In which Demi's motivation and mojo emerge from hibernation

Bonjour! I have returned! After another heinous absence, I know. In all truth, I feel like I've just been in the wrong headspace for the last few months. My journal-keeping went out the window along with my blogging, I stopped keeping up with other blogs, and generally lost my writing mojo. Along with my motivation, pro-activity, interest and all sorts of pretty important things.

I was stuck in a massive rut. One the size of the Grand Canyon. Six months out of a prestigious university, with a high 2:1 degree in English, I was working full-time as a waitress in a creparie, on minimum wage, feeling my brain slowly atrophy into mush.

I moved home after university for a number of reasons - mainly because of my health, which threw off all plans of a job until it was sorted. And without a job, I had no money to rent my own place. And, truthfully, I was scared. Scared of graduate life - real life - without the buffers of studentdom. Of holding down a job and paying bills and finding somewhere to live and starting fresh with no-one I knew. Even though I'd trotted off to Nottingham happily enough, that was different - I was living in halls of residence, I had no real responsibilities other than showing up for classes, and I knew two people from school in my own hall, never mind one of my best friends being across the road in another hall.

So I came home. As, I'd assumed, many others in my situation would.

I was wrong. Massively wrong.

I'd (stupidly) assumed that life at home would be similar to my life before uni. I was looking forward to catching up with friends from home, from high school. And it just didn't happen - because nobody came home to stay. The majority headed back to uni at the end of the summer - third years, fourth years, PGCEs, Masters and law school called them away. S. took a much-needed extended vacation following her Cambridge law degree, before she started work at one of the most successful law firms in the country. A. got herself suited up [stylishly so; if there's one thing A. doesn't do, it's boring office clothes] and headed down to London to start her climb up the long ladder at PWC. And my darling Elf strapped on her skis at the end of October to try her hand as a ski instructor for a season. She returns on Monday and I am practically giddy with anticipation.

Because when Elf left, it was just me. Me, and two of my best male friends - one who had no idea what to do post-uni, one who had gone straight into work after quitting school and was soaring up the ranks in the company he works for. And though I love them both dearly, they are two of the most useless people I know when it comes to replying to messages, remembering things and making plans.

So my social life quickly dried up, and although I had a job it was hardly stimulating. I found myself growing more and more sloth-like, unable to muster the energy or enthusiasm even to write. It was a new experience for me, one which I found supremely uncomfortable; I have been writing, in some guise, shape or form, since I was a child. To lose the will to write scared me, and made me even more miserable.

It all came to a head over Christmas, when everyone came home again. I was so excited to see everyone, but became quickly depressed by all of their exciting lives and stories, by seeing faces freeze into awkward smiles as they said "oh, that sounds... nice" when I said I was working as a waitress. While out for a meal with my home-girls, mid-lecture/pep talk by A. and S., I suddenly felt the tears start to well up as I shrugged off their questions about what I was doing about job searching, and why I wasn't being proactive, trying to make jokes and deflect them.

Being quizzed by two of the most driven and career-minded people I've ever met, who had no concept of why I was not pushing myself forward, and subsequently feeling so worthless and lazy and confused, was the thing that tipped me over the edge. I started crying as everything seemed to crash over me, feeling desperately embarrassed at making such a scene at dinner. A. grabbed me and steered me outside, where everything came tumbling out. How I'd been avoiding visiting her in London because I was so jealous of her new lifestyle. How I felt like I was letting everyone down. How I'd suddenly lost all of my enthusiasm for PR, and now had no idea what to apply for because I didn't want to do anything other than stay in and watch movies and bad TV. How lonely I was, and how hard it had been to go back to living under my parents' roof having lived away for three years, but how I felt I'd regressed back to a teenage state after becoming accustomed to it.

I've never been one to make New Years Resolutions. But for 2013, I promised myself that I would make a change. That I would figure out what I was going to do, and then just bloody do it. I was healthy, I was (and hopefully still am) smart, and I owed it to myself, and to others, to get going again.

And, out of the blue, an opportunity fell into my lap. The daughter of one of my mum's horse-riding friends rang me one morning in January, and said that she'd heard I was looking for a job. She enquired about what I was looking for, and asked if would I be interested in an Admin Assistant position at the Human Relations company she worked at.

Within a week or so, I was being interviewed by them. Although not directly related to PR, I knew the job would be a massive step in the right direction – lots of typing, answering the phones, general admin assistance, and the proper office experience which I desperately needed. Coming from a waitressing job, I knew I would be able to handle the hosting aspect of the job – keeping the centre presentable and topping up the tea, coffee, fruit, biscuits etc for the participants and clients of the courses being held at the centre. I almost lost the job when they tested my (highly rusty) typing and Excel skills, but was equally shocked and delighted when they offered me the job less than an hour after I’d returned home.

I handed in my notice at the creparie, and have since been working at the Human Relations company for just over two months now. I am infinitely happier – learning new skills, using my brain(!), meeting new people daily. I get on really well with the rest of the staff, of which I feel very much the baby of the group (but in a nice way). It’s so different from when I was bouncing off one other staff member at the creparie most days, as it was only a small shop. I’m earning more, and have been able to afford trips to both London and Nottingham, so I feel much more connected to my friends, even with the distance.

The job was initially a six-month contract, with the potential to continue, and with half of my time there now spent I am starting to look ahead, and think about what I want to do. The reassuring fact is that I’m not facing forward with trepidation now, but excitement. I’ve got my mojo, my confidence back. I’ve remembered what it’s like to feel like myself again, and I have no intention of letting that go. I’m reading more, and writing snippets here and there. I’m intently keeping up with the news once more, with the newest beauty products, with film releases and my other interests.

I care again. And it’s such a relief, and a blessing, that it’s horrible to even cast my mind back a couple of months to when I simply... didn’t. I was just existing; trudging through empty, repetitive and tiring days.

I’ve got a ton of ideas for blog posts – raving about music I’m loving, new tech, a whole bunch of new beauty treats, thoughts on books and films I’ve been enjoying recently.

Demi is back. And, hopefully, she’s here to stay again. xo.