I am an Extrovert, and I am Depressed

I'm the type of person who likes to seem like they have their shit together. I understand on a conceptual level that my happiness matters more than the opinion of others, but I secretly get a smug sense of satisfaction when my external appearance and personality makes it seem like I have my life together more than everyone else. 

The last time I went to the airport, I spent more time thinking about how I could fabulously get through security with an air of grace and style than I did actually packing to leave. I didn't care that I hadn't slept in almost 48 hours, that I should be excited about returning home to see my family but was instead feeling scared and frustrated. All I cared about was turning heads with an awe of "that girl looks flawless in an airport, her life must be so together." 

The truth is, I don't have my life together- at all. But the truth is also that it's all too easy to make it seem like I do. And the validation I feel when another person compliments how amazing my life seems always keeps me from spilling the truth. For my friends living in the states, my life seems like the coolest adventure ever. I live across the ocean in a huge metropolitan city, I go to exclusive events with pretty people, I'm constantly seemingly doing something cool that's helping my career or my status in life. 

And for my friends here in London, it's all too easy to look in my closet and pick out an outfit that's appropriate instead of the trashy jumper I'd rather be wearing. It's part of my day to put on makeup to cover the bags under my eyes, to put my hair up in a cute twist so you can't see that it hasn't been washed in almost a week. It's all too easy to make myself so unbelievably busy that it looks like I'm doing great - I'm happy and involved and engaged with the world. Constantly ignoring that there's a point where being busy is an avoidance mechanism. You can't be depressed if you don't have time to think about being depressed. 

And my personality doesn't help either. I'm an extrovert in the worst way possible. I can hide my depression with my confidence when I speak to others. Hide my exhaustion with my boisterous voice when I'm networking in a room full of people. My personality tells me that the more I fake it till I make it, the happier I'll be when I come out on the other side. I'm constantly telling myself that my depression is fleeting. If I go to one more event, pretend for one more day, maybe tomorrow is the day I'm not pretending anymore. 

And this is not to worry you, this isn't a call for help, I'm aware of my mental health issues and I'm handling them privately. This isn't about social media, this isn't another millennial complaining about society, this isn't about making the world feel #relatable and creating a false sense of togetherness. But this is about the realities we create for ourselves. You never really know what's going through a person's mind. You're never going to feel the way they see the world, you're never going to truly understand someone's demons. But what can we do? We can empathise. We can stop judging. We can stop putting people on pedestals.

Try to keep in mind, extroverts can have depression too. And in my experience, my personality has made it so much easier to hide it. Mental health takes so many different forms, and we have to remember that what's on the surface is almost never what's going on behind the scenes. We have to forgive ourselves and accept that we will never live up to those surface level expectations we place on ourselves. But we must also try to see each other past the facade we wear to mask our demons.

Christmas Away from Home

Those of you who know me will know that I love Christmas. I love everything about Christmas, from the sappy music, the big tree filled with ornaments, to the lights on every street corner. Christmas in my family is a huge deal, filled with traditions and memories which make every year feel like a beautiful snapshot in time.

Family pictures with Santa are always a must

This year will be my first year away from home during Christmas in my entire 23 years of existence because I'm staying in London during the holidays. It's not been easy to realise that I won't spend Christmas eve frantically wrapping presents with my mom while we watch Christmas Vacation. I won't be reading Twas the Night Before Christmas to my younger brothers. I won't wake up Christmas morning to a full stocking, excited gift opening, and an epic Christmas breakfast.

I guess it all comes back to my family. I'm really close to my family- I always have been. I know a lot of people my age don't really get along with their parents or feel obligated to spend some time with them at Chrismas, but for me it's the exact opposite. It's a weird day if I haven't talked to my mom at least once; even if it's just a simple text and not a Facetime or sitting down for dinner. I talk to my family about every detail of my life, they give me advice and support me, and Christmas is an amalgamation of how close we are and all the traditions we've built for each other.

