delunfiltered

[delunfiltered]

God Forbid a Girl Reflects

18 year old me would be rolling her eyes...

It’s been a few years now since I finished uni and the city that shaped so much of who I am. Big love to Bristol, always. I used to know those streets so well I could walk from Frenchay Campus to the Clifton Suspension Bridge without even blinking at Google Maps. Now? That whole chapter of my life feels like it happened to someone else.

I’m heading back soon to visit friends I haven’t seen in ages; after moving back home, then to London, then to Bahrain and all this nostalgia has got me thinking. About the wild, slightly dangerous, slightly stupid things I did during those years. About how much I changed. And also… about how much I didn’t know back then.

So, here’s what I’d say to 18 year-old me, if I could sit her down for a little chat.

1. You Don’t Have to Do What Everyone Else Is Doing

That pressure after finishing school is real. “What’s next?” becomes the only question people ask you. And if you don’t have a clear answer, it’s easy to feel like you're already falling behind.

I picked a uni course I liked, creative writing and theatre, but not one I felt confident was “the one.” It wasn’t. I rushed into university at Kingston because it felt like the next thing to do. And within six months, I was depressed, isolated, living off Domino’s in a student hall that smelled and had silverfish as unwanted roommates. I stopped going to classes. I stopped seeing people. I felt like a failure, so I quit and moved back to Singapore to be with my family.

That “failure” turned out to be a reset. I worked with my parents, reassessed everything, and eventually went back to uni with a plan that actually fit me. If I could go back, I’d tell myself: it’s okay to wait. It’s okay not to follow the crowd. University will always be there. And honestly? Your bank account might thank you too.

2. Be the Weird Girl Who Joins All the Clubs

When I started at UWE Bristol, I arrived late in the term. I didn’t live on campus, I didn’t have flatmates, and I didn’t go to many events. I explored the city alone, took random bus rides, and kept to myself. It wasn’t all bad, I was actually content but I also unintentionally started building walls that would take years to unlearn.

I wish I’d pushed myself to show up. To go to the awkward socials. To be the weird girl who signs up to ten societies during Freshers and maybe only goes to three of them. Isolation isn’t always lonely, but it can make it harder to connect when you do want company. And social awkwardness doesn’t go away by itself, you have to practise being around people.

So if you’re reading this and you’re at the beginning of your uni journey: go do the things. Join the choir even if you can’t sing. Show up to dodgeball. Go to that weird lecture with free snacks. Be cringe. You’ll survive.

3. Not Everyone Is Going to Like You And That’s Fine

I’ve spent way too much time trying to be liked. High school, uni, even recently, that need to be understood, accepted, chosen, it sticks. And if someone didn’t like me? I assumed I was the problem. I’d twist myself up trying to be more palatable, more cool, more agreeable.

If I could, I’d go back and shake 18 year old me. Not everyone will vibe with you, and that says nothing about your worth. Some people are just on different frequencies. Others are just… not your people.

Let Miss Perfect Jane talk her shit. If she doesn’t like you, she’s not your target audience. You don’t need to put yourself down to make others comfortable. Focus on being authentic, the right people will always find their way to you.

4. Speak Up, Even If It Feels Awkward

I used to keep quiet because I thought it made me chill. Like, “I’m not like other girls, I don’t complain!” Wrong.

Silence doesn’t make you cool. It makes you complicit in your own discomfort. I’ve said yes when I wanted to scream no. I’ve gone along with things I didn’t agree with because I was scared of confrontation or rejection. But silence eats away at you over time.

Now? I say what I think. I set boundaries. I respectfully disagree. You don’t need to shout or fight or post Twitter threads to have a voice. Just use yours. You’re allowed to challenge things that feel off. You’re allowed to say, “I don’t like that.” It’s not dramatic. It’s not rude. It’s self-respect.

5. A Healthy Routine Isn’t Boring It’s Power

Uni is messy. It’s hangovers and instant noodles and 3am existential crises. I had that era. And I loved parts of it. But also? I didn’t realise how much not having structure was slowly burning me out.

First year was chill because I had no friends and nothing to distract me from going to lectures (dark but true). Second year? New flatmates, new friends, new party habits and suddenly I was skipping classes, missing deadlines, and feeling like I was constantly catching up on my own life.

