Damn Close to Perfect
Why do I feel guilty about this confession?!
Guys.
I have a confession.
I feel like it is desperately uncool to say this, but I was struck with a thought this morning as I walked through Botanic Gardens in Belfast.
I’m really, really happy at the minute.
This blog was started when I moved back because the moment I stepped foot back in Belfast, I was consumed with a fear that I had made the wrong choice. I panicked that Belfast was too colloquial, too small and too closed minded for me. I had left Berlin, for goodness sake, the epicentre of all that is cool.
Even today as a feeling of happiness washed over me as I dandered into my advertising job, I felt a pang of guilt. Could I possibly say that I was happier in Belfast than Berlin?
Truth is, Berlin is cool. I had a great time there. To live there is cheap, there’s heaps of beautiful parks, incredible people and chic bars and restaurants. My friends and I had a great time, and honestly, I will always love Berlin. But, beneath all the Instagram posts and good fashion, it’s still just a place with normal people. Of course there’s still a lot of insecurity, loneliness and shallowness in Berlin. The ex-pat life is a choice, and a deviating one at that. Most people float for years in the in-between of being a tourist and a native. Especially in Berlin, with such a difficult language barrier to overcome, it’s hard to get to native level. Don’t get me wrong, some people do it, but a lot of people eventually leave, and others stay in the bubble of ex-patness. In my friendship circle, aside from the laughter and parties, there was also a lot of not-knowing-where-one-was-going, career unhappiness, flimsy relationships and grubby apartments.
An example. My Facebook memories threw this up today. Two years ago I did a photoshoot for a friend of mine, Willie. I agreed because it was a bit of extra cash, and well, I was flattered to be asked. The photos, despite it being really one of the most awkward afternoons of my life, turned out quite nice and have cropped up in several publications over the years.
In this photo I look happy, relaxed and like I’m having the time of my life, right? Well, first of all, I was very good friends with that boy, (hello lovely Sane ❤) but that girl? We barely spoke. All fake.
Extrapolating further, when this photo was taken, I was having the worst summer of my entire life. I’d broken up from my boyfriend who then hooked up with a close friend of mine a matter of days after. I had no real place to live and was relying on friend’s putting me up as I struggled to find an apartment in Berlin. I got mugged. My dog died. A close male friend betrayed me in an exceptionally horrible way. I lost a bunch of weight despite drinking way too much. It wasn’t good.
But sure, the photo looks good, right?!
That’s the thing with all these superficial social media accounts. I feel like you’re forced to make everything look good and not admit weaknesses. I didn’t admit how I felt often towards the end of my time in Berlin, because I was embarrassed. People knew that I was the comedian Cat Anderson, so how could I say I mostly was just feeling a bit glum?
So that’s the thing. As I felt guilty today for feeling happier in Belfast (like, ohmygod, it’s so uncool compared to Berlin, like, for real?!) I decided to get all Elizabeth Barrett Browning about it and count the ways.
- Better house, which is always full of people, and leftovers in the fridge.
- Better job, which I love, with people who make me laugh every day.
- Better boyfriend, who makes me so ridiculously happy to a point which I can’t quite believe.
- Seeing my oldest friends all the time, cause they live round the corner.
- Laughing with my pregnant best friend about how fat she’s getting and feeling excited about her new baby.
- New friends inviting me to parties, drinks, meals. Weekends which are full of invitations.
- Seeing my family. All my family.
That’s pretty good going. I know all of these things can change at any time, but for this fixed moment in time, there’s a balance of happiness. I will probably never be able to fully pin myself to a one place (even if I do, which I suppose if I ever become a mother, is something you kind of have to do, it won’t be mentally) and so I don’t know or think Belfast will be forever. But for this second, right now, I’m happy. And that’s pretty bloody great.