Christmas has also taken on a special meaning for me since my dad passed away three years ago. My dad loved Christmas, and he was just as much part of all of these traditions as my mom and brothers. Traditions we built together as a family before he got sick, and traditions we honour him through by continuing on. It feels weird to not be celebrating the way I always did with my dad, the way we always did as a family. I remember one Christmas he actually used white cleaning powder along the bottom of his work boots and walked around our living room from the fireplace so it looked like Santa had been walking around. I remember driving up to Gatlinburg every year and singing The 12 Days of Christmas on repeat until we could do the entire song without messing up. I'll never forget the year he bought himself the 50th Anniversary Edition Monopoly board, one of the only times I remember my parents buying something for themselves. We still use that board every time we play. 

On the other hand, this feels like it's part of growing up. I know that I'm reaching an age where it's normal to branch out and do my own thing and that it doesn't mean I love my family any less. I recently had a thought where I realised that my own mom used to spend every Christmas morning with my grandparents, but she's obviously spent it with us since I can remember. It's a normal part of becoming an adult- branching out from your parents. No one ever tells you that how hard that is though. When you're in school, all you can think about is getting away from your parents and living your own life, but as soon as you move out and have a job and bills and relationships all on your own, you can start to miss all the things that are comfortable to you. Everyone tells you it's hard to be a grown up, but I guess I didn't listen. On some level, I'm not ready to let go of some things, and Christmas is definitely one of those comfortable traditions that I'm clinging onto.

As much as I hate being away from my family, I realise there are new traditions I can build for myself. My life is my own to make of it what I want, so I'm going to try my damnedest to make it interesting. I think some traditions I'm incorporating here in London include- Christmas crackers (which we don't have in America, but I love the paper crowns), drinking mulled wine and walking around the fair, and buying myself a few choice presents just because I can. I've also built myself the ultimate Christmas Jams playlist on Spotify, and I love riding on buses and listening to it while I look out at all the lights on the London streets.

Making this Christmas fun with matching PJ's

I knew Christmas was going to be hard this year without my family, but I never expected myself to be so caught up in the traditions I'm missing out on. I'm excited about my future, and I know that as I grow older I'll build some of my own traditions, but for right now I'm going to reminisce about our past Christmases and cherish the years I have left in the comfort of my traditions. 

Since I am in London for Christmas, I've made a vlog of some of the Christmasy things I've done in the city. Click below to watch, and have Happy Holidays!

Four Months in London- Where Am I

As you may know, I made a huge life decision back in April and decided to move back to London to attempt my Master's degree in Marketing. I've been here for about four months now, so I'm going to give an honest look at moving across the globe on your own. I wish I could say moving here was everything I ever thought it would be. Most of the time, I love the whirl of the city, the never-ending list of things I could do in one of the most culturally diverse places in the world. The reality is that I spend most of my days staring out the window during my hour long commute to class or laying on my couch scrolling through my FaceBook feed. 

Don't get me wrong, I have done some amazing things this year, most of which involve the amazing friend group I've made. I've had parties, gone to concerts, explored shopping malls, and even had a painfully complicated trip home to visit my family. Despite so much good, life here has also been regretfully difficult. It's been constantly questioning myself and my abilities, crying at little things that feel like they should be easy, and trying to find possessions before screaming because I left it in another country. 

One of my friends showed me a theory about a month ago, the 5 Stages of Culture Shock. When I first saw it I laughed, and I thought "I'm not going through culture shock! I already know about the culture here!" However, after looking at it again, I've realised that moving across the world all on my own has affected me more deeply that I could ever have anticipated despite living here for half of last year.

When I moved here last year, it was a dream come true. Fresh out of university, I was working at an internship in a huge city, and living with people all from the same country as me. I went on crazy adventures, and honestly, I didn't have to assimilate for the first 2 months I lived here because everything was taken care of for me. I don't think I was honest with myself about those last three months. It was hard, it was lonely, and it was scary. I've felt for a long time that London is my home, more than I've ever felt in my life, but I also notice that maybe my feelings were painted rosey with a nice dose of romanticism for good measure. 