You don’t need to live like a gym-obsessed TikTok influencer. But small habits, eating real food, sleeping more, planning your week, those things do change your life. Balance is key. Go out. Be wild. But maybe… drink some water too?

There’s no manual for your 20s. No cheat code. No hotline to call for instructions. Some lessons you only learn by living through them, by failing, bouncing back, and failing again.

But if there was a time machine, I’d definitely have a few notes to pass along to my 18-year-old self.

(And maybe a reminder that mixing tequila with WKDs and bad decisions never leads to character development, just a lost ID, broken phone and a random guy called Josh on a comedown sleeping on your sofa).

[delunfiltered]

My Totally Normal Addiction: Overthinking

Imposter Syndrome Advocate | Apology Email Artist | Overanalysis Expert

Overthinking is normal. We all do it. Whether it’s replaying that one slightly weird thing you said at brunch after three mimosas, or stressing about whether your email to Sarah in HR came off as passive aggressive. It happens.

But sometimes, overthinking isn’t just a passing thought, it becomes your whole personality. It chips away at your confidence, makes you second guess your instincts, and turns you into a watered down version of yourself. Fun!

Doomscrolling… on LinkedIn

(Yes, it’s a thing.)

While everyone else is doomscrolling TikTok, Instagram, or, in my mum’s case, the Daily Mail, I’ve been falling into a different rabbit hole: LinkedIn.

Yep. I’ve been deep diving profiles of people I went to high school with, watching them land dream jobs, win awards, start companies and suddenly I’m wondering if I’ve completely wasted my life because I didn’t become a UN ambassador at 25.

It’s not envy, not at all. I’m happy for whoever just got hired by NASA and is now live streaming their shuttle launch from space. What I’m feeling is confusion. Did I not try hard enough? Was my dream not big enough? Should I have invested in crypto back in 2013?

The UWC Effect™

My parents never pressured me. No top 10 career list taped to my mirror. No expectation of a law degree, doctoral degree, aerospace engineering degree. Just: do your best. And honestly, that’s a privilege.

But going to one of the top international schools in the world leaves a mark. It instills ambition, resilience and a tiny, nagging voice that whispers, “Is this enough?”

When your classmates go on to be doctors, lawyers, politicians, activists... it’s easy to wonder if your dream is “too small.” But comparison doesn’t measure value, it distorts it. Everyone’s path is different. Some take off like rockets. Some simmer slowly. Both are valid.

Redefining ‘Success’ (And Other Light Topics)

Don’t get me wrong. I love my job. After a string of bad ones and a solid few years of self-doubt, I’ve found something that lights me up and doesn’t make me want to scream into the void every Monday morning. It’s something I’m actually good at. And for a lot of people, that’s the dream.

So why do I still ask myself, “What’s next?”

Sometimes there isn’t a next. Sometimes the point is this. Sitting in the stillness. Soaking up what you’ve already created. Realising you’ve made it further than you thought. You’re doing enough. You are enough.

I recently even got a little tattoo to remind me that it's ok to sit and smell the roses (or in my case the shawarma). 222. Angel numbers for alignment. In other words: you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

Scrap the Scale of Success

Here’s the truth: success isn’t a checklist. It’s not the biggest house, the flashiest car, or the fanciest job title on LinkedIn.

Success is peace. It’s waking up and not dreading the day. It’s liking who you are. It’s being proud of how far you’ve come, even if you haven’t “arrived.”

So no, I’m not a CEO of my own company, living in a 10 bed, 15 bathroom mansion in Mayfair, buying my groceries at Harrods or drving a Rolls Royce at 27. But I’m showing up for myself. I’m trying. I’m growing.

And honestly? That’s more than enough.

The one thing I’m trying to get better at lately? Not comparing my life to someone else’s. And not stalking my entire graduating class on Linkedin at 2am, and avoiding that one guy that keeps asking me to join his start up on making fuel out of funghi... will I regret that? Maybe...

[delunfiltered]

EW! I Love That…

Top 5 Horror movies for all my creepy girlies out there...

Horror has been one of my favourite genres for as long as I can remember. I really was that kid, the one obsessed with Goosebumps books, begging the school librarian to check (for the 7th time that week) if Say Cheese and Die! had been returned yet. I’d come home from school everyday, almost religiously watching Grizzly Tales for Gruesome Kids, and by the time I saw my first proper horror film (Case 39, age 11), I was traumatised enough to sleep at the end of my parents bed for a week straight.

