Moving Out for the First Time

I’ll be honest, it was scary as hell.

I had lived in my house with my Mum & Dad in South London for the whole of my life. Never moved, never changed bedrooms, never wanted to leave. So the thought of moving out, to a completely different part of the UK and an hours drive from home was daunting to say the least.

But a huge part of me wanted it, needed it and to be quite honest was secretly excited about it.

I’m still not entirely sure how Lewis (my boyfriend & full time Sloth) and I decided on Brighton. I think it was mainly the childhood nostalgia for him and the prospect of hundreds of clothing shops on my doorstep for me that made us take the plunge. I’d never really visited Brighton that much as a child and even less as a teenager/adult but something about it drew me in. Like I mentioned before, probably the shops!

I never went to university so I’d never even lived away from home for a short period of time. Uni would have killed me to be quite honest, I don’t deal well in new situations and don’t even get me started on being around lots of people I don’t know. It just wasn’t for me and I already had my dream job at the time.

Along came moving day, my Mum & Dad helped me haul all my boxes (mainly of clothes & Vogue magazines) up the four flights of stairs. I managed to get out of carrying all the heavy ones which was quite an achievement in my eyes. I’m very good at making it look like I’m helping but not actually helping very much at all. It’s a wonderful skill to have, if you ask me. After some deliberation on where to put my vast collection of magazines (which had been whittled down twice may I add) and where to put all my candles, Mum and Dad had to leave. I managed to not cry which was rather surprising. I was nervous but excited. After they left, I kept myself busy with unpacking. I’m one of those people that finds organising and sorting very calming and therapeutic which obviously helps in a moving-house-situation. It wasn’t until about 3 weeks later that it truly set in that I didn’t live at home anymore. When the realisation sunk in, I cried for a week but I’ll spare you the messy details of that. Note to self: when moving, buy a king size box of tissues.

My favourite part so far about Brighton is the atmosphere; there’s something familiar about it, it’s like London but easier to get around & less pigeons (although they’ve been replaced by pesky seagulls). The Lanes is obviously a massive draw to the city, with it’s little alley ways and unique and quirky shops, you find something new in every corner and crevice. I don’t think I could ever get bored of strolling through them, it’s like a mini adventure every time. The amount of cafes is ridiculous, who could ever need so many you might ask? Well, somehow you do, you’d miss each one if it weren’t there and every one adds a bit more character and charm, even though they all sell coffee in odd mugs and the milk of course comes in a Kilner jar and don’t dare forget to kit the place out with copper piping! But you wouldn’t expect anything less.

My advice? Do it. It’s very brave but a wonderful experience. I love it here. I love living with Lewis. But most of all I love visiting back home, it’s like seeing an old friend who knows all your secrets and memories. Heaven forbid my parents move out of that house, I wouldn’t allow it.

Author: rayofstyle

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