btw, she thinks she's a writer now

chapter 2,345 of becca's never ending crisis

If you don’t know me, hello, hi, how do you do? I’d like to formally introduce myself if that’s ok.

I’m becca. I was born and raised amongst the scenic if not slightly dull, rolling hills of South Devon, where I spent my childhood devouring books and daydreaming about the places I’d visit and the person I’d become once I was finally free from the confines of my small town.

say cheese!

I was spoilt really, I can honestly say that I had everything a little girl could want. A loving family, a safe home, an education, and even annual caravan holidays in the South of France. As children often are, I was frequently asked “Rebecca, what do you want to be when you grow up?”.

To which the answers were forever changing.

• First, it was an Olympic swimmer. (That sunk like a lead balloon, or more aptly, an anchor)

• Then a dolphin trainer (I went so far as to email SeaWorld directly to ask how I should go about becoming qualified to train orcas and other poor emancipated porpoises)

• I briefly wanted to be an author, or a librarian, or both. (Neither happened but I do have an English literature degree, slay)

• A marine biologist (I fucking suck at maths)

• A photographer (I thought I should get an academic degree instead)

• A psychologist (I was mentally ill)

• Then while at university, a digital journalist (I couldn’t afford the master’s degree)

rocking my bowl cut (left) on a holiday in the french alps circa 2004 (?)

So what am I doing now? At 26 years old?

Yes, you guessed it, I’m a barista.

I say this jovially because let’s be honest:

1. There’s nothing wrong with being a barista. Everyone I know loves coffee. I love coffee. And I’m having a good time making it! You can have a cool career nowadays working in the coffee industry and get super nerdy about blends and roasts and all that wonderfully caffeinated stuff - stop being so judgy!

2. I worked in media and marketing for four years after university and if I’m being honest, it’s not as half as glam as they all make it out to be.

This came about as this year I’ve had to stare down the barrel of the gun and address some of my deepest darkest insecurities.

Firstly, I critically misunderstood something when I was a young, impressionable, and hyper-imaginative child. Namely, the career you choose will define you.

I honestly believed (and still lowkey kinda do) that my value comes from the grades I get, the promotions I’m awarded, and the trophies I collect. Our generation was repeatedly told, ‘You can do WHATEVER you want if you just put your mind to it’. I was the first in my family to ever go to university. I was told by teachers that if I worked hard enough, I could easily get a B, maybe even an A. And you know what, I put in the work. It never came naturally to me, I defo worked double time. But it isn’t enough just to survive when you have the opportunities of the whole world at your feet. You have to be great and do meaningful things, otherwise, you are nothing.

3 degrees hotter - me (left) & my friends graduating in 2019

For example, this year I completed a bucket list dream that I never really thought I’d achieve. I ran the London Marathon. Not only that, I got to run it the same year as my mum ran HER very first marathon. I crossed the finish line and burst into tears. Was it with pride at my success? No. Because I was ashamed that I had been unable to finish it in my goal time of 4hrs 45mins. My family hugged me and my friends congratulated me but I only felt embarrassed and ashamed that I’d failed and done so publically on the streets of my favourite city.

my london marathon highlights

This final (perceived) failure on top of a shit-filled wheelbarrow of my other (perceived) failures this year (the breakdown of a long-term relationship, leaving the city, moving back into my parent’s home, having to leave my professional job, being unable to get a new bloody professional job, etc etc) tipped me over the edge. Full frontal burnout, end-game level IDGAF exhaustion.

I can’t do anything but I want to do everything! I have a million and one ideas, but I am unable to finish simple tasks, stick to schedules, or even remember to take my washing out of the machine. How am I ever going to be great when I’m hardly even good? My friend replied:

“You can just do it for fun btw.”

So this is that.

A bit of everything that interests me. Messy, imperfect, rambling and casual. It’ll be whatever I’m into that month. Probably travel-related, destination guides, book recs, coffee shop round-ups, musings on mental health and neurodivergence, rants about running, the occasional orca appreciation post, and my ongoing uncertainty about the future.

Feel free to stick around x

by, becca mae.