Dear Diary: Living Without A Support Network


If there was one thing I was I had more of in my life, it wouldn’t be money or blogging freebies or clothes or press trips to exotic faraway beaches. It wouldn’t be sponsored blog posts or MAC lipsticks or cats or orgasms or toned muscles, it would be time – physical time – with my support network.

My support network who are y’know, otherwise known as my friends.

My three best friends (and I count best friends as the people who I’d pick to be my bridesmaids if I was literally getting married tomorrow), all live at least two hours from me.

One lives in south London, another on the south coast and the other somewhere Midlands-y.

They’re not even close together, they’re all hiding out in completely different directions and they are all absolute ball aches to get to.

Or, y’know, I’m the ball ache to get to because WHO THE HELL DECIDES TO MOVE TO BLOODY EAST ANGLIA OF ALL PLACES.

Time with them is always limited and hideously planned in advance, and it feels like we’ve only just got to catching up about the week over a cup of tea when HAVE A SAFE DRIVE, WE’LL HAVE TO DO THIS AGAIN SOON darts its astronomically ugly head out of nowhere.

It always feels too short, and almost like you haven’t even managed to get passed the polite niceties of seeing someone you haven’t seen for a couple of months and onto the weirdness that bonded you together in the first place.

I don’t miss being a teenager or a student or a little lost graduate floating about at home on the dole, but I do miss all the absolute friendship goals that came with it.

I miss the 10pm drives for McFlurries (although shout out to Chris, he does pretty bladdy well in this category), I miss board games and homemade Nando’s, I miss building dens and playing N64 whilst whipping up the greatest nachos known to man. I miss chain-watching documentaries on the crime channel and doing tea rounds and taking sofa naps and planning pre-drinks for the night ahead. I miss being hungover and attempting to work out the narrative of the night before. I miss going home to shower and re-evaluate my life before re-joining for more food, more gossip, more adventures. I miss having people to constantly question my life with, to make sure I’m doing OK, that we’re all doing OK.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, Whatsapp is an absolute bae, and I speak to my gal pals every single day. We send each other photos of cute babies, we talk about the latest Facebook news from people we went to school with, and we plot to squeeze in time for each other in our hideously busy lives.

But I miss being part of each other’s every day lives and routines. I miss them being close. I miss being able to text them and say what are you doing RIGHT now, do you want to sit in my car and talk about boys and babies? And every month, when that damned period of mine rolls around, I miss them more than ever. Because I want someone to eat pizza and chocolate pudding with whilst wearing trackie bottoms, in a way no boy will ever ever ever understand.

You get this too, RIGHT?

One of the one things I never gave too much thought to whilst I was growing up, is how much I might be separated from my friends – not just by distance, but by schedule.

We’ve moved around the country for love and for work and for our futures, but I’m mourning the memories we’ve had to leave behind in order to get ahead in other areas of our lives.

I know I can make new friends, I know, as I get told almost weekly by people, that OMG WHEN I HAVE A BABY I’LL MEET SO MANY NEW FRIENDS and I know that maybe, one day, there might be a chance to live just a slither closer together again.

But for now, I’m dealing with a little hole in my heart for the people who know way, way too much about me. For the people who have known me the longest and for the people who can tell when I want a McDonald’s just by a glimmer in my eye.

There is a teeny, tiny plus side to all this. When I do get to see them I do feel a lot like I’ve just opened 578456478 tamagotchis at Christmas.

Oh and I get a lot of Starbucks and Kisstory-fuelled road trips, and what’s not to love about that?

So, um, yeah.

I guess the point of this post is just to gently remind you of what’s important. To give you that push to snap up that train ticket or lock in that diary date.

Because some of the best moments of 2016 so far have been the fleeting moments with friends where we’ve laughed so much there’s been tears, we’ve smashed bottles of Disaranno on the floor and asked restaurants for free bottles of Prosecco. The nights we’ve had impromptu snow ball fights and made midnight Ann Summers sale orders, and not the nights I’ve though fuck it, I cba to travel that far, I’m going to stay in on the sofa with pasta and a blanket.

People – your people – whether they’re babies, boys, girls, family or friends, are the single most valuable asset you could ever have in your life. Try not to forget it <3

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