it, but this post is the next best thing; I’ll be reflecting on my experience of a year of running a blog.
I can’tquitebelieveit, is my first thought. As I mentioned in my very first post, I always had fun with any sort of writing task, but it was never something I actively sought out. Maybe I believed I already had enough interests and commitments in my life, or that I should leave it to the professionals, but this past year has totally disproven that for me.
What simply started as escapism from my suffering in Geneva has become so much more: friends from my uni cohort have told me my posts uplifted them when they weren’t having the best time themselves, and I’ve even heard remarks that I’m an inspiration! I used to discount my good qualities since they felt so normal to me, but comments like that have made me realise that I actually am doing better than I think.
I feared I’d have to shut down my blog or go on hiatus when I started back at uni, but I’m glad I’ve maintained my writing routine – it’s a pleasant change from grammar and dissertation research. I also think that writing regularly is cathartic and helps to practise the skill, something I’m hoping will show in my university assignments.
My writing has improved a lot in the past year. I used to read well-established blogs or academic papers and think, I’ll never be that good, but writing is truly a skill that gets better with practice. It’s not as if I’ve had any formal lessons to improve my writing in the past year, but if you go back to my old posts and compare them to now, you’ll notice how much smoother my recent posts sound. I’m aware that I’m still far from perfect, so perhaps I’ll be saying the same thing in a year from now!
While not directly through my blog, 2025 was also the year I developed a huge interest in reading, which I think has contributed to my writing’s improvement. I used to believe I “didn’t have enough time” to read, until I realised how much time I waste on my phone or other quick dopamine fixes. My goal for 2025 was to read 20 books, and I’ve smashed that out of the park by finishing my 39th, and it’s only November! I have a rather eclectic taste, so I can certainly say that reading has enhanced my knowledge and critical thinking in so many areas.
Another benefit of running this blog is that it subconsciously holds me accountable; I write a lot about how I try to manage my anxiety, so I know I’d only have a leg to stand on if I followed my own advice. I do get caught up in the negativity of my mind on occasion, but when I think of what I preach on this blog, it reminds me to slow down and breathe — almost like you’re cheering me on!
I don’t know about all of you, but my favourite post is 21 life lessons at 21; the idea came to me a few months before my birthday, as I found myself wondering what I’d learnt in my life. It took me a while to come up with 21 points that would also be applicable to an audience, until I then had trouble whittling them down! Writing it left me feeling very motivated, and the process of gathering ideas was helpful in reminding me of valuable things I sometimes forget. It even had me wondering whether I could come up with another 22 for next year…
Being the manager of my own blog has blessed me with plenty of inspiration for future plans. My first priority is to move my site off a website builder to a fully customised one. Then, a writer friend of mine gave me a whole swarm of magazines and newspapers that accept submissions, so I’d love to write a piece to be published elsewhere one day. I even toyed with the idea of doing a Master’s in Journalism next year, but I’ve decided to keep it as my ‘side job’ for now.
I hold an instinctive feeling of resentment and bitterness towards my experience in Geneva, but I’m grateful that it indirectly led me to writing. I’ve mentioned the concept of gratitude many times on here, which I really try to practise when reminiscing on that time of my life. I may have cried nearly every day I was there, I may have hated my life and believed it’d never get better, but it was the catalyst for MFEla. So, maybe everything does happen for a reason.
This post has been a bit of a stream of consciousness, but the most important thing I want you to take from it is this: thank you so much to everyone who’s supported me on my journey. If you’ve ever left a kind comment, given me a compliment, or helped with ideas, I appreciate it more than you’ll ever know. I’m unsure of what’s in store for MFEla, or my writing journey in general, but I hope I’ll have your support every step of the way.
As I’m writing this, I’ve just finished my first week of my final year at Lancaster University. This incited many changes in my life because, although I’d successfully managed two years in Lancaster, I went on a year abroad last year that hadn’t gone to plan, so I’d spent the past eight months at my family home in Stockport. I’d been out of the academic environment for so long that I didn’t know what to expect.
It turns out that, as with most things, it’s turned out to be not nearly as bad as I was anticipating; yes uni is stressful with the workload, but I’m living in a lovely house with friends, in a pleasant little city I love, studying a course that fascinates me, and doing extra-curricular activities that push me outside my comfort zone.
One big change, though, is that I’m no longer in therapy. I started seeing my therapist in April this year, shortly after my ex and I broke up, when I was still learning to manage my anxiety. He was a massive help, and I looked forward to our weekly sessions where I could offload my feelings and be told that I wasn’t unjustified for many things I felt, did or said: validation I was in need of at the time.
I felt apprehensive in the weeks leading up to uni because I knew I’d miss this outlet. In our last session, he gave me some papers with coping mechanisms for anxiety, making me feel slightly more equipped to ‘live life untherapised’. I’d also learnt plenty of useful things from him over our five months together, which I think others could learn from too.
When it came to brainstorming for this post, I realised it’s easier said than done to ‘list everything you’ve learnt from your therapist’, as I found it was a holistic process above all else. He did teach me some interesting facts from counselling theory and psychology, which isn’t particularly common in therapy, but he knew I was curious and enjoyed the theoretical bits, so our work centred around this.
1. A bad 15 minutes ≠ a bad day While this seems fairly obvious when said aloud, it took me a while to really grasp it. I used to set a goal every night that, “tomorrow I’m not going to be anxious”, and then when I’d inevitably feel anxious about one thing or another, I’d treat it as though I’ve ‘failed’ and the cycle would restart. My brain would gravitate towards the negative and ignore anything positive that happened.
Once, my therapist told me at the end of a session that “a bad 15 minutes only makes a bad day if you indulge in that feeling”, which just about sums up what I’d been doing. If I’d ever feel anxiety, instead of allowing it and letting it pass, my brain would sound more like, “Oh my God, we said we weren’t going to be anxious. This is so stupid.”, only making the feeling persist.
At the time, I happened to be reading Mark Manson’s The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fck* where he explores the idea of life metrics. To save you reading it, he writes that if you measure the quality of your life with an unrealistic ‘metric’, you’re setting yourself up for unhappiness. I realised I’d subconsciously set my metric as not feeling anxiety, a natural human emotion, when there are so many other things to use.
Instead, I wrote in my journal that my new life metric is “to try to remain grateful and as present as possible”. Note that it isn’t “to be grateful and present every second of the day”; I know I can’t realistically do this, and that would probably cause me further anxiety. I’ve since done lots of reading about Buddhism, which also emphasises presence and acceptance, and it’s made me feel far more at peace.
2. We aren’t in control of our thoughts This came up when I was explaining how much I wished I could stop certain thoughts from crossing my mind. My therapist responded by asking me the classic question: “If someone tells you not to think of pink elephants, what’s the first thing you’re going to think of?”, making the point that we simply can’t control our thoughts, only how we react to them.
Something that helped me, was realising I’m not my thoughts — just the observer of them. Buddhism uses the analogy of leaves on a river, the river representing the impermanent nature of everything in life. “When you watch leaves float downstream, you don’t grab every single one because you know that more will come.” Truly understanding this lightened my mind. Nothing lasts forever, so stay for the ride.
3. Many things can be considered trauma I secretly find it hilarious when older people say things like: “Back in my day we didn’t need therapy — we all just got on with it. Your generation is so spineless!”. The irony is that many of them carry harmful habits they’ve normalised, like constant negative self-talk, which could be resolved if they, you guessed it, went to therapy!
