So, year 1 of university is officially over and I’m not sure if I am happy or sad about it. I love and hate that place, that course and those people; its complicated, I know.
I hate the anxiety I get walking the halls and going to classes and getting my coffee fixes throughout the day, I hate being asked questions I don’t know how to answer, speaking in front of anyone, meeting deadlines and finding god damn stories that are interesting enough but also original.
However, I love getting out of the house, being productive, being in touch with my creativity and spending time with my friends.
My family expect me to quit this, like I “quit everything” but I just want to do so many things and love so many things it makes it hard to stick to one thing but I’ve also let mental health isolate me enough to leave those other courses I was insanely passionate about, and now it feels like this is my last chance.
This year started with me being confident enough to walk up to a ex veteran homeless man and sit with him, just talking about how the system has failed him, how his friend was found dead in a public toilet from a heroine overdose and how he can’t afford to see his children. It started with me enjoying food and lots of company.
This year has ended with some of the worst self hatred I’ve ever felt, the constant judgement of myself and my body especially. It’s ended with me being afraid to eat one meal a day. This year has ended with me leaving a book signing having a panic attack and crying in the street because I just couldn’t ask a question. It’s ended with a loss of friends and a loss of motivation.
Here’s to hoping I make it to year 2. I think.