Good morning, good afternoon and good evening readers,

When you move to another country, whether it’s your first, second or third time, the same feelings always crop up at the start. Part of your mind is hopeful that you can sit back, and the Universe will unfold with an abundance of friends and activities. So many to choose from that you barely have the time to squeeze it all in. That was easy Universe, I didn’t even have to leave the flat. Unfortunately that is incorrect. EHUH. Computer most definitely says no. It’s no easier mentally moving to a country like Australia, where the culture doesn’t differ too much and the first language is English, than it is parking your arse in India or Armenia. At first that is.

The weekend with Faysal was perfect and similar to our time spent together in India. We chilled in the flat, he played his guitar, I read my books, we went for lunch and he gave me a driving tour of the local area. But the stress will always creep in when you are first exposed to a new country, and usually in the most unexpected places. Take this for instance. We went to K-Mart, which is essentially Primark, because in the process of streamlining my belongings I had disposed of any comfy house clothes. You know, a good pair of trackies, a slouchy t shirt, a crackin’ pair of pyjamas. So we are in this K-Mart, and I have to choose some pantsssshsss. Well wasn’t that the hardest darned thing in the world. I got emotional at the prospect of deciphering which style, fit and pattern I wanted. How can one choose what to lounge in when she isn’t in the act of lounging!?!?

We also bought a new sim for my phone on that day and of course, classic, it didn’t work. So I trotted on down there today on my own to get it replaced. People are weird. Maybe I’m being weird, and they are just mirroring it. But I asked for a replacement and with the lack of receipt it was clearly a colossal mission for them. The woman is just staring at me, and then staring at her manager.. “Oh this is a tricky one!” I mean, okay if you say so. My face is turning red by this point. I can feel the hot flush coming, and with this pasty Irish face it’s not too hard to miss. So I’m going red, they’re standing in silence, I’m going red, they’re asking me to write down my name, I’m forgetting my name, they’re still staring at me, I’m going red, they’re now ignoring me. It was one of those sneaky anxiety fuelled moments that grab you by the balls. I said, “Leave it, I’ll just come back tomorrow”. I know you’re thinking, well what does that solve? I’ll tell you what that solves. That solves me grabbing your scanning machine and ramming it up … *insert rude words* .. pardon the French.

After my distressing experience I leave the shop and I am absolutely fuming. Stupid fucking K-Mart on this stupid fucking road and the stupid fucking sunglasses on my face that make me look like Dame Edna, and my stupid fucking bladder which needs to empty, and everything is just fucking stupid. I must go hide. I’m so done with that shop at this moment that I swear tears are seeping from my shoes onto the stupid fucking pavement because my stupid fucking eyes won’t let them out.

But then, I find a bookshop. The wonderful thing I have noticed about Melbourne so far is that there are so many independent shops in Brunswick. And just here, my favourite kind, a book shop. I have a snoop round and find the perfect little card for right now, “Let’s Get Weird”. Thank you Universe, I’ve definitely fulfilled that little number. But it’s illuminous green with a highlighter pink envelope and I just have to have it.

Faysal was totally relaxed with me this weekend, being his complete cooky self and I’ve gotten myself so worked up with preparing for this big move that I’m not giving him the gift of seeing my pure peanut butter nutter self. How selfish of me! So that little card will be a reminder everyday that I am weird, socially, emotionally and it’s all going to be a bit rollercotionally.

That’s okay. It’s okay that I haven’t cracked the city on my first solo day. It’s okay that I bought a falafel plate to reward myself. It’s okay that I had an hour nap in the afternoon. It’s okay that I just lied, and I actually had an hour and a half nap in the afternoon. It’s okay that I’ve wanted to cry since arriving. It’s okay that I feel guilty for not being perfect at moving to a new place. All of it is okay. And tomorrow is another day. There are just two things I need to remember, words passed to me by my Dad.

#1 Every day is a holiday – So stop it Charlotte. Stop thinking about all the empty space you have to fill and think of all the opportunities there are to fill it with.

#2 A horse stretches first thing in the morning, before anything else – Self care is vital at this point Charlotte. So every morning get up, get ya big girl comfy pants on and stretch those limbs.

Do what you love, be who you love and love who you love.

In kindness to myself,

Charlotte