Like most horror fans, my fascination with the terrifying has always come from that weird little thrill of watching something you're not supposed to. Even now, I’ve outgrown being scared of the dark or swapping ghost stories with friends, but my love for all things creepy? Still going strong.

Here they are: my Top 5 Horror Films, full of gore, guts, and feminist existential dread. Enjoy, babes.

1. The Substance (2024)

"the way she did not follow the instructions…" – @delsmellz (Letterboxd)

My favourite movie of 2024, hands down. This film delivers everything: body horror, suspense, and a big fat mirror held up to society’s obsession with youth, especially when it comes to women.

Some critics called it “shallow” and complained that it was just another “women hate themselves” story, but honestly? I disagree. We’re constantly bombarded with beauty hacks, anti-aging serums, “magic” pills to lose 20kg... real horror material right there. This film doesn’t just show the grotesque, it shows the truth. And it does so while making your stomach churn in the best way possible.

2. The Ugly Stepsister (2025)

"7-year-old me would’ve never believed I’d see Cinderella’s actual anus" – @delsmellz (Letterboxd)

This one’s for my girlies who grew up reading Grimm’s fairy tales instead of Disney’s lighthearted versions. It’s gory, weird, hilarious, and deeply unsettling, the body horror here rivals The Substance, but the angle is different. This film explores the lengths women go to not just for beauty, but for male approval (bleak but true).

Bonus: I appreciated that the movie called me a slut in the final frame. Which I think means “end” in Swedish... but don’t quote me on that.

3. Pearl (2022)

"ethel cains biopic" – @delsmellz (Letterboxd)

I just love unhinged women in cinema. Mia Goth is an icon, a legend and she is the moment. Pearl isn’t your typical horror movie, it’s not slasher-y, it’s not haunted-house-y, but it is disturbing in that slow burning, emotionally devastating way.

It explores the devastation of crushed dreams, toxic family dynamics, and what happens when you’ve been told “no” one too many times. Also: that monologue? Chef’s kiss.

4. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003)

"I’m only going to Texas if young Eric Balfour is there" – @delsmellz (Letterboxd)

Yes, I know it’s not the original. Yes, I still think it’s elite. This was one of my first proper horror films and it holds up.

Classic slasher tropes? Check. Hot but doomed characters? Check. Creepily deranged villain with a traumatic backstory? Absolutely. It’s got that chaotic early 2000s energy where you find yourself screaming, “DON’T GO IN THERE YOU ABSOLUTE TUNA MELT”,  even though you know how it ends.

Also... young Eric Balfour. Enough said.

5. Incantation (2022)

"was I chanting with them??? mom pick me up I’m scared!!!" – @delsmellz (Letterboxd)

Asian horror films hit different. Especially if, like me, you grew up in Southeast Asia. I heard all the stories: pontianaks, Hungry Ghost Festival warnings, that one guy who swore they saw something at Changi Hospital... So yeah, this one got me.

Incantation uses a found-footage/mockumentary style that makes it feel too real. I was so freaked out by the end I literally did a DIY spiritual cleanse. Would I recommend it? 100%. Will I ever explore an abandoned building again? Absolutely not.

So this is my list of top horrors; watch ‘em if you want, don’t if you don’t. The real horror story is that ‘u up?’ text at 3am anyway. Sleep tight, bestie. And seriously. Check your closet one last time.

Delsmellz Letterboxd Link

[delunfiltered]

It’s Not Me, It’s You

Why it's always okay to say bye to toxic friends...

Friend Breakups Hurt in a Different Way

Breaking up with a friend has always been the hardest for me, harder than the boyfriend I swore I was in love with at 13, harder than the situationship that dragged on three months too long and left my heart looking like a shrivelled raisin, and definitely harder than the guy who only calls at 2am on a Friday after five pints and being rejected by everyone else at the club (but still swears he likes you the most... right?).

Romantic relationships come with an expiration date. Friendships? We treat them like they’re supposed to last forever. That makes the fallout messier, more confusing, and honestly a lot more painful.

The One That Woke Me Up

I’ve always been the type to give way too many chances. I try to see the best in people, justify their behaviour, and convince myself they’re just “going through something.”

But last year, I finally hit my limit.

