Red Flags

He doesn't call me baby like the others did.

He doesn't tell me he's obsessed with me, confessed he can't quite digest the intimacy that's left in me, too easily.

His compliments come few and far between, so used to being adored and self assured but I can't work out if he says what he means, not sure if he's keen.

When I'm with him I can see a difference, a softer side so I forget his previous ignorance all over again, thinking I'm overthinking again, I say Gemma don't ruin a good thing whilst you've got it again. 

He just doesn't work the same as me but in turn I feel my self esteem is slowly starting to rip at the seams. 

He won't talk to me when he's out with his friends he says he's too busy being social yet I see him posting all over his socials, but I hold my tongue though, don't want to ruin the fun so, I let the sadness manifest in me, trying to play it cool but in turn I end up feeling resentful.

He only sees his own pain but he's not the only one with shit in his head, there's a past in my mind too that I'm still trying to put to bed.

We talk about him but he doesn't know me, so much of me I want to show him you see, but when I'm upset he's defensive, doesn't know how to comfort me so my feelings are dispensed of. 

We're all fighting our own demons, the only difference is I cared more about making him feel better regardless of what was happening to me but I can't make him see that, don't expect him to feel that and now it's not something we can work out.

If this is how love is supposed to feel I don't want it, can't seem to find reciprocation in anyone I'm better off without it, stronger alone, this is all I've ever known, all I've ever been shown.

Finding love makes me miserable am I the only one in this? I'm obsessed with the idea of it, romanticising the pain in it, find myself trying to settle for a second rate version of it. 

I'm in love with the idea of love but the reality is deceitful, I just want to feel equal but I'm almost certain now that it doesn't exist. And amidst all of this I still persist but for now I must confess there's little room in me left for this unrequited mess. 

(I'm not) Scared of Sadness

It's a little after ten and as I write this I am safely cocooned in my duvet, blankly looking at my laptop unsure of where to start, how to start. I don't quite know what I want to say yet, but I know I have something to say for sure. There's been a change in me that warrants  me to document it in some way. I always feel compelled to do that, to write about the change. If you've read some of my other posts you'll gather a little insight to that.

I tend to write mostly about hardships, or challenges that I have faced. I've written about fear of failure, heartbreak and general struggles of being in your twenties and trying to figure it all out. Mental health is something that has or mostly likely will affect us all in some way, and I've always felt quite compelled to talk about what perhaps some of us don't. I put myself out there with my own experiences because quite frankly, it's healing for me. It intrigues me. It's a release, and the conversation that is opened up as a response is healing for me as well as the reader.

But I want to write about the good too. I want to sit here and tell you how it's going to be fine, and you're going to figure it out. Not all at once, but slowly and clumsily. It's going to feel like chaos and it's going to feel like nothing. You'll think you're getting somewhere and suddenly you'll feel back at square one again. There are going to be people that help you and people that hinder you but it's all part of it. I'm 26 years old. I'm not going to pretend that I've got everything sussed out, but I've learned an incredible amount over the years about how I work and also how other people work.

I didn't have a great start to this year. If you read a previous post called "Missing Them", I really struggled to come to terms with a heartbreak, and realising I had been highly mistreated. I've always been an independent person. I like my own company and sometimes I need to have that time on my own. But when I give myself to someone, I give it all. I think you should do that, no matter how many times you get hurt, no matter what the last person did to you. Go all in. I feel strongly about that, but for a few months after being knocked, I questioned it. I closed up. The worst thing about being fucked over is the anger towards them for making you feel like you can never see another person in a completely good light again. You're jaded and you assume that everyone will have the same intentions.

I never let myself cry about it. I carried on. I got a new job, I went out all of the time, and I just got on with life because there wasn't a magic 'undo' button. I refused to let myself deteriorate to it. I thought, 'you don't GET to do that to me', and everyone would comment on how they admired my strength. But what I was actually unknowingly doing, was supressing my hurt. I would only ever really feel the thoughts and the pain creeping in after a few too many drinks, but I never looked back.

It wasn't until a good few months later that I cracked. I had subconsciously been carrying this weight with me. Not the weight of wanting to have this person back in my life, but the aftermath of how it had made me feel about myself. I finally cried about it, and I didn't stop crying for 5 solid days. I cried on the tube, at work, on the street. I felt like a ghost. I hadn't experienced this level of low for a very long time.

