January. Bleurgh. No matter how hard I try every year, I seem to get the good old bluuues. I crave sunshine massively and dream of wearing denim shorts and bare feet.
Summer always seem so far away at this point. Every year when this happens I think about how much I would love to live somewhere with a warmer climate. I do love winter for about five minutes every year. I love wrapping up all warm and cosy, sitting in front of the fire (which we don’t have), and I love it when it snows. And I think I would miss it if I lived somewhere warm, and would sometimes long for a break from the heat. But the positives would far outway the negatives. I really think I’d be a lot happier, which is sad. I do love England, a bit at least. But I just do better in the sunshine. I feel way better, look way better, which makes me feel even better… and I am just more relaxed and enjoy life more.
The thing is though, I would hate to leave my family and friends behind. I would hate to only see them rarely, and for Ava to. I really do wish I could pick them all up and take them somewhere with me. And then there’s the babies in my life. Two of my friends have recently had a beautiful girl, who will hopefully be a big part of our lives, another of my closest friends/my cousin is due really soon, and another two friends are due in a few months. And then there’s my gorgeous little nephew. What I’ve been waiting for since Ava was born is finally happening and it’s lovely. I want them to all be in my life, and I want to be in theirs.
And so we go through another year of miserable winter and miserable me. I hate it. It’s not like I’m constantly miserable, but I just always feel a bit meh. I can think positively, and enjoy wrapping up warm in scarves and gloves, and feel the leaves crunching underfoot, those cold, crisp, lovely sunny days. But I still just feel so meh. I think my hormones are massively affected by the dark days and so there doesn’t seem to be a lot I can do about it. I hate hormones.
Chocolate and wine help cheer me up a bit at night.
So I’m eating chocolate and drinking wine at night rather a lot at the moment, which I’m ok with actually. There comes a point where you just decide to f*ck it and do what makes you feel better, doesn’t there? There does for me anyway; I think ‘I won’t drink wine tonight’ and then it comes to the evening time, and I feel absolutely knackered and pretty pants, and I really want some wine, so I let myself have some. And then I feel a bit better. Does this sound really bad? I don’t have loads, probably only a glass most nights, but it just helps me to relax a bit, which I really struggle to do.
Do you like wine? Do you drink it a lot? Wanna come and live abroad with me?