Lately I have been attempting to come to terms with the confusing level of anxiety that I feel anytime I am out and about around here. Last night while I was falling asleep it sort of hit me-I have no real friends here, so I consistently feel like I have to be “on”. And I suck at being “on”, for the most part. And every night when we come home, I worry about what impression I have left on others-whether I got too loud, or too opinionated or was a total asshole, as I sometimes am. I like the people here, and while I feel pretty comfortable with everyone that I do know and everyone that we do hang out with, there’s not that deep level of comfort that I have with people I’ve known for years and years, and who have seen me at my best and worst and everywhere in between. It’s harder than I thought, because there is no reunion on the horizon with my old life where I know I won’t feel this way anymore.
Anyway, yesterday there was beer, and conveyor-belt sushi, and avoiding football (soccer) fans at every turn (did you know the local Brighton team is called the Seagulls? Because they are. Ca-caw!) And there was a reunion with an expat lady friend who I haven’t seen since we took international studies and/or french classes back at Ohio State! She beat me to the immigrating lifestyle and has been making herself a home in London now for the past three years, complete with tall English boyfriend and fabulous social media career. It was so nice seeing a familiar face and discussing all the minutia of moving from midwest America and sweet sweet Ohio to the oh-so-different England, where you can’t buy cornmeal at a regular grocery store.
Conveyor belt sushi is the best and worst, in that it is so hard to stop grabbing plates, and that shit adds up in bill form. Thanks Yo Sushi.
Ariel! Come back to Brighton anytime (maybe in the spring or summer would be a good choice-we can sit on rocky beaches and laugh at English people!)