So I went home to my parents, and I stopped trying to be okay. I let myself be sad. I stopped trying to look after everyone else and realised I needed to look after myself. I stopped being scared of the sadness. The sadness that I had grown up feeling in such varying degrees that I had trained myself to have no room for it in my life anymore. I'm always good at knowing the signs of depression, I know myself and I know the steps to take to ensure I am healthy and happy. But what happens when someone else thrusts that sadness on you? I didn't know how to get rid of it. I hadn't done it to myself this time.

I came back to London with dryer eyes and a lighter heart. I felt more able to cope with the fast paced tempo of the city and I gradually settled back in, and then something happened that changed everything. I decided to move out of the first house I had lived in since moving to London. I needed a change, and a fresh start. All of the experiences, good and bad, had all been in the same room, the same house. What if I needed to do something out of my comfort zone and take the risk of somewhere new?

So I did exactly that. I packed all of my things, condensed my life into a few cardboard boxes and I left feeling sad to let go, and scared of what laid ahead. I hired someone to help me move. I took my bed apart and I hauled it upstairs into my new flat and I put it back together. I hung up curtains and somehow worked out (with the help of my new flatmates) how to drill a bloody curtain pole to a wall. I made a new sanctuary, and I did it myself. No one has tainted it, there are no bad memories here, and in turn the effect it has had on my mental health has been incredible.

I feel like I know who I am again, I feel genuinely happy with who I am. How people have treated me is not a reflection of who I am, and to quote author Heidi Priebe - "There are a thousand minute intricacies that make-up the tapestry of who you are and not a single one has ceased to exist since the last time someone loved you".

I wake up and I have no expectations from anyone. I'm simply enjoying doing my thing, surrounding myself with people I love and feeling focused on work. I know that this feeling won't be permanent, that no feeling ever is, but my god I intend to cling on to it for as long as I can. I hope you all can find contentment too, and when you can't, to remember sometimes the littlest of changes can shift a whole perspective.

xoxox

Missing Them

They say you are supposed to miss them in the late hours of the night when everyone is asleep but you, and the thoughts of them come seeping into your mind like oil, tarnishing every good feeling you could cling to.

But missing you was at 8am in the kitchen, the sunlight pouring in through the window as I’m reaching for the Earl Grey tea bags you left here and I figure I should use them up even though I never really used to drink it before. Missing you hits me as the first wave of the floral taste hits my senses and for some reason I can never manage to finish a full cup.

They say that you miss them after one too many drinks and you can’t quite suppress the emotions you’ve been doing so well lately to steer clear of, and all at once you don’t understand how this could have happened to you.

But missing you was sober dead at noon on a wednesday on the underground central line when my heart jumped into my throat and my hairs stood on end as I mistook someone else for you, and I come to the realisation that since you left I look for you in everyone.

They say you are supposed to miss them when you see them at the same party or run into them in the street. When you don’t expect to see them and everything you practiced in your head for weeks that you would do and say for this very moment is forgotten and in its place a wave of nausea manifests in your stomach as you remain calm and collected on the outside whilst your insides are chaos.

But missing you was at 6pm getting off of the 188 bus towards North Greenwich, and walking the same dusty pavement to my house, and as I walked past the pub we used to spend our weekends at I still hoped to see you sat on the old wooden bench outside with a lit cigarette and wearing the same rolled up hat, waiting for me to pour myself into you.

Missing you was everything they said and everything they did not.

NYC update: June 16th

I have been living here for just over two weeks now. I couldn't tell you where that time has gone, I am after all in the city that never sleeps. The fast paced atmosphere is suited to me, and the days seem very short. With that said, on the other hand it feels like I have always been here, as if I have lived here for years. I feel so far away from my life in London and perhaps I've not been here long but I haven't got a lick of homesickness. Considering my love for London I thought I would have some sort of longing for home comfort, but I seem to have adapted so well here and fallen in love with this city that those feelings aren't present.

Everyone seems to be a creative here, especially in Brooklyn. It reminds me of London in many ways except everyone seems to be hustling harder here. I feel like the drive to create and make it is much stronger and apparent. I meet people and talk about their jobs and their goals and I watch how their eyes widen as they tell me their story of their journey here. It's an amazing hub of opportunity and I'm thriving in it.

