Back down the rabbithole.

Right. Well. Lads. How are we.

It has been an unnaturally long time since my last post, and honestly I feel that this should be preluded with “Forgive me Father*, for I have sinned” because I feel that writing this is the closest that I have come to confession since skipping the mandatory pre-confirmation confession session with Father Liam when I was 12 because I had a dance class**.

ANYWHO. A LOT has happened since my last post. To give you a brief recap***, I was incredibly stressed, incredibly unstable (still am, but making it cute and quirky x), had nowhere to live and had no clue where I was going in life. HA what a LAUGH.

So. Basically. Since then, to give you all a not-so-brief summary, not long after my last post, I headed home for Electric Picnic, which I was BEYOND buzzing for, and in all seriousness, the countdown to flying home for it was what kept me going through my aforementioned bleaker moments from previous posts.

This excitement was overshadowed by my panic as the plane took off when I suddenly realised that although I was about to embark on a week long escape to my homeland, I had no idea what I would return to seven days later upon landing back in Heathrow. So. I cried. A lot. To be honest, I’m still unsure as to which I found more upsetting; the stress that I was experiencing in my personal life or the fact that Aer Lingus had charged me €3 for a mid-flight cup of peppermint tea.

Having landed in Cork City, my next step was to do what any millennial ultimately does upon feeling the pressure of life – I got my nails done, I got my hair cut, and I met up with pals and expressed my worries and woes over vegan pancakes**** and Ramen deliveries, which resulted once again in my tears and their reassurance that everything would be fine and to enjoy EP.

This statement was reiterated by my Spice Girls as they picked me up with my sleeping bag and cans of gin in tow at some ungodly hour as we made our way to the weekend of dreams. Before we had even reached the Fermoy toll, they had imminently put me on a London discussion ban for the duration of our time in Stradbally – something which really put me at ease and was further aided by the cleansing of my soul by both Hozier and Florence Welch. I needed to allow myself to have a great weekend – it’s what I had flown home for and what was the point in my being there if it wasn’t hoolie o’clock, ya feel?

I ended up having the best time and really appreciated this weekend away from the manic energies that I had submerged myself into in London, but this high soon took a dip once my car pulled back into my driveway in Cork and my stress levels peaked. I was full of dread and fear once again and I even considered postponing my flight back to a later date as the thoughts of going back to an unconventional situation had me crying on tap.

I didn’t let myself think that everything would turn out alright, and the idea of heading back to the unknown was, in fact, a scarily exciting adventure. I should have allowed myself to be scared and not let it consume my days, expressed with tears of frustration and fear and ultimately overriding my few days at home in Cork.

Ultimately, everything has resulted in an extremely positive situation and I am BEYOND happy (all to be depicted in a further posting as I’ve rambled for too long about this ongoing event). The last few weeks have been an adventure and a half, and I’ve survived and I’m excited to tell the tales.

For the first time in forever*****, I am in a pretty solid place mentally, socially and professionally, and that’s all that I need to steer me in a solid direction as I dive head first back down the rabbithole for year two of this adventure.

Until next time.

Much love and respect to ya pals,

Al x

*When I say “Father”, I am solely referring to Andrew Scott as the Hot Priest in season two of “Fleabag”. If you know, you know. And if you don’t then you should. That “kneel”. God bless us all.

**Delighted to see that I put my dancing career before the cleansing of my unholy sins, to think that had I gone to confession instead of grade 5 tap then maybe I wouldn’t be the world class dancer that I am today…

*** And here’s what you missed on “Glee”.

**** I’m a vegan now and in true vegan fashion feel the need to express this wherever I can.

*****Ugh Disney cast me as “Anna” you cowards.

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