The Love Of My Life
As I go back and forth about writing on this subject I decided it would be liberating to do so. I remember when I was in college I analysed these short stories in a french literature class. These stories kept me on the edge of my seat until the last few words. One of them had struck me. It was someone describing their physical pain for the whole short story and then we would find out it was the baby being born telling his story, a perspective none of us had seen coming. I feel like that was my inspiration today.
In the past few months I have left my blog aside. When I first started to write I had decided to separate my job and my blog. I had shared in my Bio that I am or I was a flight attendant but I didn’t want to make that the main subject of my blog. Again I don’t want to make this blog about my flight attendant career but this bad dream we are in made me realise it was more to me than just a job it was my Identity. Some may say that it’s crazy to identify yourself to a job but it wasn’t just a job it was a lifestyle. And let’s be honest; what is crazy about waking up every morning happy to go to work?
While sitting at home I reflected a lot on the cities, people, clothes (haha) and footsteps I left behind. In the past few months my life has changed ‘’scratch that’’ our lives have changed so my articles will too. I am a 27 years old who has been searching for herself for the past five months. We tend to say the grass is always greener but in this case it isn’t. As I look back I did have bad days like anybody else but only on really really bad days (lack of sleep, jet lagged, hangry) would I question what I could be doing if I wasn’t a flight attendant. Each time I would smile and tell myself I couldn’t possibly imagine doing something else. Now that I am in this position I still can’t imagine doing something else but for a little while I have no other option then to date someone else. I tell myself that I am lucky; who can say they found the love of their lives at 19 years old? (oh and I am not referring to a man lol.) I am living a break up with the career of my dreams. They say you can’t love something that can’t love you back but I think we can love something that makes us happy. The real question is why am I sharing this today. I mean like any break up there is a time of realisation. The only positive thing is that I know one day we will find eachother again.
I am still passionate about fashion, coffee shops, travelling but during this pandemic that part of my life has been on hold. This allowed my passions to change and evolve. With all this time I was able to discover sides of me I never had time for. I guess that's the only good side I can find to this whole situation. When I was a kid I would frequently move the furniture around in my room because I got fed up with the placement and needed change. Well for a person that hadn’t slept in their apartment for more then 5 nights in a row (in 8 years) I can tell you that the first thing I did was play tetris with my furniture. Then as soon as the thrift shops reopened I was hunting new furniture and decoration. When my 400 square feet was finally remodeled that was my cue to start writing again haha. Numerous times I started articles but wasn’t sure what to say.
Coming back to my french literature class. You may wonder why I decided to compare this situation to a break up well that is the only thing I experienced that hurt just as much. A break up brings up feelings of nostalgia that are incomprehensible but once we go through them we can finally heal and accept. At first everything would remind me of my job the last grain of coffee from south america, my sel de guerande from Paris, my spices from India, my London tea bags… I would clean my purses, open a book, sort out my vanity drawers and find random plane tickets. The more time passes by the less things I find to remind me of my travels. So, this is how covid affected me. Now that I’ve shared my heartbreak with the world I hope it helps some of you to open up about what you have been going through, and what you were forced to leave behind.