So apparently I’m writing on Substack now…
If you know me personally, you’ll know I’ve always been the nerdy kid with a notepad/sketchbook/novel/voice note constantly on the go. Words have always been my way back home, and following a recent personal bereavement, they’ve been a constant in my grieving process, a way to enunciate my feelings, and a way to feel some semblance of normality.
But aside from the landslide adjustment that comes with a sudden loss, writing has been my right-hand-woman throughout my creative career. A Fine Art graduate with a newly completed Masters degree under my belt, word has always been the symbiotic partner to image. Paint and prose. Image and ideology. Sculpture and script. So it is no surprise really that here I am, once again, finding myself pouring my heart out onto a keyboard for all the world to see.
And who the hell are you?
Born in the sleepy Suffolk (UK) countryside, I spent most of my formative years running riot in woodlands, learning to fight with my four elder brothers, attempting to be individual and feminine in my sphere of ridiculously talented male relatives, and my power-house of a 5’2 mother, and wishing I was more of a blonde waif than headstrong brunette with an authority complex.
I fell into the usual patterns of a middle-class white girl. Excelling at school despite my jack-of-all-trades attitude, before dismissing the university paved road ahead of me and throwing myself into every job under the sun. From Wedding Planner to COVID tester, I gave Indeed a good run for their money, until I predictably fell into the hospitality industry, racking up a simultaneously joyous and infuriating 10 years as a Bar Manager.
With the threat of normality hanging over my shoulders, in 2020 I decided I could no longer live without a creative career and threw myself - head, shoulders, hips and knee caps - into a my Masters degree, which I completed alongside learning to be a bespoke picture framer and gallery executive at a thriving company in Suffolk.
And then life hit me like a bull on steroids.
Little did I know as I necked Prosecco and threw dice onto the monopoly board with my nearest and dearest, but New Years Eve 2023 would mark the last day of a period of my life. The period of my life where I moved back in with my parents after the relationship I had tried so hard to make work had eventually crumbled at my feet, after I had once again drifted away from perfection during the pressure of a further education degree, after I had strengthened old and new friendships and cut a drastic amount of my hair - more than once! After I had tried to sleep my way out of emotional trauma, and ended up finding the love of my life on a dating app, after my eldest brother was diagnosed with stage four lung cancer and I ran away to London to pretend it wasn’t happening.
I closed my eyes at midnight on New Years eve and believed so deep in my soul that 2024 would be better.
In a handful of magical ways, it has been; I have - after years of scrimping, saving, searching and sacrificing - finally bought a wonderful little one bedroom flat that I get to call my own. I have made even more fantastic and beautiful friends. I have grown stronger and more confident in myself, and in my relationships - building a beautiful little life with my other half, Nick, and my two dogs, Baxter and Bandit.
But alongside the joy and gratefulness, a dark, bottomless, all encompassing void of pain seeped into my life, into the life of everyone I loved… My brother was dying.
And even with all the hope in the world. In June of 2024 we lost him.
My first post will further detail the plethora of emotions that have come to the surface this year. But essentially I’m here to shout about how bloody lucky we are to have the days we do.
Some of them suck, really badly. But for the most part - without being too vomit inducing - we really do take each day for granted. And watching one of your greatest protectors and advocates die at the insanely young age of 49, will really kick you up the arse to realise that you don’t get to live forever. And if you did, you’d hate it.
So go ahead and hit subscribe; there’ll be insightfulness and insanity, creativity and art alongside crudeness and anger, and every step of the way I’ll be raw and honest and open and brutal. Because that is the only way I know how to be.
Thanks for coming along for the ride.