You don’t have to have been raped, physically hurt, et cetera, to have trauma; so many things you might have disregarded or even suppressed, especially ones that happened before age five, can form deep mental narratives. In fact, my therapist told me the worst thing you can do to a child is ignore them for this very reason. I once mentioned the time I was the only girl in my class who wasn’t invited to someone’s birthday party, and he told me how significant that is — likely contributing to my anxious attachment style today.
Narratives in themselves are interesting. My therapist explained them with the example of a man’s mother abandoning the family when he was young, where he’ll form the narrative that “women always leave me”. Each future breakup then validates that belief, and he might unconsciously act in ways to push women away.
Maybe you have a similar belief, and if you do, don’t panic. You can ‘fix’ it through challenging these beliefs that no longer serve you and replacing them with more helpful thoughts. In this example, the man might analyse his behaviour in past relationships and question why he pushes women away, when he’ll likely realise that it’s due to his fear of abandonment. This awareness can transform his future relationships. The process can be challenging, but our brains aren’t as stuck in their habits as you may think, so it’s certainly worth trying to rid yourself of these toxic beliefs to lead a more fulfilling life.
4. Make friends with overthinking, but tell it off when necessary This was what inspired my article about nurturing your inner child, so give that a read to learn more, but in brief: my therapist told me about how our overthinking is a survival mechanism we adopted due to negative experiences in childhood, so we should treat it as such. The way I do this is by imagining my overthinking as little Ela, and speaking to her with tenderness when she tries to warn me of dangers that don’t exist.
My therapist also encouraged me to ‘tell off’ my overthinking when it won’t switch off. I was a bit worried about trying this as I felt as though that’s what I’d sort of already done, which had only made it worse; it made me feel bad about feeling bad. He explained that this is different, because you can quieten it by asking a question, like you would with a child. For example, when I’m stuck ruminating, I might ask, “What are we achieving from this?”. When the answer is “nothing”, it soon shuts up.
Another one I’ve adopted leaning into the childlike curiosity. When I’m assuming the worst for every decision — recently it’s been battles between productivity and rest, where it’s either worrying about laziness and failing uni, or burning myself out — I say to myself, “let’s see what happens!” Kids are often fearless because they don’t predict every possible failure, and borrowing that mindset brings me a bit of relief.
5. Our brains would rather cling to uncomfortable familiarity than risk the unknown Our brains fear uncertainty more than anything else. Think about it: their job is to keep us safe, so if the outcome is unknown, say, presenting to an audience, it’s going to predict the worst. In this example, the worst case would be social rejection, a genuine survival threat in caveman times.
It explains so many behaviours that may seem simple from the outside. From people who stay in abusive relationships, to drug addicts, to those with crippling social anxiety, to workaholics, to people with big ambitions but take no steps towards them. I could go on and on, but in my case, it was worrying about returning to uni. I even said it at the start: “I’d been out of the academic environment for so long that I didn’t know what to expect.”
It’s also why negative self-talk is such a trap. If your inner dialogue sounds like, “I hate my life, everything sucks, I’m worthless…”, your brain deepens those neural pathways, and when you try instead to think, “I enjoy my life, everything is okay, I am worthy”, it feels uncomfortable.
As with the narratives, you can undo this by catching the thoughts and replacing them with positive ones, even if you don’t believe them yet. It’s essentially the law of attraction — act as though you’re already the person you want to be until it feels natural. I take it even further by listening to positive affirmations using a manifestation journal.
Whenever I’d read self-help books or listen to podcasts on mental health giving similar advice to this, I’d think it was a load of rubbish as “they make it sound so easy. If I wanted to be happy then I would”, which you may be thinking after reading all of these. I’ll be the first to say that it is difficult to ‘undo’ a lifetime of trauma, bad habits and low self-esteem, and I’m not saying to implement all these lessons to be ‘cured’ tomorrow.
What I am saying, though, is trying is a worthwhile process; it will push you towards a happier life where you can show up better in relationships, achieve more, and have more fun! The path isn’t always straight — there will be obstacles in your way, but knowing they’re only temporary and being able to overcome them will ultimately make you stronger.
My therapist once advised me to think of my ‘happy place’ whilst meditating so I can metaphorically take myself there when I’m anxious. He then asked me where that would be, which I couldn’t answer right away. That was until I remembered Whitby; I’ve gone on many a trip there with my music group to perform at its folk festival, so I hold many pleasant memories of the little seaside town.
If you read my birthday post, you’ll know that we instead went to Sidmouth Folk Festival this year, but we performed at Billingham’s folk festival the following week and headed to Whitby in the evening for a chippy tea. This means I’d only spent a few hours in Whitby this year as opposed to the week I normally spend.
With my upcoming return to uni, my mum suggested we go there for a few days with Rosie, our dog. I was a bit apprehensive about bringing Rosie, but I was eager to return to my happy place, so I agreed. Neither Mum nor Rosie had ever been before, so I was excited to show them my favourite parts of Whitby and generally enjoy some family time before my departure.
Day 1 While not in Whitby itself, myself and the other Fosbrooks always look forward to stopping at Skelton Lakes services in Leeds; it’s big, with good amenities, complete with a bird viewing area! With this in mind, we stopped there on the way, where Rosie enjoyed the surrounding grass, and Mum said it was the best service station she’d visited. I was giving good recommendations from the get-go!
We couldn’t check into our accommodation until 4pm, so the first thing we did upon arrival in Whitby was wander through the town. I showed Mum my favourite shop, a boutique with whimsical clothing and accessories called Squid Rock. I ended up buying a pair of faux sheepskin gloves from a nearby shop, as it was windy and my hands were cold. They’re very warm and stylish, but I can’t use my phone with them — the problems of the modern age… Mum took Rosie on the sand beside one of the piers whilst I acted as photographer. I’m glad I did because a big wave soon came and left them soaking wet! Rosie has always been afraid of water, and I think this experience traumatised her even more because after this, she refused to walk over the bridge and we had to carry her over. Poor Rosie…
When 4pm rolled around, we checked into our accommodation: a lovely Airbnb right in the heart of Whitby. The only drawback was that it was on an extremely narrow road, making Mum very stressed as she drove up. It made me thankful I didn’t drive! Once we’d unpacked our things and settled in, it was time for tea, so we made our way back to the promenade.
I’d suggested we try the Magpie Café, one of Whitby’s most renowned fish and chip restaurants that always has ‘a queue out the door’. Since we went relatively early, there luckily wasn’t a queue, so we thought we’d seize the opportunity. I chose halloumi fries and chips, which tasted divine, even more so because I was in my favourite place. We must have chosen the perfect time to go, as there was, in fact, a queue out the door when we left.
Once I’d got ready for bed, I went to sit on one of the benches near the wishbone to reflect on my day and write in my journal. I’d forgotten to put my gloves on, so my hands were shaky as I wrote, but I was just happy to be in my happy place. I didn’t stay there long — I soon walked back to the house and got a good night’s sleep.
Day 2 I was up and ready before Mum, so she advised me to get a coffee and she’d meet me later. I’d noticed there were quite a few coffee shops near the house, but none of them were open! I found myself at a pleasant café on the other side of the bridge called Mr. Cooper’s Coffee House, where I got a coffee and some PB&J overnight oats. They were delicious and I still think about them — maybe I should try making them myself.
