Moving On
Tuesday, 5 November 2024
My last post mentioned I've been living in Chiswick for a few weeks but until this weekend, that wasn't the full story.
On Sunday, I gave my notice and picked up the last of my stuff from my room in Wandsworth.
It's a happy story, I'm moving in with my boyfriend and that, I'm very excited about, but closing the front door for the last time caused some totally unexpected emotions.
After exhausting myself all week, I’d seek refuge on Sundays, going to bed at 4pm. During the week, I’d sit there and cry my heart out, day after day, at precisely 10:15 am, just after I'd taken my work break to write in my diary. I learned a lot about myself in that time, but I think I healed huge parts of myself too.
I recovered from the breakup, received life - changing medical news, booked holidays on a whim and heard that my granddad had two weeks to live - all on that bed in my little room in Wandsworth.
The winters were brutal, especially the first one. I had to pull out my summer duvet because even my winter one wasn’t warm enough on its own. I wrapped myself in two dressing gowns at a time and wore the boots I’d taken to a snowy wedding in Norway around the house just to keep warm whilst I worked.
My mum suggested a hot water bottle, but I didn’t even understand the concept. How blessed I was to have never been that cold. She bought me one for Christmas, and it changed my life.
And candles. When it was cold, those little flames kept me company on miserable, dark days working from my room. But they remind me of happy times too - the nights when I finally started feeling content with staying in on my own. Getting into bed, lighting a candle, and watching the sun go down through the open window. And every time I blew one out, I made a wish.
The dressing gowns, blankets, and snow boots that kept me warm when I couldn’t afford to turn the heating on, I don’t need anymore, because those candles made my wish come true. And now I’m in a place where everything just feels right. My life is different now. I’m happy again.
Looking back, that time in my life was so unbelievably miserable, yet it was such an important phase.
Leaving the house, I cried. I know I was unbelievably sad when I was living there, but that room was my safe space, away from the world and everyone else.
I moved in with my mum's help; and Charlie, my plant. Mum agreed to take the tube, but as soon as we reached the station, she decided one flight of stairs was one flight too many and insisted we get an Uber across London. I remember driving past the Shard with Charlie by my feet.
Within ten minutes of arriving, we almost smashed the window. The room was so small that moving my single bed meant pushing it halfway through the old, wooden frame. We unpacked my suitcase, went for lunch, and then she left. That evening, I built up the strength to end a relationship I had been trying to escape for six months, that is why I moved in the first place after all.
After that, I didn't know what to do with myself. For the first three nights, I ordered Too Good to Go bags because I didn’t know how to put a meal together.
I never really got the hang of that. Instead, I built a life so busy that I was never home for dinner anyway.
I moved in with my mum's help; and Charlie, my plant. Mum agreed to take the tube, but as soon as we reached the station, she decided one flight of stairs was one flight too many and insisted we get an Uber across London. I remember driving past the Shard with Charlie by my feet.
Within ten minutes of arriving, we almost smashed the window. The room was so small that moving my single bed meant pushing it halfway through the old, wooden frame. We unpacked my suitcase, went for lunch, and then she left. That evening, I built up the strength to end a relationship I had been trying to escape for six months, that is why I moved in the first place after all.
After that, I didn't know what to do with myself. For the first three nights, I ordered Too Good to Go bags because I didn’t know how to put a meal together.
I never really got the hang of that. Instead, I built a life so busy that I was never home for dinner anyway.
For the first six months or so, I had the most magical summer. I’d work from a little desk with the window wide open and the sunlight streaming from the south-facing garden. It was boiling that year. Even isolating with COVID wasn’t too bad, I’d spend hours on my single bed with my legs hanging out of the window enjoying the sun.
I experienced real friendship for the first time that summer and with the whatsapp chat going 24/7, my room is where we built it. I loved getting ready for a night out in the tiny space I had, in front of the cheapest mirror I could find, with my music playing as loud as I wanted.
I experienced real friendship for the first time that summer and with the whatsapp chat going 24/7, my room is where we built it. I loved getting ready for a night out in the tiny space I had, in front of the cheapest mirror I could find, with my music playing as loud as I wanted.
Being so close to the nightlife meant I was able to afford an uber home. I felt like a joy like no other ubering home, drunk and content, waiting for Deliveroo to bring KFC after a night of chaos at Northcote Records with the girls. Excitedly dragging myself out of bed the next morning for brunch.
In those three years on Haldon Road, I grew up. I learned to look after myself and to figure things out. I now know how to use a washing machine.
But after a wild, single, summer with the girls, I was cold, we all were, and I was lonely, worried that it was going to be like this forever. I felt like I was just waiting for life to begin.
Trying to run away from the sadness, I started going out every single night, finding any excuse I could do not have to shower at home because it was too cold.
But after a wild, single, summer with the girls, I was cold, we all were, and I was lonely, worried that it was going to be like this forever. I felt like I was just waiting for life to begin.
Trying to run away from the sadness, I started going out every single night, finding any excuse I could do not have to shower at home because it was too cold.
I went from very happy, to very sad but I was always relieved to come back; it just meant I needed to exercise for 20 minutes before got into bed in the winter.
After exhausting myself all week, I’d seek refuge on Sundays, going to bed at 4pm. During the week, I’d sit there and cry my heart out, day after day, at precisely 10:15 am, just after I'd taken my work break to write in my diary. I learned a lot about myself in that time, but I think I healed huge parts of myself too.
I recovered from the breakup, received life - changing medical news, booked holidays on a whim and heard that my granddad had two weeks to live - all on that bed in my little room in Wandsworth.
The winters were brutal, especially the first one. I had to pull out my summer duvet because even my winter one wasn’t warm enough on its own. I wrapped myself in two dressing gowns at a time and wore the boots I’d taken to a snowy wedding in Norway around the house just to keep warm whilst I worked.
My mum suggested a hot water bottle, but I didn’t even understand the concept. How blessed I was to have never been that cold. She bought me one for Christmas, and it changed my life.
And candles. When it was cold, those little flames kept me company on miserable, dark days working from my room. But they remind me of happy times too - the nights when I finally started feeling content with staying in on my own. Getting into bed, lighting a candle, and watching the sun go down through the open window. And every time I blew one out, I made a wish.
The dressing gowns, blankets, and snow boots that kept me warm when I couldn’t afford to turn the heating on, I don’t need anymore, because those candles made my wish come true. And now I’m in a place where everything just feels right. My life is different now. I’m happy again.
Looking back, that time in my life was so unbelievably miserable, yet it was such an important phase.
I moved in with one suitcase and left with two cars full.
I moved in scared, but I moved out confident that no matter what, I can look after myself.
I moved in single, and out in a relationship with someone I'm excited to spend the rest of my life with.
I built my life there. I built myself there. I’m a much more well-rounded, confident, and capable person than the girl who moved in three years ago.
So, an ode to my little room in Wandsworth. Thank you for everything.
I built my life there. I built myself there. I’m a much more well-rounded, confident, and capable person than the girl who moved in three years ago.
So, an ode to my little room in Wandsworth. Thank you for everything.
