Wow.
I’m a little lost for words on how to open this, other than hello. I’m back.
One whole fucking year later.
My last London Letters post was October 2024, and in an unplanned turn of events, October 2025 is when I make my return to this series.
You must have loads of questions. Shit like: Where the fuck have you been? How are you doing? What does life look like in London for you now? Why haven’t you been writing as much? Who are you living with now? Where are you in your quarter-life crisis? Are you seeing anybody? What does dating even look like for you?
I don’t know if I can answer all of them, but I can sure as hell try.
The past year has been a very interesting one to say the least, so in short, I guess I’ve been busy living life….or trying to.
I wouldn’t necessarily say I’ve been any good at it, but then again, who actually is? We’re all just adults winging it, right?
Honestly, where to start?
- Visited Toronto after 9-10 months away last December
- Travelled to LA in February
- Celebrated my first anniversary of living in the UK in Scotland in March
- Found out my work contract from my previous job wasn’t getting extended at the end of that month
- Went into full-blown survival mode, trying to find another job in this shitty job market before ending up broke and on the streets
- Secured a new full-time position (hello music biz, did you miss me?)
- Got hometown visits from one of my bestie friends (x2) and my sister
- Started my new full-time position and don’t entirely suck at it
- Said goodbye to my old flatmates whom I’ve lived with for the past year, and quickly became like the younger siblings I never had
- Turned 25 and realized I didn’t evade the quarter-life crisis just because I have part of my life sorted out, I’m just suffering a different kind
- Went on a few work trips within the first 3-4 months — France, Germany, and Italy (x2)
- Said hello to two new flatmates, launching myself into the head tenant life
- Went on another solo Euro trip to Spain and Portugal, and connected with part of my family’s ancestry like I’d never experienced before — Madrid, Lisbon, Seville, and Barcelona in the span of a week
- Nothing has really shifted in my dating life (or lack thereof) this year, but have made the realization that even though I have a type, my type doesn’t really like me and that dating looks a lot different for women of colour — a fact that I’ve begun to slowly unpack in therapy
- Mental health has been a rollercoaster with far too many buildups and drops
The lesson in all of this?
It is remarkable all the shit you’re able to accomplish when you have your own back.
And I made that my mantra when I moved out here — there is absolutely nobody on this planet that will have your back, the way that you have your own.
It comes with the whole “independence” thing, which I’ve fully embraced since before I was even old enough to understand what it was.
I know how capable I am at taking care of myself, and in enjoying my own company, and in trying to find the peace within my own chaos. I’m not shy to the world shattering around me and telling myself, “like always, it’s gonna be okay. We’ll move through this like we always do,” and having to manifest strength out of nowhere and out of nothing to move through those dark moments, or waking hours.
My reality is coming home to myself. Choosing myself, even on days when I’m too tired, because I haven’t been afforded the alternative of someone else choosing me.
But you truly test your own strength when you’re up against a wall and have access to a limited number of tools to get yourself down. When you’re staring failure in the face, the last thing you want to do is give up.
So you fight like hell. Throw all you’ve got behind it. And only when you’ve started to grasp the reality of life again can you think about repairing your wounds.
Having my own back is exhausting.
I’m so tired. I wish, at times, I could pass some of this weight onto someone else, but have had very little success in finding (and keeping) someone who’d be up for the job (refer to point 14).
Don’t get me wrong, though. I do love being on my own. Despite the intense responsibility of having to keep yourself alive (and getting crafty about it), it’s been so immensely freeing and satisfying. Knowing that I got here because of me. Knowing that I’m still here because of me. I haven’t asked for any financial support from anyone (and that, of course, hasn’t come without accumulating some debt, but I haven’t made it anyone else’s problem). I’ve forged my own path. I haven’t needed to ask for help.
I love every inch of my independence, including my own company.
But sometimes, it does turn on its head.
When I went on my third solo Euro trip to Spain and Portugal in September, travelling between four cities in seven days, it was another time (in a handful of times this year) where I felt really lonely despite being surrounded by beauty (and people) in every corner.
It was an exhausting trip because of how much I was moving around, but it was still unforgettable. Walking through the streets of Madrid and staying in the heart of the city, or looking out at the sea from Lisbon’s Miradouro de Santa Luzia and pushing myself to conquer the city on foot, or enjoying a peaceful evening stroll through Seville’s countless passageways, or living Ed Sheeran’s “Barcelona” in real time down to the letter, while also having some of the best tapas I’ve ever consumed in my life.
But it was the first time that I was doing something for myself — experiencing the world in the way the younger version of me had probably always dreamed — and I felt like something was missing. Or rather, someone.
And that was difficult. For two reasons:
- I was alone and on the go, so there wasn’t really anywhere for this feeling to go. It meant I had to sit with it for the duration of the trip, which made it uncomfortable sometimes.
- It was the first time I had to admit to myself that this was something I clearly yearned for and wanted. I had to fully accept that even though I quite like being on my own and being independent, I do wish I could experience these things with someone else. It was a tough pill to swallow.
I saw a TikTok the other day that I really resonated with. It read:
“No one really talks about the weight of doing it all on your own — building a career, paying rent, keeping it together. Sometimes I look at my friends with partners who split the bills, who get to exhale, and I feel envy. Not for the relationship, but for the support. The safety. The someone saying ‘don’t worry, I’ve got it’…and maybe that envy isn’t ugly after all, maybe it’s just a mirror, showing me what I crave. Not rescue, but rest.“
I read that and thought, “Great, I’m not alone in this feeling, but why don’t I feel any better about it?“
I suppose that’s what makes this whole adulting thing so hard. I talked about it in a London Letter last year, that it’s not easy and life gets messier, but I wasn’t prepared for it to be so heavy as well. But I can’t afford to give up because again, I don’t have the luxury of someone picking it up after me or offering to carry it for me for a bit.
The difference between this London Letter and the last one from a year ago is the self-discovery.
I’ve been trying to find myself and figure myself out. Confronting a lot of deep thoughts. Going through the motions. Asking myself some really tough questions. Namely: How am I going to survive today? And how am I going to show up today?
This isn’t me saying that I’ve just spent the last year of my life being absolutely miserable. That’s not what I’m saying at all.
I love the life that I’m building for myself in London. And as I told my therapist, I love the person and the woman I’m becoming.
It’s fucking hilarious because in a recent session, I told her that if you were to put Toronto me and London me in a room together, they wouldn’t have much in common. Simply put, one lived to work and the other is working to live.
And sure, it hasn’t been easy. It’s actually been really hard. And I struggle every day, even though on social media (the platforms I share my life with people), you don’t necessarily see it.
But you’re reading the words of a woman who wakes up every day and chooses herself, because no one else is going to.
And even though it’s tough, it’s a start.
ED out x.
State of London: this month’s grievances
- london weather being unable to make up its mind
- lime bikes
- weekends being only two days
- london’s hard water damaging my skin
- there’s no such thing as an original idea in this city (especially on the weekends)
- central london…specifically oxford street
- radiated heating
- the tube during peak hours (aka the only hours i take it most days of the week)
- dating apps
- 27-year-old men
- instagram’s current algorithm
- pricey cocktails
Listen to: If We Were Vampires // Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit
Listen to The Sound of Unfiltered HERE
Ellie Doe-Demosse 