Mum soon came to meet me with Rosie, and we had another brew in the same café. This time, though, I had a lemon and ginger herbal tea as I was in the midst of a cold. The first thing I recommended we do with our day was climb the famous 199 steps up to the Abbey. I wasn’t looking forward to it, but it actually proved to be less work than I remembered. We then took a stroll through the graveyard, where some of the graves dated back to the 1700s! It had a spooky atmosphere, but I find it strangely serene to walk through graveyards or religious buildings; it puts things into perspective and helps me realise how much bigger the world is beyond little old me.
We then went for a drink in the nearby YHA Café. Mum had asked me why the Abbey is in the state that it is, which prompted me down a Google rabbit hole. I learnt that Henry VIII had ordered it to be destroyed during the Dissolution of the Monasteries, and it was later bombed by the Germans in WWII. I had no idea about this; most common knowledge about the Abbey is in relation to Dracula!
When I’d come to Whitby a few weeks prior, I noticed that there were now Jellycat claw machines in one of the arcades, so I told Mum that I’d simply have to try my luck. My efforts proved to be fruitless, making me wonder whether claw machines are rigged or if I’m just not very good at them. Mum told me she’d get me one for Christmas instead, so I will get another one eventually.
Next was the time for another mooch through the shops. We bought souvenirs for friends and family back home, one of which I forgot to give to my Fairy Godmother before I left for uni — it can now be her Christmas present. We sat down opposite the Co-op, where I normally perform at the Folk Festival, and there was a man playing piano and singing in my place. He very fittingly sang Piano Man, so I gave him some change and asked whether he could do any other Billy Joel. He did She’s Always a Woman To Me, and I learnt he was from Salford, only down the road from me. Small world…
Mum had told me when we’d gone into Squid Rock the previous day that she’d buy me something in there, but as Rosie was too mardy to cross the river, she sent me there myself with her bankcard. I bought some funky mushroom print trousers, as well as some sunglasses and earrings with my own card. I also used the opportunity to buy her a Christmas present from another shop: a Highland cow Christmas ornament. Here’s to hoping she doesn’t read this post! The most famous landmark of Whitby, besides the Abbey and the wishbone of course, is debatably Sandsend beach, which is where we were next headed. I opted out of walking through the sand — I didn’t fancy getting bits of it in my shoes — so I sat on a bench whilst Mum took Rosie on the beach. I was trying my best to really take in my surroundings; I can mentally ‘get there’ more easily if I remember exactly how it looks.
For tea we went to Pescado Lounge, where I had the ‘super grain salad’ which I enjoyed. My nighttime routine was then similar to the previous night: reflection, journaling, and sleep. We had to check out of the house by 10am, so I wanted to be up early to have my last little look at Whitby.
Day 3 I finished the book I’d brought, Mrs Dalloway, the morning we left. The only logical solution to this qualm was that I found another book to start on the journey home. After scouring a few charity shops, I found a book I was interested in, The Midnight Library by Matt Haig, which ended up costing me £2.25! All the paperbacks in my charity shop are 50p…
After a final walk through the town, we drove home, stopping at the same services on the way back. I was tired after travelling, so I made the rest of the day a day of relaxation.
Final thoughts I recently made it a goal of mine to be more ‘present’ in my everyday life; I realised that my anxiety is a result of not living in the moment. This trip helped me to do just that, so I’d say that it was exactly what my soul needed before my move back to Lancaster. I’d been feeling anxious about it, mostly due to theorising every possible thing that could go wrong, but coming away with my mum and dog helped to pull me out of my head into the real world.
I don’t yet know what our plans are for next Summer in terms of performing, but I would really love to go to Whitby Folk Festival again if possible. If not, though, I’m sure that Mum would be open to coming back so I can get my annual fix of my happy place!
If you’ve read my previous post about turning 21, you’ll know I wasn’t exactly jumping for joy — I was terrified of ageing. One of the main reasons for this is that I’d told myself a few weeks ago that 21 would definitely be better than 20, so I feared I’d beat myself up if I still felt the same. It’s only been a couple of weeks so far, but it is proving to be pretty good: perhaps because I’m still riding the ‘birthday high’, or maybe things are starting to change for the better.
I had some unforgettable yet unconventional celebrations on my special day: I spent it at Sidmouth Folk Festival with the Fosbrooks, my music group. I thought it’d be strange not to celebrate my 21st with my family, but I’ve been part of the Fosbrooks for so long that they’re essentially a second family to me. If you want to know how to celebrate your 21st birthday in style as a folk musician, look no further.
Friday, 1st August 2025 The trip started with an 8-hour coach journey to Devon, made more bearable by singing some of our favourite songs. I’d informed everyone beforehand it was imperative they all learnt the lyrics to my all-time favourite: If I had a hammer by Pete Seeger. We used to sing it at primary school, but weirdly enough, the age groups both above and below me didn’t know the song, so it must only have been used for a short time. Anyway, I managed to drill it into everyone’s heads over the week, and now they’ll never forget it.
Us Fosbrooks aren’t well-acquainted with the idea of hotels, so our accommodation came in the form of a cosy village hall. Most of us slept on the same hall floor with our camp beds, which we started by unpacking and arranging. There wasn’t much space to move, so I joked that the most uttered word on the trip was, “Sorry”, as we were constantly getting under each other’s feet. Still, I think there’s no way of getting to know people better than being in close quarters for a week straight, so perhaps it wasn’t such a bad thing! We discovered that the hall backed onto a graveyard, which became our designated ‘chilling spot’ away from everyone else. It was a relaxing, albeit eerie, social space where we enjoyed spending our free time.
There were some points over the week where I started feeling a bit anxious over certain things, but the fact I was surrounded by people I love, doing something I love, helped me to see things differently in the sense of: it was a privilege I had the chance to come to such a beautiful part of the world, and we’re all going to look back on this time in a few years from now with fondness, so I’m going to spend it being present and laughing with my Fosbrooks family. There was no room for anxiety here!
We had pasta bake for tea, made by our fantastic cooks-cum-wardrobe-assistants-cum-groupies-cum-general-moral-support Audrey and Sarah. They do so much for us and are a great help at our practices, events and trips. We spent the evening talking and getting settled until we went to bed in preparation for our first day of performances.
Saturday, 2nd August 2025 For some reason, I always seem to be the first person to wake up on Fosbrooks trips. There’s just something weird about waking up surrounded by a bunch of other sleeping lions and falling back asleep. So, every morning I’d wake up, sit at the table to read and do my makeup, whilst everyone else was beginning to stir. I’d started Little Women on the coach, borrowed from Liza, and I’d already read about half of it by the second day. I also added a few entries to my journal over the week, but I fully updated it upon my return.
My dear friends from left to right: Ellen, Alice and Flo
We had to be up and out by 10am for our first performance at 11. It’s always a slightly stressful experience getting ready for performing; our costume has to be on, our hair done in French plaits, complete with ribbons and a sash around the waist. The coach often can’t park close to where we’re performing, so the Fosbrooks method of unloading is: find your instrument pronto, get a chair if you need one, if you’re a big strong lad get the amps and help Audrey with the truck, if you’re not then step to the side to avoid blocking the pavement.
Our first performance was a success. There was a bit of a competition between all the groups of who could raise the most money for the festival, so we sent our youngest performers into the audience with buckets to collect donations. We didn’t have a card reader, denting our potential, but we’d raised £1000 by the end of the week, 3rd out of all the teams, so we hadn’t done half bad.