I let go of a 10 year friendship. I won’t go into the gritty details because I like my peace these days, but let’s just say: it was toxic, it was exhausting, and it was long overdue.

And when it finally ended, I had a full on lightbulb moment. I told myself: “This is the last time I let someone treat me like this.”

The Difference Between a Bad Person and a Bad Friend

Let’s be real: not every bad friend is a bad person. But some are. And knowing the difference matters.

Bad person? Someone who hurts you on purpose. Who takes pleasure in your downfall. Who crosses boundaries with no care for the aftermath.

Bad friend? Someone who constantly dismisses you. Who makes everything about them. Who takes and takes but never gives back.

But sometimes the lines blur. And when a bad friend is also a bad person?

Cut. Them. Off.

Love Can Make You Delusional (Temporarily)

When you love someone, platonic or otherwise, you want to believe they mean well. You start making excuses:

“I know they shared that thing I told them in confidence, but maybe they didn’t realise it was private...” “They didn’t mean to make me feel like shit...”

Spoiler: They did. And they’ll do it again.

That’s why boundaries are essential. Not when things go wrong but before they go wrong. So when someone crosses your line, you don’t question your gut. You act on it.

Friendship Isn’t Supposed to Feel Like Shit

Friendships should feel like a safe space. Like home. Like support. Not like you’re constantly begging for someone’s approval.

If you find yourself questioning the friendship more than you’re enjoying it, it’s time to leave.

Now, don’t get me wrong, people forget things. We argue. We get defensive. We mess up. That’s just being human. But when it’s consistently one-sided? When you’re always the one giving, explaining, forgiving?

That’s not a friendship babe. That’s emotional labour and it’s unpaid and unappreciated.

You Might Be the Villain in Their Story and That’s Fine

Maybe they’re out there telling people you were the problem. Maybe you’re the villain in their version of events. But here’s the thing: when you know the truth and the real ones around you know the truth none of that matters.

Let them talk. Let them spin their story. You’re free now.

Protect Your Peace, Always

They’re not going to change, trust me... And you’re not responsible for fixing them. You don’t have to make yourself smaller just to keep someone else comfortable.

If you’re constantly walking on eggshells just to avoid upsetting them, that's not a friendship that you need.

Let them go.

Keep the people who:

Make you feel like your best self.

Celebrate your wins, even the small ones.

Give you honesty without turning it into a personal attack.

Know When to Walk Away

You deserve friendships that are fun, comforting, supportive and REAL.

So if a friendship is draining you more than it’s filling you up? Wish them well (or don't). Block them. Vent about it. Then play your best bad bitch playlist, smoke a cigarette... And move on.

Because some friendships aren’t meant to last forever and that’s how you make room for the ones that actually do.

[delunfiltered]

I Am Embarrassing and That’s Okay

Deciding to stop caring about you, your mum, or your grandma thinking I’m cringe…

Cringe Is a Universal Experience (Congrats, You're Normal)

Ever laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about that one thing you said years ago and cringing so hard you want to delete yourself from existence?

Same.

If that sounds like you, welcome. Keep reading.

We All Have “Negative Aura” Moments

My best friend and I once made a collection of our most embarrassing stories in our notes app to show each-other, our “negative aura moments”.

We laughed so hard reading through them. Like, tears streaming, snorting, hard to breathe laughing.

What hit me the most? The fact that in the moment, I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me… but looking back? It’s just funny. So stupidly human and funny.

Spoiler: Everyone Is Embarrassing

Every single person on this planet has done something cringe. Yes, even your crush. Even your favourite celebrity. Even that one perfect Instagram girl who looks like she doesn’t even fart.

We are all embarrassing. And the sooner you accept that, the freer you’ll feel.

Exhibit A: The Wave Incident

Just the other day, I thought someone was waving at me, so I waved back enthusiastically... Only to realise they were waving at the person behind me.

Cue me immediately texting Yasmin like, “I just waved at a stranger for no reason?? They probably think I’m so weird.”

And maybe they do. But are they going to remember it forever? Are they going to be 87 years old in a care home thinking, “Haha, remember when that random girl waved at me that one time in Tesco?”

Absolutely not.

Fear of Being Embarrassing Is Holding Us Back

So many of us stop ourselves from doing things; fun things, creative things, gutsy things, because we’re afraid of being seen as “cringe.”