I've found myself exploring more of Brooklyn itself than Manhattan, I haven't done much of the tourist stuff other than the ground zero memorials which were both heart-breaking and beautiful at the same time. Yesterday I was shown The Highline - an old railroad that used to run through Manhattan and had been converted into a garden walkway. Of course I intend on getting around to the museums, but my favourite experiences so far have been the local bars and events around my area. I found myself at a tiki disco in Bushwick the other day which I can only describe as a merge of Shoreditch and Coachella combined.

Last night however, I went to my new friend Anna's place where she was having friends over for drinks on her rooftop. I sat there drinking wine and listening to the devil makes 3 with the most tremendous view of the entire of Manhattan in front of me. I watched the cars sweeping in and out of the city over the bridges, and felt overwhelmed with emotion. This was real. This was happening, and I had made this happen for myself. I couldn't feel as free as I did at that very moment. It is certainly a high I will never forget.

 I've spent my day emailing and getting in contact with people here. My shoot in Philadelphia last week went so well and it still amazes me that I am able to continue my ambition out here. A friend I had made at a crab shack in Redhook at the beginning of my stay here had briefly mentioned getting me in touch with the owner of Nylon magazine, and after hitting her up today and being linked into an email with said person, I think I will be working with them very soon. She loved my portfolio and said she was glad I had reached out to her. I cannot express what a great feeling that is.

I'm constantly surprising myself with how far I can push my comfort zone. I've signed up to an app called meet up - where you can join groups and find stuff to do all over the city. I've joined a bootcamp group (gulp) and I'm going to a vegan talk next week. There are so many opportunities to engage with and meet people here. I want to make the most of that.

Until next time,

G x

New York, New York

I had the idea last summer. It crept into my brain one night after spending a couple of weeks in Los Angeles and realising I crave the sun on my skin and but also the fast pace of my home city. It was just an idea. I booked flights in November last year. An impulse decision and fuelled by the spontaneity of it all. It probably wouldn't happen though, and what's £350 wasted anyway? I started telling people pretty soon after that, and when you tell people you have to do it. There's no point in saying you're going to do something unless you can carry out the intention. I found a place to stay and paid my rent up front, and even still at that point, something in my head was telling me it still wasn't real, and then all of a sudden I'm at JFK New York airport and it hits me that I'm about to spend the next three months living here. I actually did it.

Some people back home didn't get why I was leaving for so long, "but what are you going to do Gemma?" Three months is a long time. I've had a drive in me for as long as I can remember and I like to think it's what has fuelled my career and ambition. I knew I could make contacts out here. But predominantly I wanted to have a living experience. After finally feeling settled in London after over two years and feeling in the best possible place with life and work, it was time to yank myself out of my comfort zone and take it one step bigger. So this is my summer to meet as many people as possible and find as much beauty in this city as possible. If I like it, I'm going to self fund an 0-1 visa and hopefully move and work here in the long run.

I've been here for 5 days and I couldn't even imagine the things I have done since I got here. I thought as I struggled with London at the start, that I'd feel a bit out of depth here. However, my first day here I was asked to shoot in Philadelphia the following week, I ended up dog sitting for Robert Pattinson from twilight, drank in biker bars and played "dare Jenga" with a bunch of random people - resulting in me having to lunge twice around the bar and repeatedly doing the chicken dance.  I've walked for miles into Manhattan and around Brooklyn, letting the 30 degree heat and sun dance on my skin and fill me with what can I only describe as complete and utter contentment.

This is the absolute best thing I have ever done. I think about my life right now and my stomach flips and it's an overwhelming feeling of joy. All I can do is share my experience and hope that I can influence people to go out and do things they usually wouldn't. Take a risk and don't worry about the negative, because if I had pursued only the thoughts of what could have gone wrong I would have never found myself here and wouldn't be giving myself the chances and opportunities I have driven myself for. I genuinely think this is the happiest I have ever been in my life, and as a past sufferer of depression, boy I can't tell you how great that is.

Forever the most cheesiest.

G x

Dating in London

Dating in London.  A myth? A joke? Non-existent perhaps? Yes of course I'm exaggerating, it does happen and maybe this is only from personal experience but it's kind of a drag. I find that rather odd, living in this beautiful city amongst 8 million fellow human beings that I was unable to find at least ONE person that is on the same level as me.

I refuse to use tinder. I've tried the app before out of curiosity and could never get past the talking to the actual 'date' part. I don't want to meet someone on a dating app and I don't want to meet someone over the internet. I want a very specific human being that fits perfectly into my messy life at exactly the right time. This is not an easy achievement. Le sigh.