It was soon dinnertime (or as they say in Devon, lunchtime). The way we Fosbrooks eat our dinner is by finding somewhere to sit, often a car park or random patch of grass, passing around tupperware with an assortment of sandwiches, followed by a bag with different crisps, followed by a chocolate biscuit. I believe there’s also fruit, but I was on holiday, so it was invisible to me. We are a classy bunch! Saturday was the day we did the first of our three processions. I was standing at the front, alongside the banner girls, acting as the pied piper of Sidmouth with my penny whistle. Something I learnt from this is that playing the whistle whilst walking and trying to stay the correct distance away from both our dancers and the team in front, is much harder than it looks. I still had plenty of fun representing the Fosbrooks, and we ended it with a swift 7-minute spot in the Blackmore Marquee.
All ready to go!
With all our performances done for the day, we went back to the hall to relax. Romero, our coach driver, took some people to Tesco, but I didn’t go because I couldn’t be bothered and didn’t need anything. Some of the oldest members took the littlest ones to the park to keep them entertained, but I decided to stay at the hall, have a shower in peace, and read. My phone was connected to the speaker, and it was absolute bliss being alone and able to play the music I liked! I said this to my friends at one point, but I used to suffer badly from FOMO, so I would have probably gone to Tesco purely to say that I went, but nowadays, I’ve gone past the point of caring — I know they’d tell me if anything interesting happened (which, let’s face it, isn’t likely at Tesco).
My friends returned from the shop with a selection of ciders. Before the trip, I told myself I was going to wait until my birthday to drink because I get terrible hangovers and didn’t want to feel dreadful whilst performing. With this in mind, I sat with my friends, abstaining, and laughing at their increasing tipsiness. It was a pleasant evening, and debatably even better because I could watch it from a sober perspective. It was soon time to go to sleep.
Sunday, 3rd August 2025 My ‘birthday eve’. My mum tells me that, the night before my birth, she had a tiramisu at Sainsbury’s café that she believes is the reason she went into labour (I was born 4 days early), and now she won’t eat it again. I don’t know whether she thinks she’s going to magically have another baby if she eats tiramisu or what, but I texted her joking that it was 21 years ago to the day, to which she replied, “Never again.” Mums are funny.
We had three thirty-minute performances to do, with chunks of free time in the middle. The previous day, I’d made friends with members of Catseye Morris, a morris-dancing team based in Cornwall, and I’d bumped into them again when they told me, “Happy birthday for tomorrow.” I was flattered that they’d remembered, and I invited them to the ceilidh the following night to celebrate, to which they told me they’d be there.
Between our first and second performances, we had dinner on the beach. I brought a swimming costume just in case I fancied braving the English Channel, but I once again experienced the joy of missing out by simply sitting and being the photographer. I chaperoned two of the little ones as they wanted to look at the market stalls on the seafront, and I bought myself a ring. This one fits better than the one I bought in Dublin, however it’s starting to turn my finger green since it’s made of brass. I read online that you can clean brass with toothpaste, which I tried and has made it look better. I love being adorned with jewellery but I don’t love the maintenance!
After our last display finished at 6pm, we headed back to the hall. I’d brought some yarn and a crochet hook with me because I’ve tried and failed many times to teach myself to crochet, and Sarah is a stupefyingly good crocheter, so we spent the evening having a crochet lesson. It was certainly a relaxing way to spend one’s final night of being 20, even if it resulted in frustration from working out where all my fingers should go! I now understand it better than I did before thanks to Sarah’s help — I just need practice.
When I emerged from Sarah’s room, Jamie, Fosbrooks’ long-standing pianist who now only occasionally shows his face, was playing the piano as everyone sang along. They were singing ‘The Lord’s my Shepherd’ because we were to be singing it at our hour-long set on the Thursday, but I made a special request. Any guesses? If I had a hammer, of course. What else? It was a really pleasant and memorable evening, and a great way to put my 20th year to bed.
Monday, 4th August 2025 The big day! I was once again one of the first to wake, and the first thing I did was open the three presents my mum had given me. They were The Picture of Dorian Gray, complete with a cute little bookmark, the Billie Eilish perfume, and a blue top from River Island. The book came at the perfect time as I had finished reading Little Women that same morning. Then, when my friends had finally risen, they presented me with their present for me: a pretzel Jellycat keyring! It’s funny, because I’d always wanted a Jellycat but I feel they’re something you have to be gifted rather than bought yourself, but as if by chance, we had one at the charity shop the previous week where I treated myself — it was only £5. So, I’ve gone from having zero to two in the space of a couple of weeks. Perhaps it’s the start of an obsessive collection…
On the way down, I was on the hunt for the new iced vanilla berry Red Bull at the service station, but they sadly didn’t have it. Imagine the joy on my face when Ollie, my not-so-little mate with nearly 2 foot on me, surprised me with it! The best types of gifts are the ones they know you’ve been wanting, so I felt really grateful he’d gone through that effort for me. Liza then presented me with my present from her and Phil: a cooling lunchbox (which I jokingly call a dinnerbox because I’m northern) with a cheery lemon print. The second-best types of gifts are practical ones you would never think to buy yourself, and I’ve used it almost daily since I got it — my presents ended up fitting the bill.
I was gifted coach music privileges for the day, therefore I chose to blast my favourite songs en-route to our performances. Typically, my birthday was the rainiest day of the week, so we worried our first display would be rained off. However, Fosbrooks always find a way to make do, so we wore rain ponchos, making us look a bit silly, but the show had to go on! Liza announced at every performance that it was my 21st birthday, so I had to stand at the front whilst the audience sang to me. I later learnt she had purposely excluded some of our repertoire to ensure there was enough time for happy birthday, which I find both funny and sweet.
21-year-old Ela ready for her school trip; she’s even got a poncho and a lunchbox!
We had to eat dinner on the coach because of the rain. We then had some free time to explore the town, so we made our way to a music shop as I was on the hunt for a new violin case — mine is ridiculously heavy and left me with little biceps by the end of the week. I didn’t end up finding one in Sidmouth, but I remembered that my old violin was in my loft, so I’ve swapped the cases round, and I’ll buy a proper case when the time is right. We tried some of the instruments in the music shop which ended with customers applauding us. I also bought myself a rose quartz palm stone, a birthday gift to myself as you can never have too many crystals.
The lads: Charlie (left) and Ollie (right)
Our second performance of the day was fortunately under a bandstand. The rain had gone off a bit, until the exact moment we went on, when the heavens truly did open! It meant our audience was probably a bit smaller than it could have been, but I don’t blame them! After our third performance in the Blackmore Marquee, we got food in town for tea because our next display was at the ceilidh, so we thought it’d be easier to stay out all day. I went to a food stall at the festival for a halloumi burger (one of my favourite foods), and when I told them it was my birthday, they gave me some chips and a drink for free! For someone who was scared of their birthday a few days prior, I learnt that you have to milk it for what you can get sometimes.
After we ate and did our 10-minute set at the ceilidh, it was party time. The plaits were soon out, and we all got into our glad rags for an evening of dancing. I’d bought a dress from the charity shop for the occasion, and I fell in love with it despite not being a big dress person. Even if I never wear it again, which I reckon I will, you can’t go wrong for the hefty price of £1. I noticed that my morris friends weren’t at the ceilidh after promising they would be, but oh well — I had my Fosbrooks friends instead.
Not bad for a quid, is it?
