The first Saturday of September 2007, and off I was to Spain....not for a holiday but to live.
My mum was already there and I'd been staying with my dad until I went over too. Me, my brother and my dad all set off for Spain together. Dad was just staying two weeks for a little holiday.
I actually shed a little tear as the plane lifted off the ground in England - I didn't no when I was coming back and I was leaving some great friends behind.
At first it was like a holiday, going to the beach, shopping and even a nice Irish bar 5 minute walk away - I was loving it...then the two weeks were up and my dad headed home. Not being that close with my dad I thought I wouldn't be that bothered...and to fair, I wasn't - but what made me sad was the fact he was going home...and I wasn't.
Once he had left the fun was over and series living started...I needed a job, my savings were slowly disappearing and I couldn't expect to sunbath everyday.
My mum found a job in an English shop that sold bits and bobs - my brother got a bit of work in a garage, but for no money and not for long as the owner up and left..
I didn't speak Spanish and here I was living in Spain!!
We had an apartment on an English complex, it was lovely but the problem was the other people that lived there were older than my gran and any people my age were only staying a week or twos holiday....
I love my family but sometimes you need more than your mum and brother 24/7, and with them off at work I was even more alone...all the places I asked for a job weren't interested because of the language barrier.
I was only there a month and I knew I wanted to come back to England, I felt so alone...I had the internet and could see all my friend carrying on with there lives and having a great time and it only made me feel even more home sick.
At the end of October I told my mum I was coming back to England, I still had enough savings to pay for the cheap flight myself...she wasn't happy but knew that I had made up my mind and she couldn't stop me from what I really wanted.
I decided to stay for Christmas and new year, and the weekend after my birthday (early January) I was booked onto a flight back home....I checked in and my family walked me as far as they could before I had to go through security alone - we must of looked a sight, I was trying to keep it together and my mum was blubbering all over me - she watched me through security and I turned to wave before turning the corner and into the terminal...I went straight into the toilet and cried in a cubicle, I was sad I was leaving them behind but at the same time happy I was doing this for myself and knew I would see them as soon as I could.
My dad picked me up at the airport in Leeds, and I moved back in with him...
I was lucky enough to get my old job back and my friends were there still for me which was great.
Deciding to up and leave my mum and brother was the hardest decision I ever had to make; I did not want to be far away from them, but I knew that coming back to England was the right thing for me to do. I am proud that I was brave enough to leave.
I spoke to my mum nearly everyday, using webcam so we could see each other...unfortunately it didn't work out for my mum in the end. The shop she had been working in for months closed, and it was around the same time that she decided to leave my step dad. My brother was not overly enjoying himself in Spain, and craved to come home too, and so my mum made the hard decision to let go of her dream and come home to be close to her two sons.
Although I was sad that my mum and brother didn't stay in Spain as they had originally wanted, I must admit I was pleased to have them closer to me.
And my little internet friend I spoke to everyday whilst in Spain was so nice to me too - in fact so nice we ended up meeting up a month after I made it back to England...we have been best friends ever since...thank you Carl for keeping me sane over there.