Little corners of my new home

I moved into my first home with my boyfriend at the beginning of December and the last few months have been spent getting it just the way we want it. As you can probably imagine (especially with me being Miss Perfectionist) it’s been a lot of going backwards and forwards in getting things sorted and re-arranging little bits and bobs.

It’s getting to the stage where I’m starting to feel super happy with how everything is looking. Although there’s still some things that need doing (mirrors and photo frames to hang on walls, and a few little bits of furniture that still need to be bought), I feel like we’ve well and truly put our stamp on the place.

Here are a few little snaps of some of my favourite corners in our home. Saying that, I love every bit of our flat, but these shots are the things I’m happiest with and felt like showing off!

Thoughts/fears around dying

You’d think losing my mum at such a young age would have led to me accepting my immortality. Turns out, not so much. In fact, not even at all. The idea of death, of one day closing my eyes and never opening them again, terrifies me.

I like to think I have a passion for life, for living every day to the fullest and only doing things that make me happy. At the end of the day, when the time does eventually come (I’m touching wood as I hope this eventuality doesn’t happen for many, many years), I don’t want to have regrets or what ifs running through my mind. I think this is a nice positive attitude to have, but this only leads to my brain spiralling out of control about the reality of dying.

The thought of no longer being part of this world, never seeing my family or friends again, never listening to my favourite songs or watching my favourite films, never travelling to a far off exotic location, walking along the beach, watching a sunset or even laughing again, they’re just not worth thinking about. I have to admit, when I do begrudgingly let these thoughts enter my mind, I’m usually left in tears and having a near-on panic attack. Cleary I’m coping with the idea of dying extremely well…

Maybe it’s my age, or the fact I’m so happy with life at the moment that fills me with dread about it all coming to an end, or perhaps this is a normal process that everyone goes through when they come to realise that everyone and everything on this planet has an expiry date. These irrational thoughts about dying could even be related to my own grief about my mother’s death, which was 10 years ago this year. It’s a grief that has largely been left to its own devices and has never truly been addressed, and I wonder if this is a way for me to cope.

Who knows where or why these feelings occur, but what I do know is that life is precious, and as much as I don’t like to admit it, it can be taken away from you in a matter of seconds. I know that, despite my previous statement about living life to the full and not wanting to die with regret, that I don’t take as many risks as I’d like to. I know this needs to change, but it’s whether I have the confidence to do it, which is a whole other story in itself.

I’m reminded of this by how young my mum was when she passed. She was only 55, a mere three months away from turning 56. If I have the same fate as her (which I hope to God I don’t, but is a thought that crosses my mind most days) I want to do as much as possible with my time to know I’ve lived a wonderful life. There was still so much my mum wanted to do, and it’s inevitable that I would be the same in her position, but it’s still something to aspire to in making sure I don’t waste a single moment.