We didn’t stay for too long as we had an early workshop the next morning. We ended the night back at the village hall with a couple of glasses of wine with cheese and biscuits. We also had some dolma, a Turkish delicacy consisting of vine leaves stuffed with rice, but nobody else besides me seemed to like them. I must get points for embracing my culture on my birthday. When it was time for bed, my tipsy brain knew it would be too dangerous to descend the stage steps to get to my bed, ergo I did the safest alternative: I did a running jump off the stage, across three people in their beds, to get to mine. It’s a real shame I can’t post videos on here; it was hilarious at the time.
Tuesday, 5th August 2025 The day after my birthday marked the birthday of another special Fosbrooks member: Becky. We sang happy birthday to her, and I passed on my birthday girl rosette. Our first event of the day was a clogging workshop in a tent on top of a massive hill, which wasn’t fun to walk up with a bulky violin case. Us non-dancers sat outside the workshop with John, Becky’s husband, to practice a tune we needed to perfect for our performance on Thursday, taking turns getting our hair done as we didn’t have time before leaving.
Two performances later, we went back to the hall for tea and to get ready for another ceilidh. I wore the top my mum had given me for my birthday, which looked really nice on. The following day was our day off, therefore I decided that if I was going to drink a lot, this night would be the best to do it. I ended up getting three drinks at the ceilidh, which frankly left me quite tipsy — I’m small and don’t drink often, meaning my tolerance is low. Lots of laughing and dancing were done by us, even though we didn’t understand some dances and made them up as we went along!
Once back, myself and the others who were of age shared a bottle of wine between us. Sarah told me she’d bought me a birthday cake they’d forgotten to give me and light the candles for, so we opened it then. John also surprised Becky with a birthday cake and a chocolate tray bake for us to pass around, making it a very sweet night in more ways than one. I concluded it was time for bed as the wine had made me rather drunk.
Wednesday, 6th August 2025 Our day off was finally here. It was also our coach driver’s day off, meaning we weren’t allowed to use the coach at all. We started the morning by practising some tunes with John, until I was sent off to teach a tune to one of the youngest ones. I taught her half of it, until I started feeling ill out of nowhere. I sent her off to practise it herself, and I found the least visible place to lie down, Ollie’s camp bed, which was hidden behind the stage curtains. This is what I mean when I said I get terrible hangovers!
I slept through a couple of the rehearsals, and I’m very glad even now that I wasn’t woken up for them. In my half-asleep stupor, I’d asked Charlie if he could get me an iced latte from the shop, but he told me they didn’t have any. When I’d eventually gained the energy to move, I snuck off to look for myself and he was right — the village shop was few and far between. I bought myself the next best thing: a Red Bull, and the minimum on card was £2.50, so I also walked out with a bottle of Diet Coke.
The Red Bull thankfully sorted me right out, meaning I was able to participate in the later rehearsals in front of the hall. The few residents of Colaton Raleigh, the village where we stayed, probably didn’t know what had hit them! Hannah James, an ex-Fosbrooks member who performed with us at the show on Thursday, came to visit us with her partner and adorable daughter, giving us good practice should any of us be having kids.
We had a BBQ-style tea sitting outside, which was nice despite the increasingly cool weather and wasps that wanted a piece of the action. We spent the evening at the pub, where, after the events of the day, I wisely ordered a lime and soda. But, at £2.25 for the privilege, it would have been more cost-effective to get a pint! We sat in the pub garden having piggy-back races (that I won), playing primary school playground games, and generally acting a bit juvenile, until we went back to the hall and went to bed.
Thursday, 7th August 2025 To shock our systems after our calm day off, we had to be at the tent for another workshop at 9:30am! Up the hill, we went off with John again to play through tunes, and we even learnt a new one. When you’ve been in Fosbrooks for as long as me, it’s not often you learn new material — it’s more likely that I’ll be teaching a younger member a tune, so it’s nice to keep my brain active and learn something new once in a while.
To ensure we didn’t run out, we were told to bring at least four white shirts with us for our costume. Liza had told me to get some nice blouses for this, as we normally just wear white long-sleeve school shirts, and I’d managed to find two that I liked. I wore the first one on my birthday, and she told me that our most important shows were on the Thursday, meaning I was saving my other one for then. They’re much comfier, cooler, and not to mention prettier than school shirts, and I think they add a nice personal touch to the costume.
It was good that I’d saved it for today, because our next stop was our hour-long ‘Chance to Meet’ show. For the first time this week, the youngest girls performed the sword dances they’d been practising. Niall, one of our members and lovely adult volunteers, had taught it to them this year and I could see the tension in his face as they were dancing, so imagine our collective relief when they successfully formed the star and received a huge round of applause.
Hannah James also did a little performance of her own during our set, where she performed one of her tunes on the accordion. It was a really beautiful tune and a pleasant transition from the usual Fosbrooks repertoire. She then joined our dancers to perform our ‘wardrobe door’ routine, as well as the iconic Mrs Willis’ dance in our final set of the show, The Maid Behind the Bar. This show was our best performance yet, with an impressed audience that pays testimony.
Next, another procession. Because of how hard I found playing the whistle as well as walking it, I chose to spend this one holding the collection bucket. It was normally Sarah and Audrey in charge of this, but they told me they’d probably be more likely to give money to me as I was wearing kit unlike them. I managed to get a few bits of change, but it was surprisingly difficult as there were so many teams around us that some people would say, “Sorry, I gave my money to them”, referring to the team in front, which was annoying, but simply the nature of processions. After our short set following the procession, we had some free time, so Niall, with how proud he was of his sword dancing team, took everyone for an ice cream. I didn’t fancy it, so I instead decided to spend my free time getting my portrait done in Blackmore Gardens. I’d walked past this man drawing people’s portraits who had intrigued me, so I thought that I may as well. I had to sit in the chair for about an hour, trying to gauge the meaning of passersby’s reactions to his drawing, and it thankfully turned out amazing! I sent a picture of it to my mum, and she said she’s going to find a frame to hang it in our house.
When we got back to the hall, we soon went back out to Tesco, and I actually decided to go this time. I could understand why they enjoyed going: a whole coach for just our age group, playing the music we liked (when we had service, which there isn’t a lot of down there), and able to buy what we wanted. I was on the hunt for a Monster for the following morning — we all became caffeine fiends over the week to combat the long days and sleep deprivation. When we got back, the other ones who hadn’t gone were playing bingo, so we joined in a few games before bedtime.
Friday, 8th August 2025 Our last day of performances. It had been an absolutely fantastic week of friendship, frolicking, and folk music, but it had been equally intense, so I was happy to be nearing the end. Our first set of the day, and penultimate performance, was on the seafront, followed by our final individual show: an overture and set to open the dance show in Connaught Gardens. I bumped into my morris team of friends who failed to turn up to my birthday ceilidh — they told me they hoped I had a great birthday, and they’d completely forgotten that they’d arranged a cocktail night on the same night. I joked that I should have been invited, but then told them not to worry; I had a fun night regardless.
We spent our last afternoon on the beach, this time far busier as the weather was nicer than the previous time. Some people chose to explore the town, but I decided to lie on the beach and continue my book, the one I’d received for my birthday. I was engrossed by Oscar Wilde’s writing and found it a shame what had happened to him; I’d have loved to read more of his novels.
Liza took a few of us sitting on the beach to buy an ice cream on the promenade. I chose the salted caramel and cookies and cream flavours, which were both delicious, made even more delicious by the picturesque view of the English Channel. I then spent time searching for a pretty rock on the beach to take home as a souvenir, where I joked about my maturity of turning 21 and spending my first week of it rock hunting! I ended up taking home a nice little white rock with quartz inside. I’m like a magpie — my eyes are drawn to shiny things. The very last event we had was the torchlit procession and closing ceremony of the festival at 10pm that night. So, we went back to the hall beforehand to have our tea and get ready. We each had a set of fairy lights to put on ourselves somehow so we’d be seen in the dark, and because I wasn’t bringing an instrument, I threaded them through my waistcoat and wrapped them around myself. We sang a few songs in the village hall car park to raise morale, my favourite included, until it was time to go.