In light of accomplishing my goal of moving to London for real, here is my experience of culture shock. It may be brutal, but at least I know where I stand and hopefully I'll learn something about myself in the process. 

Stage 1: The Honeymoon Stage

This is when you arrive in a new place and everything is shiny and new. You're pointing out all the differences from back home and you're feeling so 'cultured' and 'enriched' to be somewhere so different. 

I don't think I went through this coming back. Last year, I definitely went to all the museums and saw Big Ben again. I was so excited to experience the culture and hit all the cool tourist spots. Moving back, I sighed as my mom called me and asked if I wanted to go on the London Eye when she visits this summer, internally cringing at the 30 quid I'm going to have to dish out for a giant ferris wheel. I haven't felt that need to go do the tourist stuff, I didn't spend my time giggling about how it's a 'lift' instead of an elevator. I'd done this before, I was ready to dive in and start my new life without the fluff.

Stage 2: The Distress Stage

Ah yes, the stage where all those little differences start to add up and become a big problem. You begin to feel confused and frustrated at how different everything is, and you realise that your support system from back home is completely gone. 

I can easily admit that I hit the distress stage and I hit it hard. I think the defining moment was standing in the supermarket trying to buy food. I was so frustrated because I couldn't find anything in their stupid stores and what they did have wasn't the right brand and wasn't the right flavour, and they called it different names. All in all I kind of had a breakdown. I don't think anyone ever thinks about how all the little minute details matter so much in a day to day life, but it all piles up until you don't want to get out of bed because it feels too overwhelming. 

Stage 3: Re-Integration Stage

You start to have a disdain for your new home, you reject it and begin to feel that everything back home is superior. You feel angry, frustrated, and even hostile to everyone around you, and you wonder why you ever left in the first place. You miss the familiarity of home and feel like you don't belong. 

I would say I'm currently at this stage. Add a stressful school situation into the mix, and I have become bitter and angry at the world for making my life so difficult despite getting everything I wanted. I'm constantly thinking about when I can go visit my family back home, and talking to my roommate about the frustrations of living in a giant city. People stop in the middle of the pavement and I roll my eyes and huff as I move around them. When I think about back home, I wonder why I didn't appreciate how what I had there was so good. 

Stage 4: Autonomy Stage

Finally, the first stage toward acceptance; when you begin to feel like yourself again. You begin to accept the differences and feel like you can to live with them. You feel more confident and better able to cope with problems. You no longer feel isolated; you’re able to look at the world around you and appreciate where you are.

I don't think I'm here fully yet. There are quite few days that I wake up and feel like maybe I'm starting to fully enjoy my life here, but then the following day the train is delayed and I feel like it's destroyed my entire week. I do think I will eventually get there the more I focus on learning and doing things I enjoy with people I get along with, but right now I'm teetering on the edge of simultaneously loving and hating everything around me.  

Stage 5: Independence Stage

You feel yourself again! You embrace the new culture and see everything in a new (hopefully realistic) light. Things start to become enjoyable. You feel comfortable, confident, able to make decisions based on your own preferences and values. You no longer feel alone and isolated.

Being truly independent and feeling like I'm happy and content seems like a distant glimmer. I've only been here four months, so I'm trying to give myself time to figure things out and hopefully get there. I genuinely don't how long this will take, or if it ever will, but til then I'm working on taking it one day at a time. 

So, if you're here wondering if you should take the plunge and move across the globe by yourself- I still say go for it but you've been warned. It's hard work. You constantly doubt yourself and feel torn about whether you did the right thing. I'm glad I moved here, I don't regret it at all, but I can't lie to myself and pretend it's butterflies and rainbows all the time. Living here is just that...living here. You still feel stress and anxiety, the things in your life that affected you before still affect you in another place, just now you have to navigate it on your own. This experience has for sure given me independence; I know that I'm capable of anything and that I know how to figure stuff out. I wouldn't trade that for anything, but I still think of my hometown and feel a pang in my chest for wildly different reality I've thrown myself into.