"Living the dream"

 For years, all I've dreamed of is travel. Exploring the avenues and alleyways of old Kyoto, to diving with sharks off the coast of Hawaii. These are experiences that I've always craved desperately. Yet here I am, theoretically living the dream of surfing every day under the hot African sun and immersing myself in a culture so different to my own. This past year leading up to me arriving in Gran Canaria, I've been spending hours lying in my bed at night, dreaming of finally becoming the person I want to be so badly. Tan, strong body, a good surfer and fluent in Spanish. It's finally come true, I've made it here. But I'm not happy. 

Before I dive into the ins and outs of my overly dramatic miserable existence, I need to take things back a step to Barcelona 2018. There, I had my first experience of "living the dream". A place far away from home, where everything is new and scorching hot sun for months on end. When I wasn't working during the week, I spent my time sitting at local cafes, gorging myself on ice cream and chatting with girls that I'd met that day but most likely would never see again. Then on the weekends, I spent my time drunk on the beach with various groups of people from all over the world. Australia, Germany, USA, Ireland, the list goes on. I was living the dream, and after years of feeling trapped in a life I hated, and a traumatic first semester at University, I was finally on the path to finding out who exactly I was and for the first time in years, I was actually happy. 

Fast forward to 2019, my time in Barcelona had come to an end and I was back at University. I was studying albeit something different to what 17 year old me had anticipated but I still enjoyed it. I'd found myself a solid group of friends how I could rely on and trust, and they were far from the judgmental sexist lads and bitchy girls that I had dealt during my first attempt at University. I have started exercising again. filling my time with going for intense workouts at the gym, studying (and actually being motivated to do it) or hanging out in the kitchen with friends and getting drunk in the Student's Union (and enjoying this time). Then at the end of January, I met Oli and our relationship blossomed. 

Things were extremely different this time round, I had a healthy strong relationship with someone who loved me for who I was, I had a solid group of friends who I spent most days with, and I was actually enjoying my degree. The tan faded, my blonde baby hairs went back to their dull brown and I became comfortable with Sheffield and my life there. I realised that Barcelona was a place that could never really be revisited, since it represented a period of time where I spent my days trying to work through my trauma, and as cliché as it sounds, "find myself".

Then, 2020 hit, and we all know what a disaster that was. My year abroad was suddenly looking like a complete impossibility and I made the decision to move in with Oli during lockdown. We rented a small one bedroom apartment in Sheffield City Centre and spent all day, every day, together. It's the kind of relationship test that no one ever expected to have to happen. Two people, trapped in a small flat together for 6 months, with very little to do (especially since I had no University). But somehow, it was bliss. Sure, it probably would've been better if we were able to go for a night out and go to the pub, but we made it work. Somehow, we rarely argued, and never got bored of each other's company.  I spent my time setting up my Etsy shop and filling it with my new-found love for illustration, or painting Oli in oils on a massive canvas.

But suddenly, I found out a girl on my course managed to travel to Spain and everything changed. My comfortable environment that I had built with someone who I became incredibly close to and loved more than anything else, was turned upside down. Within 24 hours I was back in London, preparing to fly out to Gran Canaria. I spent the train down to London bawling my eyes out, as I didn't even get to say a proper good-bye to Oli (I was late for the train and had to run). Everything that I loved so much, this way of life that we had built, was gone in a day. 

But I kept telling myself, "Liana, it'll be fine, there'll be hot sun, beautiful beaches and plenty of surfing to keep you occupied, you'll love it".

So here I am now, spending my days going to University in the mornings, and surfing in the afternoons. Completely exhausted by 9pm and then doing it all again the next day. But I'm not happy. 

Like I previously said, I've dreamt of a life of non-stop travel and never having roots in one place. I wanted roots everywhere! I never imagined myself tied to a relationship, and I'd never been bothered about being away from my family. 

Something changed. I think the reality is that I've finally found myself. I found myself a place surrounded by people I love, who love me, and I spent my days doing things I love. Is that not the dream life? Sure, I'm currently in paradise and I love surfing and learning about a new culture. But it's not the same without the friends and the boyfriend I love. That's the big thing that's missing from my life. I am so incredibly lonely. 

The truth is, you cannot be happy in paradise if you are not surrounded by love.