The whole gang
I was given two torches to hold in the procession, which excited and scared me in equal measure. I was told we were to be ending on the beach, and I needed to walk to the water and wait until the fireworks started, where I would dip the torches in the sea to put them out. This didn’t quite go to plan, as the flames had reached the bottom and therefore my hand before the fireworks, so I had to throw it on the ground! Typically, the fireworks started soon after where I instantly forgot about anything else because they were spectacular. Jamie and John even started playing Firework by Katy Perry on their instruments, which was a lovely added touch.
Once back, Liza thought it a good idea for Jamie to get on the piano for one last primary-school singsong. Liza had told us all that this would be her final big festival with us, as she was getting old and wanted to pass the responsibility on to her protégé, Zoe. This made us feel emotional — we’d grown up with Liza and we know it’ll feel different without her, so when Jamie started playing Wild Mountain Thyme, we all burst into tears. “Come on, Jamie – play something a bit more upbeat!” I said between sobs, but no, we all sang, with an air of bittersweet. A beautiful end to the week.
“Ela, how did you spend your first Friday night of being 21?”
Saturday, 9th August 2025 After all the commotion of Friday, I woke up feeling absolutely knackered, but I wanted a shower before everyone else woke up and needed to start packing my things for our return to Stockport. When Liza was up, she asked me, “What was all that performance about last night?”, to which I explained it was moving for us as we’ve grown up with her and she’s all we’ve ever known, but she didn’t really get it because, in her words, she’s “not dead yet”! You can always rely on Liza for some tough love. Audrey kindly made me a ‘facon’ butty for breakfast, a tasty start which fuelled me to pack everything back in my suitcase and help load the coach. To give the helpers time to tidy the hall, we took the younger ones to the park, where I hitched a lift on Ollie’s back. After the week we’d had, we spent the time sitting on the grass, not doing much, until it was time to take the kids back and start our long journey home.
Who needs legs when you’ve got an Ollie?
The coach journey was quiet for most of the way since we were all exhausted, a large contrast from the way down, but we did end it with a few belters for old time’s sake. As with most Fosbrooks trips I go on, I’m happy to get home after a jam-packed week of performing, but I feel a twinge of sadness that I’m no longer going to be constantly surrounded by my friends — I suppose it’s part of the process. When I finally got home and saw my mum, the house had banners and ‘21’ balloons, and I was able to celebrate my birthday again, this time with family, so the novelty had yet to wear off.
Closing thoughts
It was an absolutely incredible experience performing at Sidmouth Folk Festival; I’d heard many of the older ones in Fosbrooks tell me how great Sidmouth is, so I’m grateful to have seen it as part of Liza’s final big festival. As I’m used to going to Whitby, my main impression of Sidmouth as a town was that it’s very reminiscent of Whitby, which happens to be my favourite place in the UK, except smaller and therefore more manageable for a first trip there.
As aforementioned at the start, I didn’t really know how to feel about the fact it was going to fall on my birthday, but it meant in actual fact that whenever anyone asks me, “What did you do for your 21st birthday?”, I’m forever going to remember the answer! While it definitely isn’t a common celebration for your milestone birthday to spend it wearing a traditional velvet waistcoat playing the fiddle, I wouldn’t have had it any other way.
In the last few months, I’ve done plenty of research into mental health in the hopes of ‘curing myself’. **While far from an easy task, I like to view every piece of knowledge I gain as a tiny piece of the puzzle, each one bringing me a step closer to feasible mental peace in my everyday life. If you’re on a similar journey, I’d highly recommend learning the science behind our brains and our anxiety; I found that once I’d discovered why my brain does what it does, self-compassion came naturally. It helped me make peace with the fact that, even if I don’t always like what my brain is doing, there’s usually a reason for it, and I can often figure out what might stop or lessen it. At first, I found it hard to accept that I’ll likely always be an anxious person who overthinks, but it’s the way I respond to my overthinking that decides whether it rules over me or not.
When I discussed this idea with my therapist, he gave me a piece of advice: make friends with your overthinking voice. The logic is that the overthinking is usually trying to protect you, normally due to negative childhood experiences, and it doesn’t understand you’re no longer a child in need of constant danger warnings. I tried following this advice, but the problem was that I’d become anxious by the very appearance of anxious thoughts, leading me to think, “Why are we still worrying about this? It’s stupid and I don’t need to!”, and eventually, “Oh my God, I’m going to have this anxiety forever!”
I pushed his advice aside, but when I remembered it later and really thought about it, I began to imagine myself as a child, crying in the corner after being reprimanded. It broke my heart because it made me empathise with my inner child, and I felt guilty for being so mean to her. Months before my 2nd birthday, I spent 12 days in intensive care fighting for my life, and here I was having a go at that innocent girl for trying to protect me. I couldn’t keep doing that.
How could I be mean to that?
As we’ve just learned, I know that making myself feel bad for feeling bad wouldn’t help the situation, so I forgave myself for the previous mistakes in my healing journey. I fully committed myself to my therapist’s advice of making friends with my overthinking, treating it as though it’s my inner child, which, in a way, it is. A realisation that tied in beautifully with this was the thought that if little me could see me now, she’d find our life so bloody cool. I’ve got a car, a big bedroom with a double bed (after 15 years in a box room), tattoos and piercings, dyed hair, money to (reasonably) buy what I want, I’m going back to uni soon to live with my friends without parents. How cool is that?
This revelation pushed me to live and see things differently. Now, when I’m doing something, even if it’s mundane, I think about what little me would feel if she were doing it. For example, I might be in my online French lesson feeling bored, until I think of how cool she would find it that she speaks advanced French, and can even afford one-to-one tutoring. It’s a way to put a positive spin on life. (Fun fact: did you know anxiety sufferers are shown to have higher IQs? Every cloud, right?) When I catch myself in negative self-talk, I realise I’d never say those things to anyone else, least of all my child self, and I switch my voice to a kinder one. This voice nurtures the overthinking and diminishes it with time.
Another idea I’ve adopted is switching up my routine. Have you ever noticed that time feels faster as we get older? One reason is that we establish routines where our days blend together, unlike in childhood when we’d constantly experience new things. So, the reason I do it is not only because I loved novelty when I was little, but it also makes time feel slower. For me it could be visiting somewhere I’ve never been before , cooking a new food, anything really.
I would often forget to apply this whole practice at first and when I remembered, I’d say to myself, “YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE TALKING TO YOURSELF LIKE YOU’RE STILL A CHILD! WE’RE NEVER GOING TO MANAGE THIS!” But thankfully, with time, it’s become more innate. I even keep a picture of little me in the back of my phone case on which I’ve scrawled, “Make her proud!” When I look at it, I ask myself whether I’m making her proud, and if I happen to be spiralling, it snaps me out of it and anchors me back in the present. There’s a whole world of things you can do to heal your inner child I haven’t yet tried. A lot of healing comes from exploring early experiences and how they shape the way we see the world now. There are countless journaling out there that I’ll definitely be trying. For now, though, I’m taking it one step at a time, and I think the one I’m taking now is a good start: I live every day to make my little self proud — she deserves it.
