With friends like these ...

What a week.

Uneventful is not a description I could use.

Following on from last week's completely depressing blog post, you'll be pleased to know I've become pro-active. I'm no less fed up, well maybe a bit, but I'm using this to power me on and I have a plan. Yes, a proper one, like the ones they have in films that ALWAYS work, without fail. This one will work too, because it's awesome.

So this week I have worked my rather sizeable arse right off. My plan is to work every hour god sends for the next year and save, save, save! So this time next year I will probably be hideously lacking in sleep and essential nutrients, but things will be better, and that will be worth losing a little sleep for.

Something slightly less positive has occured this week. Well, I say this week, it's actually been coming for a while but seems more pronounced at the moment.

Okay, deep breath.

Basically, yeah I've been a little down recently, and because of that I've needed my friends. Most of whom haven't been there.

I say 'most' because some have, and for that I'm grateful - and thank you, it means the world.

But those that haven't ... well, true friends?

I'm thinking not.

It might sound selfish, but really it's not. I understand people have their own lives and commitments, but it seems a common trend that you find a guy, or girl, and suddenly you disappear off the face of the planet and forget everyone that was there before. My problems and wants might seem immature to you, simply because it's not what you want, but bear in mind that your life isn't what I want either, yet I'm still there for you no matter what, and probably always will be.

I have to say that outloud, because it's been churning me up for a couple of weeks. I'd say it to anyone it might concern's face too, but will probably never have to, because I never see them anymore.

Anyway, onto a lighter note.

I'm going back to my second home again in eight weeks. Yep, I'm heading out to sample the winter delights and see what that brings - probably not frostbite like I'd get if I stayed here. I hate New Year normally, I find it such a let-down, so hopefully this one will be different, and spending it in a place I love will be pretty amazing. It's going to be weird though, so many people I associate with the place won't be there and most of it will be closed, but I get to party the night away with my girls, so really, I can't complain. Bring on the Efes.

Moving on, and it seems I've found a modern day, wannabe Mr Grey.

Before you get all excited, I highly doubt he's actually a patch on the Grey dude, I just think he talks the talk, erm, quite graphically. Please don't ask me how I got myself into this palava, half the time I never know myself. There was no alcohol involved either, which is worrying in itself.

Basically, picture the scene - Saturday night, freezing cold, snuggled up on the sofa in fluffy bed socks, very unflattering PJs, a massive hoodie and not a scrap of make up. A text comes ... 'are you horny?' .... Er no, I'm watching X Factor.

Is it me or is this variation of flirtation just downright weird? I might be missing something, I just don't get it. I'm not feeling the love, I have to say.

Instead, I'm going to continue the next week in the same vein as the last one - work my arse off again, try not to think about a certain situation that is causing me a bit too much upset than it ever should've, dodge increasingly sexually-explicit texts and look forward to the weekend, when my friend is coming to visit from Norway. Nicky is going out and Nicky is going to PARTY.

Well, probably until about half ten, when I decide it's too cold, my feet hurt and I'm tired.

Oh the joys of the big 3-0.

Smile like you mean it ...

Warning - depression-laden post ahead. Read at your own risk.

 

Marmaris has done a number on me again.

I'm not sure how it manages it; I mean, this is a sunshine drenched holiday place, it's meant to make people happy. I leave the airport a generally undepressed person, with a decent job, friends (albeit ones that never want to go out) and a fair few hobbies to keep me occupied, and I return a borderline depressed, post-alcoholic, no hope for the future, would-rather-be-somewhere-else shell of a person.

This surely is not healthy.

This is why I have decided to put the grand plan into action, for the sake of my health, sanity, and the sanity of those around me too.

Why do I go if it makes me feel this way? I hear you ask. Well basically, when I'm at home, I'm on countdown to go back, so I don't do anything, and I settle - and when I get out there, I live. Go figure.

I've realised that settling is not for me.

I've been going to Marmaris, and Turkey in general, for the past 5/6 years and during that time I've made lots of friends, lost a few, had more arguments than I can remember, laughed more than I ever thought possible, had a relationship that nearly broke me in half but came out stronger, lived and generally smiled quite a lot. Every single time I leave I cry, every single time I leave I swear blind next time won't be as bad, but every single time it's always worse and I come back more and more down. This time is the worst of the lot, and I thought last October would take some beating.

Oh you lucky, lucky readers!

There is no man involved, not really, before anyone asks, because last year's antics taught me that Turkish men are a species like no other, and if you want to keep your brain and heart intact, you're best having your fun and leaving it behind, as much as possible anyway. I'll admit I find this difficult, but it's a work in progress. No, my heart breaks every time I leave Marmaris because, as dramatic as this sounds, I feel like I leave part of me behind.

I'm slowly building up a support network and a life over there, and the damn frustrating thing is that I can't live it yet, because I was stupid when I was young, and I signed a piece of paper that meant I owe the bank a decent amount of money. The other frustrating thing is that I seem to have fallen in love with a country that doesn't pay wages as high as here. If it did, believe me, I'd have been gone years ago. So unfortunately I'm left with no option but to stick it out, well unless I do a moonlight flit but I seriously wouldn't be able to handle the guilt. Therefore plan A is in full swing, well it's trying to be in full swing, it's more of a shuffle at the moment, but I'm hoping it gathers momentum.

I'm looking for an evening and weekend job.

I've decided that I can cut my waiting time down to a year, rather than two, if I can just earn enough money to make two repayments every month, rather than one. Why didn't I think of this sooner?

Of course, I'd love nothing more than to be saving up to get myself out for the summer next year, but life is a bitch and that is one hugely unrealistic option. So, save like a bitch I will, and I'll just get myself out on as many holidays next year as possible, and suck up the coming home depression. It'll all be worth it though, right?

Now, the downside of this great idea is that Britain seems to have turned into a place where jobs are like gold-dust and nobody wants you to make money. And people wonder why I want to leave. I'll do anything, seriously, I'll clean nighclubs if I have to, anything to get this dream off the ground because there's no way I can carry on like this. Aside from the fact, I'm not getting any younger ...

I can see you all rolling your eyes and thinking I'm 'doing a Nicky' - let's pat her on the head - but wait there, this is the first time I've been deadly serious.

I love my home, truly I do, my family and friends are there and I love them to pieces, but my future doesn't feel like it lies in my home town, or even this country, and I know the one place that pulls me back time and time again, and the one place I feel alive, the one place I've lived more than anywhere else, despite being in England for the past 30 years .... when you get a pull that strong, sometimes you just have to listen to it.

Maybe I'll fail, maybe those doubters (of which are are many) will be right, but at least I'll have tried, and at least I won't have a 'what if' hanging over me.

So first things first, I need a job. Or a lottery win. Whichever comes first. And then I need to work my arse off like never before. If I had a social life I might be bothered, but I don't, so really it shouldn't make much difference. It seems these days that any night out with friends needs to be planned around three or four weeks in advance, after checking multiple diaries, boyfriend/husband's commitments, kids' parties etc etc. Being the only single one amongst your group of friends is no fun, let me tell you - they think you have a party party social life, well if I managed to get out of the house once in a while, yeah I might have. Alas, I do not, as a girl sitting alone in a bar is never a good look, it screams 'loner'.

So please, if anyone out of the three people that actually read this blog have any ideas, they're very greatly appreciated - but please make them serious ones, I don't think I'd make much money selling my body, I'd probably end up owing them money.

Are you suitably depressed?! Welcome to my world ....