Ash means so well. All he wants is to get on in life, get his checklist ticked off –decent house, decent relationship, decent job, amazing car – and I so want to match his drive, his go-get-it mindset. So, when he suggested that we take the next step and rent a little place for us both so we could move in together, I thought it was a fantastic idea. A no-brainer! Of course I want to wake up beside my gorgeous boyfriend every day. Of course I want to get even closer, to share more, to spend more time together; a place just for us, a chance at being a proper couplerather than living separately, across town and with clashing schedules… but this flat hunt has taken over our lives. Every spare moment, every conversation. Yawn and yikes.
He can’t understand why I’m trying to be cautious. Probably because I haven’t really told him how much everything feels up in the air at the moment. I just don’t know if I have the bandwidth for another upheaval – especially as all the big changes I’ve made workwise haven’t exactly lived up to expectations.How can I explain that to the man who wants everything, and wants it bigger, faster and better than anyone else? Especially his brother. As an only child, I had no idea how fierce sibling rivalry could be. Downright Darwinian.And it’s made Ash unstoppable – he’s never failed at anything he’s set his mind to. Whatever his brother Dan does, Ash takes it to the next level – such big dreams, unshakeable confidence, always striving for new heights and thinking one step ahead.
And I admire that; of course I do.
But right now, I’m completely overwhelmed.
And completely underwhelmed.
I just can’t seem to strike the right amount of ‘whelm’.
I need things to settle. Just a little bit, for a little while. How I daydream of peace and harmony, an empty inbox and a full fridge.
Flat hunting, more debt, unqualified risk, bagging and dragging up my whole life again and carting it across London to a new cramped corner of the city – not so much.
With a heavy sigh, I zoom in on the fox cub’s eyes and enlarge them, brightening the amber hue to make them more endearing and expressive. Can’t lie, he’s still super cute – but now looks less deranged, more dreamy. I then adjust the contours of the tree, but has she ever actually seen a tree? Real-life trunks tend to be crooked? But, hey – I smooth out the trunk and add morefoliage up top to balance the composition. Sorry, tree, no more dancing in the wind for you.
Satisfied I’ve addressed Lenka’s ‘concerns’, I send the revisions and steel myself for the next round of corrections.
Almost immediately, she’s back to me. I can picture her literally staring at the screen, waiting to pounce as she taps out ‘constructive feedback’ while cursing my existence under her breath.
Lenka: Time for face-to-face chat. My office 4.30 p.m.
Oh noooooooooo.
I swallow hard, a knot forming in my stomach. A spontaneous, in-person, one-to-one meeting to discuss an undisclosed subject can only mean one thing.
I’m being let go.
Oh dear. Not the TGIF feeling I was hoping for.
My mouth goes dry as I reread her short message again and again.
Lenka: Time for face-to-face chat. My office 4.30 p.m.
I try different voices, play with possibilities of it sounding cheery and upbeat. But there’s no smiley emoji or exclamation mark or row of kisses. ‘Chat’ isn’t a good sign. Means it’ll be a quick and easy termination because she doesn’t care – never has, never will. Who are you already? Close the door on your way out. Thank you. Next.
I can feel it. The beginning of the end.
Lenka is hellish to work for, but losing this jobwillplunge me into a financial black hole.The cost of becoming a freelance illustrator has alreadybeen dizzyingly high: tuitionfees, specialised courses, expensive design software. Not to mention the hours, the sweat, the own-brand biscuit-based diet I’ve adopted just to keep the wheels turning.This is not the ‘be your own boss’ life I’dmanifested.
I let out a frustrated sigh.
I scammed myself completely, letting myself believe I could make this work. Got completely suckered into the idea that I could do this. The constant stream of ‘Live Your Dream’ propaganda – thanks, evil internet algorithm overlords – you made me do this. All those inspirational quotes, real-life speakers with great hair and glowing skin making ‘Anyone Can Do It!’ pitches forfreedom and fulfilment, escape, autonomy andjoy!The hourly postsof light and airy home offices, all pastel colours and snuggly pets and pretty vision boards got me good.
Jump and the net will appear!
Update: I jumped. As yet, no net.
She said she could, so she did!
Update: Hmm. Just because she could doesn’t mean she should.
What if I fall? But what if you fly?
Update:Only fifty per cent success probability – not great odds in hindsight.
I thought I’d be like a boss babe, all systems seamlessly in place, hottest illustrator in the biz, relaxed lunch meetings in wine bars, I’d set my own hours between yoga, smelling the roses and wandering galleries for inspiration. And I thought that, as a result, I would just automatically spin gold! Everyone would love everything I did. I’d be happy, secure and respected, and my life would be complete.
