I was a student once more, what the heck was I doing to myself? Oh yes, trying to do something positive and happy for once in my life. I was feeling lucky that my parents and friends were supportive of this massive risk I was taking. Failure was not an option. If I didn't the grades this time, I would never get the grades. The students on my course were either the same age as me or a lot older. As the months went on, more and more started to walk away and say that going to University wasn't for them. I was very nearly one of those people.
I had at least three clear Universities in my mind that I was interested in becoming a student at. My top one was my local Uni, yes, it was going to save transport and living costs if I stayed with my family. But still, I was craving for a little slice of independence. The other two universities I was looking at were hundreds of miles away, one in the middle of nowhere but the campus looked stunning. Both of them looked like a setting out of a fairytale. But I would need to get more money together and be certain that I could cope with my anxiety being away from home.
That year before I returned to college, I saw a therapist on the NHS where by this stage, my diagnosis for anxiety and depression had been confirmed. My old college were fully aware, as I had chosen nervously to disclose it to my teachers before applying for degrees. I knew about an old school friend who had recently been asked to leave college because of his depression. They got no support and had to finish the last year of their course from home, simply because no-one would help them.
I was paranoid that the same thing would happen to me. Around the end of January 2018, I ended up having a mental breakdown and for the next four months or so, my mental health was dodgy as fuck. Grades once again slipped, I started having more and more panic attacks and my relationships with classmates all but failed. I knew that most of the students were very outgoing and had part-time jobs or travelled a lot. I was so far out of my league.
The good news was that I applied to five universities in total and got an offer for a place at all five. The last one to reply to me, was the one I wanted to go to the most. I was eating a slice of pizza at the time when I got the email from them, to say that I had got in. I dropped the slice and ran screaming down the stairs to my parents. It was a perfect early Christmas present. Of course, there was one condition. I had to successfully finish my course and pass with the correct grades.
Towards the end, I felt very low. At one stage, I reached out to a helpline and asked for advice over how to control my low moods. Being on the phone and talking to a complete stranger, letting them know just how numb and empty I felt broke my heart. They wanted me to call back, get the number to get someone to come and be by my side. But I just couldn't do it. I felt like such a timewaster and a loser and just... lots of other things that I can't bring myself to think about.
By the end of my course, I was starting to realise that I was going to slightly miss my grades. I was getting extensions most of the time, as I started to feel more and more overwhelmed. My family tried to help, but I knew that all of this was happening because of me and my depressed mind. I just couldn't seem to do anything right. I was mortified.
Finally, the last day of my course arrived and my marks got added up together. The shock hit me when after checking my work, I realised that my place at my first choice Uni was all mine. I was going to University in September! I called my Mum in a fit of excitement and we cried together over the phone. However, the finishing course meal was an event that I was too shy to go to. I really wanted to be done and move on from the emotional traumas of the last eight months.
I didn't go to the course meal and to be honest, I don't really regret that. What I was starting to regret however, was finishing up my course on bad terms. I cut off contact with some of the teachers and students, I didn't like it when anyone bought up facts or real-life Uni stories. I didn't want to confirm my place right away, because I still wasn't sure.
On the week of my 20th birthday holiday, I remember sitting at the beach and staring out towards the open ocean. Parents were away somewhere in the distance and my boyfriend was next to me. Although I talked to him, my mind drifted back and forth towards the degree. I wasn't sure if I could mentally put myself through it. I had been a failed student on so many occasions that I knew in the back of my head and bottom of my heart, that I could still end up failing.
A few days before the normal a-level results were revealed, my decision was made. My family and boyfriend wanted me to give Uni life a try. My goal was to graduate and become a professional librarian. But to do that, I needed a degree from somewhere. I could either drop my dream career or walk closer towards it. I had to go for it, I would never get this chance again. Everything that I'd always known was now on the line.
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