“I can’t post that TikTok, what if people think I’m weird?” “I want to wear this outfit but what if someone laughs?” “I want to say something but what if I sound dumb?”

I’ve been there. A lot. But lately? I’ve stopped caring.

We get one life. And if you’re not doing something because you’re afraid of people judging you, you’re going to miss out on so much good stuff.

Cringe ≠ Insecurity (But It Feels Similar)

Here’s the thing: Insecurity is about how you see yourself. Cringe is about how you think others see you.

Insecurity takes time to work through. It takes self-love, self-reflection, growth. But embarrassment? You can decide right now to stop giving it power.

Let them think you’re a bit weird. Let them roll their eyes. Let them gossip, cringe, or even laugh.

You’ll survive.

Better yet, you’ll live.

Be Cringe and Free

So here’s your permission slip to be the main character. Be weird. Be messy. Be too much. Be cringe.

Because you know what’s way more embarrassing than being embarrassing?

Letting the fear of it stop you from living.

So yeah, I’m embarrassing. But at least I didn’t fall down the stairs on a double decker bus and flash my Gudetama underpants at a group of pensioners and a labrador… wait. No. That was me...

[delunfiltered]

I Can’t Be a Mother, I Just Bought a £20 Keychain!

Because not everyone dreams of a husband, a mortgage, and a minivan...

When I Was Five, I Didn’t Dream About Weddings.

Ask me what I wanted to be when I was a kid?

At five: someone who stood outside in a mascot costume handing out flyers (no, seriously). At seven: a fashion designer. Ten: a pro hockey player. Thirteen: a writer. Sixteen: an actress. Eighteen: literally anywhere but high school.

Not once did I dream about walking down the aisle or rocking a baby to sleep in a Pinterest-perfect nursery (Although I am currently deep-diving Pinterest for my classroom setup next year… that’s different.)

Even when I played with Barbies, the storyline was never “mum and dad and kids in the Dreamhouse.” Nope. My Barbies were cool girls. They lived in NYC lofts, ran fashion empires, threw rooftop parties. They had drama, ambition, slaying outfits and zero concern about finding a husband.

Maybe that was the first clue that my version of adulthood wasn’t going to follow the expected script.

It’s Not That I Hate Love, It’s Just That I Get Bored.

Let me be clear: I like dating. I like the flirty beginning, the texting games, the first dates, the getting to know you stage.

But then?

It always starts to feel... repetitive. Predictable. Copy-paste. Same jokes. Same goodnight texts. Same future talk I don't relate to. And eventually, someone catches feelings. Or worse, starts talking about “where this is going.”

I think that’s why I’m constantly drawn to emotionally unavailable men, or guys who straight up say, “I don’t want a relationship.” Spoiler: it’s not a them issue, it’s very much a me thing.

Because when a guy starts talking about the white picket fence, the three kids in coordinated Joules outfits, and mowing lawns on Sunday mornings?

Complete. And utter. Ick.

It’s Not About Hatred for Kids. It’s About Loving My Life.

I work with kids. I actually like them.

I just don’t want my own.

Not because I think children ruin lives or because I’m anti-motherhood but because I genuinely love my life. And if I’m being honest, I don’t want to change it.

I love sleeping in. I love waking up 15 minutes before work and running out the door with an iced latte in hand. I love travelling whenever I want, staying out until 3am, making bad decisions and laughing about them the next day. I love buying cute trinkets, overpriced matcha, toys from Pop Mart, and clothes I don’t need. I love having sleepovers and gossiping with my best friend like we’re still 15. I love having no rules, no obligations, no one else to consider.

If I got married, had kids, all that would change. There would always be someone else to think about. Always someone who needed me. And frankly? I’m still figuring out how to consistently feed my two turtles.

Does That Make Me Cold? Selfish? Immature?

Maybe.

Or maybe it just makes me honest.

For years, I told myself this was a phase. That I'd grow out of it. That I'd wake up one day desperate for a ring, a baby name list, and a home renovation project.

But I’ve gotten older. And if anything, I feel even more sure of what I don’t want.

Still, the world has a weird way of implying that choosing not to settle down is some sort of rebellion, or worse, failure. And I’m not here for that. Marriage and motherhood are valid paths. But they’re not the only ones.

And they’re definitely not mine. (At least not right now.)

