5 tips for when you have to move back home

5 tips to help you deal with moving back home after a year abroad….

 

  1. GET A TAN AND GET IT ASAP

If you’ve been in colder climates nothing can prepare you for how blueish-white you will feel in comparison to the bronzed sun worshippers you are now surrounded by. Nip this issue in the bud and get a fakey as soon as possible after you land. You will not only feel slimmer (in case of any extra kgs hanging around) but you will instantly feel less out of place. If you can get out in the sun for a bit, even better! Get that Vitamin D into your skin and let nature do the rest. Exposure to the sun stimulates the production of Vitamin D in your skin – a natural mood booster that will help lift those return to home blues.

 

  1. INVEST IN SOME SUNSCREEN

Ever wonder why you never seem to get as red lobster burnt when holidaying in other parts of the world as you do in the sun at home? Well, REMINDER: this part of the world has a HOLE IN ITS OZONE LAYER! So invest in some sun protection and save that skin, especially if you’re going outside to get your Vitamin D fill. As that pesky pelican used to say Thlip, Thlop, Thlap!

 

  1. GET ON THE BLOWER

Call up your family and your mates. Maybe you cut some of them in an elaborate goodbye-cruel-world type speech at your going away party but… that was a year ago now so get on the phone and call em up. People want to hear from you. Start reforging those all important relationships that might have fallen to the way side while you were away. You’re going to need them back in your life now so get to it.

 

  1. GET BUSY

Now you’ve rekindled all those family ties and friendships you’ve got plenty of people to get out and about with. You will need to keep yourself busy and hit the ground running. The likelihood is that you have no money, no job, probably moved back in with your parents and will struggle without a sense of purpose. Do not worry. Busy yourself catching up with people and re-exploring your hometown. It will get you out of the house and give you something to do while you adjust to being back home.

 

  1. GET A LOBOTOMY

You’ll need it to forget about all the amazing people you met and places you’ve been to now that you’re back. Consider them just a distant dream and never cast your mind over them again and you will be fine. In lieu of a lobotomy, start planning your next overseas trip ASAP and count down the days until you can get away again!

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5 tips for when you have to move back home

my grandma was a prostitute

And this year it changed my life but not in the way you might think.

As far as we can determine, my grandma was on the wrong side of the tracks. Born in Dublin, she moved out to Australia with her parents when she was 8. By 25 she had had a partner, a husband and an affair, she’d given up 3 children to adoption, gone by at least 4 different names and her only listed occupation was as an exotic dancer. Her very short marriage, during which she had no children, ended dramatically following claims of domestic violence after she attacked her then husband with a knife. In 1966 she was seen scantily clad in Side Show Alley at the Sydney Easter Show. This was the last known sighting of her, despite there being no record of her death. This is also the only information we have about her. With a checkered past and a few pseudonyms under her belt, grandma had vanished without a trace. Until this day not even the Australian government know who or where she is.

50 years later, all her name changes, lies, cover ups and dubious acts have had more of an impact on my life than I would have dreamt of. I write this blog as a very single 27yr old in the dimly lit, dank asbestos box that is my apartment in Dublin, Ireland. I live below a taxi-driving, drug using couple and next to a dog called Crumpet. The beautiful area I call home is Dublin 6 in the city’s inner south, affectionately nicknamed the Dirty Half Dozen. Earlier this year I packed my life in to 37kgs and crossed the globe to a place I fell in love with the previous summer. A place full of promise, intrigue and excitement. A place where, with my grandmothers Irish heritage, I could gain an Irish passport and settle for good. Ha if only.

Instead my Golden Ticket to the EU has remained out of reach. The privacy laws surrounding adoption in Australia and a shed load of government red tape has me left high and dry. You see, despite the undeniable fact that my grandmother was born right here in Dublin, I lack the documentation to prove it. With her apparent and seemingly deliberate disdain for honesty and her legal name, Grandma has made it almost impossible to convince anyone she’s one in the same. In a game that’s all about ticking boxes I can’t muster up as much as a coinciding name and birthdate. I mean, if the Australian government can’t determine this woman’s whereabouts, what hope do I have.

So after a year long wait and to no avail, I can wait no longer. My visa runs out March 4th and despite my efforts, I must admit defeat and make my way home, with my proverbial tail between my legs. But before I do I have decided to start a blog to document the places I’ve been, things I’ve loved, things I’ve not and show you why I really want to stay in Ireland. Despite the weather. Despite the ghastly minimum wage. Despite being away from my family. Despite the lack of decent healthcare. Despite not being able to pay with card in cabs. Despite the cost of living. Despite the chips not being properly salted. Despite 1 and 2 cent pieces….

My grandma was a prostitute and in a very weird way, it inspired me to start this blog.

my grandma was a prostitute