Ramblings of a Ringless Wife

Ringless Wife, Messy House, Cluttered Brain. All in a standard day.

March 11: What I would tell 18 year old me (even though I probably wouldn’t listen anyway)

on March 11, 2012

I loved turning 18.
And moving out of home? WHOA, hello freedom! Or so I thought.
I would tell myself plenty of things if I could go back in time…

Moving out of home is awesome! Until you get your first bill.
Having “Party Central” is so much fun! Until you have to clean the vomit off your landlords back yard.
Living behind a friend of your parents isn’t annoying! Wait till they come in and help you out of a shower when you’re down with a migraine and your boyfriend is wank job.

Moving interstate is liberating! Once you can go to sleep without texting your mum “good night” before you can settle down.
Living in a unit which is in a group of 45 means you can make lots of friends! If you can avoid getting tangled up with the drop kicks over the back fence and definitely stay away from anyone with dread-locks.
A town that is 4 times bigger than home means more jobs available! As long as you don’t mind getting your boobs out for the boys to get a position.

Having a grandmother who cleans your flat for you is amazing! Until she stops and you realise just how messy you actually are.
You will fit in with your cousins friends! Until you realise that they are nothing like you.
Your whole life will change! Until you realise that it is bloody hard work to get that to happen.

Drinking Vodka and chasing it with an unidentified yellow alcohol is totally awesome! Until you vomit in your stair well.
Strip poker with a heap of girls is a fantastic Idea! Just make sure you have robes by the door because the police will knock. (Make sure your ID is handy too, because they’re gonna wanna see it.)
Getting involved with the wankers across from you is the best plan yet! Just don’t get shitty when they break into your house to steal your towels.

Being an infallible teenager isn’t all its cracked up to be. And doing it away from your security blanket isn’t all that awesome either.
I would tell 18 year old me that someone who promises to love you and someone who proves it are two completely different people.
I would tell 18 year old me that just because you had a fight with a girl in your unit block doesn’t mean you won’t move past it in years to come.
I would tell 18 year old me that parties every night along with copious amounts of alcohol doesn’t mean you have friends. It just means you have a house to party at.

Moving away was the best thing for me. I met amazing people and have been able to carve out my life to a stage where I can honestly say I’m happy. But listen to me, 18-year-old Kloi-Jayd!!! YOU’RE GONNA HAVE TO WORK HARD FOR THAT SHIZ! It isn’t just going to drop in your lap like a movie!

I would tell 18 year old me that somehow, some day, you are going to realise that Life sucks. But you’re going to survive it. You will reach a time where you can sit on your back balcony and realise that the world is all going to be OK, that the stresses which caused you agony aren’t all that bad, and that Midori with a straight Vodka chaser will leave you vomiting over your second floor balcony.

I would tell myself that we are going to be alright one day. I would tell myself that we are a strong and powerful woman, and that we will handle whatever comes away.

And I would also tell myself that the police aren’t a fan of you opening the door naked.

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2 responses to “March 11: What I would tell 18 year old me (even though I probably wouldn’t listen anyway)

  1. Mum says:

    LOL, you are a doodle…. xoxooxox

  2. Mum says:

    LOL, you are a doodlehead

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