I think the whole dating in London thing is hard because firstly we're a big old ignorant bunch. If anyone tried to approach me on the street I'd avert eye contact at all costs. Sometimes I have my headphones in without any music playing just so I don't have to talk to people. (God I am terrible)

Secondly, the underground makes it hard for me to find love. Let me tell you now, if I've been shooting in Ealing Broadway all day and have spent a good 2 hours of my day on public transport, the last thing I want to do is meet you across London in Camden only to have to catch the last 40 minute tube home back to south east. WHAT I WANT IS TO SLOB IN BED WATCHING CLUELESS DO NOT JUDGE ME.

I spent the majority of last year trying to forget about a guy I had been seeing at the beginning of the year. It was one of those 'lead you on' types, and instead of having the bottle to call him out on his BS, I just slowly managed to fade him out of my life. Which is fine on the outside look of things, but now looking back I wish I'd just told him he was a prick and saved myself the silent heartache. But again this person doesn't count - he didn't even live in London.

I have a great habit of getting involved with people that live absolutely no where near me. I mean, I almost bought flights to Canada last November on a whim. I think I like the hopeless romantic long distance feeling of missing someone. I'm in love with the idea of falling in love on an adventure I guess. But just with the idea of it. The reality of it is, I'm too fussy, too busy, too independent. It's not that I don't want to be with someone, it's just that it has to be exactly the right person, someone that makes me feel like a relationship is a bonus and not a hold back. Someone that wants to travel but with their career and somehow that all being able to happen together.

How is any of that possible? Timing has so much to do with it all. I do not fall very easily at all but the very few times that I have since living in London, it's fallen through because it wasn't what the other person wanted. I think mostly that's because they were a little bit douchebaggy though. (yes - douchebaggy).

It's not that I don't get attention from people, I've casually dated and enjoyed the social aspect of it. That's great, it's all fun you know. But I look at my friends in relationships and think 'wait, how'd you get that?' I don't think it's anything that I am doing wrong, nor that it's a bad thing that I am single, in fact I think it's my own doing that I haven't pursued a relationship. I put things in place unconsciously that make it difficult to pursue one i.e living in New York this summer. When I think about that, I'm like - I definitely am 100 percent doing my own thing and taking every opportunity to live my life as fully as possible. I guess it would just be cool to have someone that was as weird and happy and caring on the same level.

X

Mind Over Matter

I'm sat back in the familiar surroundings of my bedroom in London, cuppa at hand and a mass of clothes and bags strewn across my floor. I'm not great at unpacking. In fact, in the corner of my room there is a dusty suitcase still clutching onto the last few bits and pieces from my trip to Los Angeles back in JUNE, so "not great" is actually an understatement and "fucking terrible" would probably be more fitting.

If you read my last post, you'll know I took a little break to visit family last week, after feeling a bit overwhelmed by life, although I'm quite unsure as to whether I was overwhelmed or underwhelmed. Either way, after four months of being apart from my family, I knew it would do me some good to catch up and relax.

It is the strangest feeling coming home. Each time I get off the train and into my parents car, to drive through my hometown to the house I grew up in all my life,  it feels more and more peculiar. Everything is the same. I can explain to you where every road leads to and tell you who works where and how long it will take to get from A - B. I can tell you all about the familiarity. It's a little soothing, you know, like home comforts. But I can also tell you all about how my stomach feels like it is doing a thousand backflips at the same time. This is the norm. Each time I come home, I feel a little more alien, continuously and rapidly changing whilst my hometown stays the same.

I spent the week catching up with good friends, laughing, road tripping and just being. I played guitar, shamelessly danced drunkenly to fifties swing music, had a heart to heart with a girlfriend at 3 in the morning trying to figure it all out. Those are my favourite type of conversations. I will take an hour long deep vulnerable conversation over a week of small talk any day. When you've had a little too much to drink and it all comes out and that other person really fucking gets it.  Those moments are golden.

Perhaps my point here is that you have every right to feel not okay sometimes, even when you feel like there isn't anything to make you feel that way. We are all just human, you know? You just have to make damn sure it doesn't get the best of you.

On my return to London I ended up being booked for several shoots over the next few weeks including a modelling job (yikes - it's been a while!) and a 3 day job in Greece! I am so pleased that I am traveling more with my career and it seems that these things always fall more so into place when I'm feeling doubtful. My painstakingly positive mental attitude and attention to mindfulness is key. It's good to be back, London, show me your best.