I actually haven’t had a Starbucks in ages, but I’ve been fancying one a lot, lately.
I was scrolling through my Instagram and I found that one thing that accelerates the closer you get to 2012, is images of my hands holding Caramel Coffee Frappuccino’s with extra caramel syrup and drizzle, over and over again.
Another thing that accelerates the further you delve, in between the classic 2012 posts of the old frozen coffee and Urban Outfitters hauls, is my careless manor in my posts.
Looking back, I feel almost detached from myself, like the person in these photos (apart from being about a size 12 and having long, natural coloured hair).. (it won’t be long 15 year old me, I promise), actually isn’t me. I feel like I am looking at photographs of somebody else’s life.
Do you remember the ‘Hudson’ Instagram effect? I used that on every single photo. I remember uploading a photo of anything, chucking on my filter and having done with it.
Life seemed simpler. Life looks simpler.
I took a photo every morning of the way the sun used to hit my wardrobe, and post it. In the evenings reading my favourite magazine. In the early mornings of 6am, taking my frozen Innocent Smoothie from the freezer and munching away at a punnet of strawberries before anyone else was awake.
It seems ironic to me now, as I progress to the images I took when I was 16, things seem to change. Posts less frequent, more thought out. No random shots of wardrobes or candles or mini eggs. The vibe changes.
In the summer of the time I left school, I used to feel like the days dragged on forever, starting at 6am, I’d wake up and surely have something planned. I’d go somewhere like the beach, or walk somewhere with my friends, and everything would just last forever. And 9pm wasn’t bed time, or preparing for work the next day, it was time to sit and talk on the phone for hours on end, read books, burn through candle, after candle, after candle, and sort through my makeup draws at 1am.
In early summer, I see my progression in my photography, and it changes again. I start enjoying the Valencia Instagram filter, and enjoying that warming hue on my photos. It’s a happy one. Careless, I’d say. I wore what I wanted, when I wanted, went from girly-girl to don’t-give-a-shit in 24 hours flat, and it looks like bliss.
Orange dress? I rocked it, with my Urban Outfitters sunnies and my bright red Doctor-bloody-Martens. I LOVED THEM. I bought a patent pink pair to match Nicki Minaj, too!
As we move closer to the present, the photos of Starbucks become less frequent and few and far between. My photos become more consistent in the content, but less consistent in their timings.
Valencia was no more.
VSCO App stepped in.
In late 2013, I become depressed.
I can probably pin point the exact photo that is the last photo I feel that posted as the person I used to be.
Oh the bloody irony of that one!
Something changed inside me, and I wouldn’t even be able to tell you exactly why, or what. They say that it’s a chemical imbalance in the brain, and I definitely felt imbalanced, to put it lightly.
I did perk up a bit though, I was consistently taking my anti-depressants, and had a Mum that was fully supportive, and behind me every step of the way.
Somehow, I became that kid. You know, the one that thinks their medications are making them worse. So clever little me decided to stop taking my anti depressants, stockpiling my prescriptions and thinking, ‘I’ll start again tomorrow’.
I fluttered in and out of taking them for a while, maybe a year or so. Deciding I was taking them, and then when I felt better (because I was taking them, obvs), I would stop and think, ‘You don’t need this kid, you’ve got this!’ And strut myself around for a couple of days (or until it ran out of my system via sleeping it off for days on end) and realised I’d messed up, and start the process all over again.
I became a bit of a faker. I’d post when I felt good, and post when I felt like crap. I’d make sure that the people of Instagram would never know that I was depressed(??!!!) God forbid my One-Hundred-and-Forty-Two Instagram followers thought, ‘I know why she’s not posting, she’s mentally ill!’, but needs must and I continued to mask away the way I felt. Via VSCO filters, of course.
I used to over process my photos majorly. Mainly by way of procrastination, and it’s probably how and why I became so obsessed with it, and got so good at it. I still do it when I enjoy it now, but only when I feel up to it, and these days those times are few and far between.
There was a time when 2012 @abb.jpg posted 3, 4 and sometimes 5 times a day. I’d like my own photos for moral support, and bathe in the glory of my 11 likes, (because that was the only number that used to actually turn to a number, rather than showing peoples names), and I felt popular. But most of all, I felt whole and content.
Back to my Caramel Coffee Frappe.
So, the closer to now that we get, the less and less we see the appearance of the good old Frappe. Now, absolutely do not get me wrong here, I am not linking my depression with caffeine deprivation, nor the loss of convenience of coffee-through-a-straw, but quite the opposite.
When my mind set just isn’t there, I can’t do the things I love. When I don’t feel I have the time to do things, I physically cut out the things that I enjoy, to make room in my brain for the more important things, like ironing my uniform, and washing my hair.
Somewhere along the line here, I’ve lost myself. Lost myself to the idea that time is constantly slipping away from me, and I surely won’t have time to work and play? So I set aside time to work only. And all work and no play makes Abbie… OCD?
Yeah, OCD. Obsessive over time, and leaving for work 2 hours early.. just to miss the traffic.. that would only otherwise take me 40 minutes. Obsessive over setting alarms to wake up to give myself enough time. Constantly checking the clock and allowing anxiety to set in over waking up the following day, and having time to do what I need to do when I get home.
But I never, ever have enough time.
That is.. until I realised, that it was my own decision to think that way.
So I’m going for a Starbucks today, to wash down my anti-depressants, and I’ll sort everything else out later.
Taking each moment as it comes, because life is just too short to restrict yourself.
Take care of yourself and give yourself enough time. You never know what is around the corner.
What use is living for tomorrow, when today is happening right now?
The Silver Line – for older people
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