I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m now officially 21, legal drinking age in the USA. While I still don’t understand why it’s considered a milestone birthday in the UK, I was quite apprehensive about my approaching birthday because I was uncomfortable with the concept of getting older. I ended up having a fantastic birthday celebration as I spent it performing in Sidmouth with my Fosbrook family — I’ve started writing the post for it, so you’ll be able to read all about it very soon.
There were others older than me on the trip who were telling me things along the lines of, “If you think you’re old now, wait till you get to my age!”, along with passer-byes at the festivaI in Sidmouth who were telling me to enjoy my youth. This made me realise that although turning 21 can seem scary, it isn’t old at all, and especially not with our increasing life expectancies. I pondered upon the idea of what I’ve learnt this year, which then aroused the question of, “What are the life lessons I’ve learnt in my 21 years?”, thus the idea for this article was born. Maybe you’ll learn something new from my own learning experiences…
1. You have so much to offer that goes beyond physical attributes It’s no secret that our society values physical beauty and feeds us the narrative that it’s the be-all and end-all. This idea fails to take into account the fact that we’re all multifaceted people with passions, interests, strengths, weaknesses, an entire story beyond how we look. I enjoy expressing myself with my appearance, e.g. I love doing creative eye makeup and adorning myself with tattoos and piercings, but I know that how I look is the least interesting thing about me. If you think I look cool, try talking to me about my life.
2. Being alone is better than being with the wrong person As a teenager, I used to dream of having a boyfriend for no significant reason besides feeling less alone. Having been in two relationships this year that have both ended, I’ve realised that yes, being in a relationship can be nice, but they aren’t always smooth sailing. They require work from both parties, and walking away can sometimes be the best choice. I’ve since come to peace with the fact that being single isn’t a bad thing and I’ll settle down when the time is right. I don’t need a man to come and ‘save’ me; I’m already a whole person by myself who can do as she pleases. This also applies to platonic relationships; if you’re in a room full of people but you still feel lonely, that may well be a sign that they aren’t your people.
3. Everyone has their own lives so don’t take things personally If I ever got ignored by someone via text, or I walked past someone I knew and they didn’t talk to me, I used to convince myself I’d done something wrong. I’d tell myself that they’d made the conscious decision of, “I’m going to ignore Ela today”, until I realised that that’s very unlikely to be the case. I might be the centre of my universe, but I’m not the centre of everyone else’s, so the more likely scenario is that they didn’t even realise they’d forgotten to reply, they didn’t see me because they had too much on their mind to notice me, or some other reason I’d not even considered. I no longer take things personally because at the end of the day, I’m not as important to other people as I am to myself, and that’s okay.
4. Nobody’s looking at you as much as you think Have you ever heard of the ‘spotlight effect’? Essentially, it’s the social phenomenon where people overestimate how much people are looking at them, as if they have a big spotlight over their head. Related to the previous point, but it’s so natural to worry about what others think of us – we’re social creatures with a longing to be accepted – that it’s actually more likely that strangers are worrying about their own presentation. Even when I do notice that people are looking at me funny, I don’t let that stop me from enjoying my own life; it says more about them than me if they’re choosing to judge me. Strangers will never know my story, so why am I going to let them ruin my mood?
5. Comparison is the thief of joy I’d say that my Achilles Heel is comparing myself to other people. I tend to worry too much about whether I’m ‘doing life’ right that, even if I am doing something I enjoy, I’ll put myself in a bad mood by telling myself I ‘shouldn’t’ be doing it by some arbitrary standard. For example, if I’m spending a Saturday night on my own doing one of my hobbies, I’ll consider the fact that I could or should be making the most of my youth by going out with my friends, which will then make me feel insecure about the fact I’m having a night in. Social media is largely to blame for this feeling, but I also know that comparing myself to what others are doing isn’t helpful. There are 8 billion people on this planet, all with completely different lives, so it’s impossible to be doing it wrong. I’m going to enjoy my weekends in on my own, even if some might say it makes me boring!
6. Have some compassion for yourself Something I’ve learnt this year on my healing journey, is that the more you beat yourself up for having a certain thought, the more it’s going to return — our brain’s job is to keep us safe, so if you react with anxiety, it thinks it’s helping and will continue. When I was living in Geneva and even after that, I knew that logically, my anxiety wasn’t rational, and that I was way too strong and smart to be worrying over it, but this only fed the cycle. Nowadays, both through therapy and my own reflection, I’m a lot more aware of why I have these thoughts and have thankfully learnt to control them better. When I do occasionally let myself spiral, I get through it by speaking to myself with kindness and not with phrases like, “This is stupid — stop worrying over it”, which was my previous way of thinking.
7. Loneliness is a gift — embrace it Building on from ‘comparison is the thief of joy’, I used to have this false idea that fun could only be achieved with other people — what a load of rubbish! I’d say that nowadays, between my friends having their own lives, my brother recently moving out, and my parents working, I spend a lot of time on my own, and I wholeheartedly enjoy being able to do what I want. Don’t get me wrong, it’s impossible to live life completely away from others, and it can be unhealthy to go too far in the opposite direction, but if you believe that being alone is ‘boring’, you’re setting yourself out to live an unfulfilling life where you’re constantly relying on others. Diane Nguyen from Bojack Horseman once said, “You’re responsible for your own happiness”, which rings especially true here.
8. Do creative things often A concept I brought up in my article about mental health and creative hobbies, but one of the great things that came out of Geneva, was that I was encouraged to pick up a range of hobbies to distract myself from my anxiety. Pre-Geneva, I’d spend most of my free time either on my phone or watching telly, but now, I have so many other things I do to fill my time that I hardly even have the time to scroll on my phone! Today, for example, I read some of my book first thing, I did some morning yoga, went on a walk, played on my Switch, did some pilates, did some colouring, and now I’m writing this. What is more, I still have yet to write in my journal and do my bedtime yoga and meditation. Yes, not everything I mentioned is necessarily creative, but I’d say that doing almost anything is better than scrolling on my phone where I’ll instantly forget what I’ve seen. Creative hobbies are especially good as they’re a reliever of stress and reduce the chance of cognitive decline. Following on from the previous point, maybe you need to try a new hobby, creative or not, if you want to feel less bored by solitude.
9. You don’t have to have everything figured out I think this is especially relevant to the time of life I’m currently in; I’m seeing all my uni friends graduate when I still have another year, my connections on Linkedin are posting their swanky new job offers, some people my age are travelling the world, and me? I get asked what I want to do once I’ve finished uni and my answer is still, “I don’t really know…” I think that part of the problem with me is that I get excited when I think about the opportunities my degree could give me, but I have too many ideas and don’t yet know how to get there. It’s the good old fig tree metaphor from The Bell Jar again; I fear I may starve to death because I’m too busy trying to choose the best fig before they all rot. But I know that being an adult isn’t ‘real’ — we’re all just big kids in adult bodies trying to get by, and none of us have it figured out. My plan is, I’ll pick one of the figs, and if I don’t like it, I’ll pick another, and if they’re all rotting, I’ll find another tree!
Side note: how many times have I brought up The Bell Jar on this blog? If anyone has a lot of free time, make a tally and let me know!