Could I Change My Mind? Sure. But I’m Not Betting On It.

Maybe one day I’ll wake up in a cold sweat and start panic-buying Joules catalogues and watching “How to Mow a Lawn” tutorials on YouTube. Maybe I’ll meet someone who changes everything.

But if that ever happens, it’ll be my change, not a forced compromise because of what I "should" want.

Until then?

I’ll be planning my next holiday. Buying more useless crap. Sleeping in till the afternoon.

Living a life that’s a bit chaotic, very unpredictable, totally fulfilling and entirely mine.

[delunfiltered]

I’m Not Busy, I Just Don’t Want To!

Why I’ve started saying no…

The Power of Saying No

The word “no” tends to carry some pretty negative connotations. But in recent years, I’ve found that saying no can actually be… empowering.

I’ve never been a full-on people pleaser, but if you’re anything like me, you’ve probably said yes more times than you wanted to, just to keep the peace, make someone else happy, or to make life (in that moment) feel easier.

And this doesn’t just apply to social situations, it happens at work too. I spent most of my early twenties saying yes to everything, even when it wasn’t fair, even when it wasn’t making me happy.

The Tiny Requests That Drain Your Soul

“Can you work overtime again?” – Yes. Even if no one else on the team had done it all week. “Can you do the weekly clean?” – Yes. Even though I was already the one doing it every single time. “Can we do lunch at that steakhouse?” – Yes. Even though I’m strictly a chicketarian, and the one time I tried steak (at Drumheads, 2024), I literally puked in my mouth.

These seem like small favours, right? The kind of things your parents might brush off with a “don’t make a mountain out of a molehill.” But when you keep saying yes to things you don’t want to do, it adds up. You become that person; the dependable one, the default one, the one everyone goes to because they know you won’t say no.

No Doesn’t Make You Mean

I’m not saying you should start saying no to everything, that would make you a bit of an asshole. But maybe, just sometimes, instead of the automatic yes, take a pause. Talk it through. You can set a boundary without being blunt or rude.

Like:

“Hey, I don’t mind taking the bins out, but maybe it’s time we made a rota so it’s shared more fairly.”

“I actually can’t do overtime today.”

“I don’t eat meat, would you mind if we looked at some other restaurants?”

You Also Don’t Have to Fake a Scheduling Conflict

Here's the thing: you don’t have to lie either. You know the classic “Sorry, I’m super busy, I’ve got like 100 things to do” when, in reality, the only thing you’re doing is eating Takis with chopsticks and playing Sims 4 on the Xbox? (Guilty? We've all been there.)

You can be honest. You can just say you’re not feeling it.

The world won’t fall apart. No one is going to die. You’re allowed to say no without giving a 20-page essay on why you won’t be attending this year’s staff Christmas party: even though you went to the last one, got way too drunk, possibly embarrassed yourself in front of your coworkers, maybe twerked on your boss, and woke up the next day with the kind of hangxiety that makes you want to quit on the spot. (True story? Maybe…)

Saying No Is Self-Respect, Not Selfishness

You’re allowed to be unavailable. You’re allowed to rest. You’re allowed to just… not want to.

Saying no doesn’t make you selfish. Or unlikeable. Or unreliable. It makes you human, a human with boundaries.

You can be assertive and confident in your decisions without upsetting others. The key is protecting your peace. And honestly, if you don’t want to do something, no one should guilt or force you into it.

(Unless it’s your taxes… do your taxes.)

[delunfiltered]

This Time Last Year I Was Crying in a Cold, Moldy Maisonette in North London... From mold to mild sunstroke, upgrade!

If you’d asked me this time last year whether I’d be spending the summer holidays sleeping on a camp bed in the middle of my parents’ living room, begging them to take me to the pick-your-own vegetable patch and the transport museum, I would’ve laughed and said, “Uh, no way. You’re crazy, I’ve got way too much to do.”

But here we are. I’ve seriously slowed down and honestly, that’s not always a bad thing.

2023–2024 was a toxic, exhausting rollercoaster. I left Bristol, moved back home, and worked my ass off to save for a deposit and rent so I could live with my best friends. That dream turned into a cold, moldy maisonette on the outskirts of North London, with terrible roommates (including an ex-best friend). I was grinding through 12-hour shifts at one of the worst jobs I’ve ever had, plus a 1.5-hour tube commute each way. By the time I paid rent, bills, student loans, and council tax, I was basically broke, stressed, and completely defeated.

Sure, there were good moments I’ll always treasure, and my best friend Yasmin was my rock, keeping me emotionally sane. But when the chance to leave London came up again, I knew it was time.

Since returning to the UK for uni, I’d known I didn’t want to live here full-time. But the idea of moving alone to a country I’d never even visited before totally put me off. My inbox was full of offers for working holidays or volunteering abroad, sounded great, but I’m not a trust fund baby and there was no way I could justify putting myself into serious credit card debt just to fund a year-long trip.

Then one particularly brutal day at work, after being yelled at by my boss and staying two hours late for the third time that week, I’d had enough. I sat down in my ridiculously tiny bedroom and opened up TES. And there it was: a job listing for an Early Years teacher in Bahrain. A place I’d lived during my younger teen years. Somewhere that, at least partly, felt familiar. My fingers were typing faster than my brain could keep up. Two minutes later, my application was sent.

I didn’t expect a response, self-doubt was winning. But a few days later, I got an interview request. I’ve never been so terrified of failing. Still, I pulled on my big girl pants, researched for hours, and prepared like my life depended on it. Interview after interview, I nailed each one. And when the job offer came through, I cried; big, snotty, ugly tears. Equal parts joy and fear. Was I doing the right thing?

Then came the whirlwind: packing my life into two suitcases and a duffel bag, selling furniture, donating clothes, shedding eight years of accumulated stuff. Visa appointments. Doctor check-ups. All while still working at a miserable job that didn’t want me, but made it nearly impossible to leave. Like a tug of war: the more I asked to go, the more they begged me to stay. If there’s one piece of advice I took from that, it’s this: if a job acts like it doesn’t need you but won’t let you leave, it’s not a job worth staying in.

The physical stress was rough, but the emotional weight was heavier. My family hadn’t been back in the UK that long, and now I was leaving again. I was saying goodbye to people I’d grown close to, Yasmin, especially. We’d finally made it to the same place at the same time, and now I was about to walk away. As I packed up and said goodbye to her and that moldy flat, I sat with myself and wondered: Am I making a huge mistake? Should I pull out?

My mum, who’s spent much of her life living abroad, understood. She said, “If you hate it, we’ll book you a flight home and you can stay with us.” Words of encouragement wrapped in a blanket of support.

And that was that.

With my passport in one hand and a plastic folder full of documents in the other, I walked past the line separating passengers from those waving their goodbyes.

I boarded that plane.

When I arrived in Bahrain, it felt like most of my worries had been lifted. I was still nervous, of course, but my school was amazing. I’d only ever worked in small UK nurseries, never in a proper school setting, and while it was a scary jump, it felt right.

Setting up everything; phone, bank account, was surprisingly smooth, thanks to the school’s support. Apartment hunting felt like the biggest stress, but even that was kind of enjoyable. With a family like mine (whose religion is basically sun, sea, and selling houses), I’ve been raised to find joy in scouting out the perfect spot. Location, location, location.

I found a beautiful apartment close to school, my first place on my own, 100% mine. If you know me, you know it’s filled to the brim with Sanrio, Fugglers, and some truly creepy trinkets (a baby tooth, my own ripped-from-the-root fingernail, and a secondhand troll doll that looks like it’s seen hell). It’s weird. It’s wonderful. And it’s mine. Something I’ve never had before and something that feels like both a privilege and a massive achievement.

Yasmin also ended up moving back to Bahrain, and I’ve made some amazing friends who feel like family. Ingy, who lives right next door, has been such a support, who was also new this year. My team at work has been full of kind, encouraging, bright people. I feel welcomed, supported, blessed. Surrounded by sunshine, literally and metaphorically.

And now here I am, one year later, sitting at my parents' dining room table, writing this first blog post and thinking about how hard last year was.

But I did it.

And that means you can too.

If you’re thinking about starting over… If you’re nervous about doing something on your own… If you’re sitting there asking, What’s next?

My completely unfiltered, honest advice?

Just fucking do it. You’ll look back one day and ask yourself: Why didn’t I take that offer? Why didn’t I board that plane? Why didn’t I create some sunshine for myself?

If you’re scared, broke, and googling ‘how to move abroad’ at 2 a.m. You’re probably exactly where you need to be.