10. There is beauty and whimsy everywhere When I’m in a particularly deep state of thinking, I’ll sometimes look around and think, “Look how amazing this is, yet we’re all so anxious and depressed.” I say this referring to the fact that, for example, many of us own these fancy machines that get us from A to B in a jiffy, we have easy access to food and goods from all across the world, I live a short walk away from green spaces filled with beautiful pieces of nature, the list can go on. I’m not saying we should be happy 24/7 – we all have our own lives and struggles – but I’m a believer that our society profits from our discontentment. When I first heard about the idea of gratitude, I found it a bit hippy dippy because “what difference is that going to make?”, but honestly, since I started adding a ‘smile list’ to all my journal entries, it’s helped me to flip the narrative. When I’m going through a stressful time, I try to remind myself that it’s a privilege that this is my biggest problem. It obviously doesn’t magic away the problem, but it can stop me from spiralling about things that, in the grand scheme of things, are insignificant.
11. Family time is precious I’ll be the first to admit that families can be a pain at times. When I was in Switzerland, however, seeing my mum, nephew and dog was all I wished to do. Now, when I’m deciding whether I have the energy to go to my Grandma’s and have her ask me the same questions every week, I’ll remember the fact that even having a family is a blessing, and she won’t be here forever, so I go and I let her ask me the same questions every week. At her funeral, we’ll probably all sit and laugh about the stupid things she’d say!
12. Happiness is created, not found A quote I read in a book this year that really stuck with me. It’s the contradiction to the idea of telling ourselves we’ll be happy once our lives look a certain way, say when we get such a job or we have x amount of money. It’s great to have big aspirations, but the reality is your problems in life won’t be solved by these things — it’s our own minds and the narratives we feed them that determine our happiness. For example, if I tell myself, “I’ll be happy once I’ve finished uni and graduated”, then my subconscious will internalise this and prevent me from being happy, until I have the brief contentment of graduation, when I’ll then come up with a new circumstance that’s getting in the way of my happiness. I now take every step as it comes and try to enjoy where I’m at in this moment.
13. Appreciate the journey This is similar to the previous point but I still deem it worth mentioning. So often do we get fixated on a specific goal that we end up basking in the feeling of not yet having it, making ourselves miserable. If you believe in the law of attraction, this is called a ‘limiting belief’ which confuses the universe; you say you want something, yet you’re constantly having negative thoughts around it, decreasing your chances of achieving the goal. If you don’t believe in that, being unhappy by the fact you don’t yet have what you want is no recipe for happy living; if anything, the fact of not having it should drive you to get up and work towards it. It’s like with me right now, I sometimes feel down because I’m stuck at home and can’t currently work much towards my degree, but I know it’s only a small chapter of my life that will get me to where I’m eventually supposed to be.
14. Know when to say no I’m sure you’re all familiar with the fear of missing out. Well, here’s another idea you might have less experience with: the joy of missing out. There have been countless occasions where I’ve agreed to an event purely so I wouldn’t miss anything, then proceeded to sit there and wish I hadn’t gone. I now try to evaluate how agreeing to something would make me feel, not anybody else. It’s easy to be a people pleaser and worry about how others could interpret your response, but you’re your own priority. Your friends aren’t going to shun you because you’ve given a swerve to a few nights out, and if they do, they aren’t your friends!
15. Going out (often) isn’t worth the hangover An extension of the ‘know when to say no’ point. When I first turned 18, I would go out and drink at every possible opportunity because of the novelty above all else. The older I get, though, the more I realise that nights out are just more hassle than they’re worth; they’re overpriced and leave me feeling like death the following day. I’ve also realised that I don’t need alcohol to have fun, so I save my tipples for special occasions. This isn’t to say I don’t drink at all, because my logic is now: I’m only going to drink if it’s worth it, i.e. I won’t just have one drink with a meal because I’d rather go all out if I’ll have a hangover either way!
16. Money comes back, but opportunities don’t I wouldn’t say I’m a very materialistic person; I hate buying new clothes because I’d rather wait until I actually need them, therefore I prefer to spend my money on experiences and things I can do. I’ll sometimes make myself feel bad for ‘wasting’ my money on these things in case ‘I need the money in the future’. While this is true to an extent, there’s no guarantee that I’ll have the future I’m saving it for, and I’d rather live a life I enjoy now than a boring life just to save up. Not to mention that this is probably one of the last years of my life where I’ll be able to spontaneously go away and do these exciting things, so I’m going to guiltlessly take a trip every now and then.
17. Never stop being curious and learning new things As proven in countless studies, lifelong learning is one of the lesser-discussed keys to happiness. It not only keeps your mind active, lowering the risk of dementia in later life, but it also improves self-confidence and overall makes you a more well-rounded person. I’ve always loved to learn new things, and one of the ways I incorporate this into my daily life, is by listening to pub quiz podcasts on Spotify. Of course I also do it through my regular reading and language learning, but this is a more niche idea I recently chose to incorporate, and I’m really enjoying it as a lover of general knowledge.
18. Hard times never last forever, even if they feel like they will Fairly self-explanatory. When I was in Geneva, I was convinced I was never going to be happy again. Looking back, I can see that this was because I was so disconnected from my life back home — it was almost as if I’d ‘forgotten’ everything from pre-year abroad. While I’d still say I struggle with this idea a little bit, because I sometimes beat myself up for getting anxious over things even though it’s not like I was perfectly anxiety-free before Geneva, I now know that it’s a part of life and every feeling will pass.
19. Every experience and relationship teaches you something When my aforementioned relationships ended, of course I was disappointed at first, but I also chose to take them as learning experiences. Some people’s first thoughts might have been, “I just wasted x months on my life on them,” whereas mine sounded more like, “At least I know more about my likes and dislikes, and what to do in the next relationship.” I take a similar approach to any dates I go on or events I get invited to — even though they might not have gone ‘well’, there’s still always something to learn from them.
20. The most important person in your life is YOU A point I’ve briefly touched on over the course of this article. Especially as women because we’re raised this way, it’s so easy to minimise our own needs to satisfy others, leaving us feeling exhausted and less content. I’m now really trying to internalise the concept that my needs will always be my own priority, and they aren’t going to be the priority of everyone else, so I need to treat myself like I would treat someone I love. This means that I do things to benefit my future self, speak to myself with kindness, and (try to) do what will benefit me the most. Something I would highly recommend to help you with this, if you haven’t already, is work out what your ‘love language’ is, and learn to apply it to yourself. Mine is words of affirmation, which means I write letters to my future self and celebrate my little wins; it’s how I’d want to be treated by a lover, so why not treat myself like this?
21. Overthinking doesn’t change the outcome This is my favourite thing I’ve learnt in recent months. It also fits in nicely with a quote I recently came across: “Worrying doesn’t take away tomorrow’s troubles — it only takes away today’s peace.” Our brain loves to come up with the worst outcome for what we’re doing or planning to do, which is where our anxiety comes from. When I’m worrying, I try to challenge that thought by asking my brain, “What are we gaining from worrying about this before it’s actually happened?” which helps to quiet the thought. An extension to this point is that “overthinking doesn’t change the outcome, nor does it make you any more prepared”, which I also like, because as easy as it may be to think your brain is helping by preparing for every outcome, things can still happen that we never predicted, and we always get through them.
It was initially hard to come up with 21 points, but when the ideas started flowing, I then found it hard to limit to 21. This means I’ve actually learnt plenty more than only these life lessons, and I know I’ll never stop learning them. Nor should you, hopefully, so get out there, and take my points with you if you didn’t already know them. It’ll make you more fulfilled, and if you think it’s overwhelming to remember every single one, just remember the main message of most of these lessons, which is: “You’re the most important person in your life. Stop worrying what others think.”
