Today, this evening, I sit, no, lie here, on this bed. There have been many times like this; most have been shameful, one of hope, where I await to leave my flat to a new one. This flat that I have lived in over the past 2 months has represented the inadequacy of giving in essays late, of not applying for a PhD, and feeling anxious and unplanned to not plan applying for funding, PhD, or finding a flat to live.
But, perhaps today, perhaps now, perhaps ongoing, that is changing. For you see; I've secured a flat in good time. I've applied for benefits, I have a disability grant coming in, and I am going to apply for the Access to Learning fund. I have shown my PhD proposal to supervisors who say they like it. I have also potentially gotten a publication, I've lost my virginity and have had sex a few times more than a single hand can count.
Last year, (which is soon becoming an outdated referent) in my third year of uni. I was very fat, I was hairy, I ate frozen tinned food, I woke up at 8pm and scoured the city or places that were open, and often I would eat Mackies double cream flavoured ice cream; I ate for comfort, I ate fried, I ate it oily, I ate it crispy, I ate it salty, I ate it cold, I ate it reduced price, I ate it in its wrapping. As I walked I remember a specific walking route, as I walked I felt anger, elation (which was fake), loneliness, bitterness, ugliness, shame, regret, and hate.
This year, I may end with a glimmer of hope, maybe, just maybe, I got a chance of making it.
Back in my undergrad days I used to go home by bus, and I used to listen to a song on my MP3 player or CD player. A song would characterise a soundtrack for me; what was my leaving soundtrack, as I left the city of university, and entered the city of home. What song was mine? I felt awkward as I returned home. A false sense of happiness, a "I'm fine, thanks for asking!" forced sense of joy and contentment covered me. To some extent I hid it even from myself.
Sometimes I hated the days as I looked into the mirror and did not recognise my face. In school we were not allowed to grow facial hair. So, to have a thick beard, and long hair was to see a face I could not know. I was jealous. Why didn't it go like I imagined; having friends at halls, going to clubs, getting drunk, having sex, meeting girls, having girlfriends, getting a driving license, getting a car, working in a pub and being cool. Having 'home friends' and 'uni friends' instead of pretending to have uni friends and those people at uni who resembled friends, pretend you were the person who existed out of date a year ago, who hadn't moved on emotionally or otherwise.
Those days are in the past. Those days are over. In a way, they used to bring me great shame. That was what I dealed with when I talked to Marie. But, now, I am moving on. Slowly, but surely. Sometimes I feel there isn't any point, isn't any point in sending an email, filling out a form, getting out of bed, standing up, walking, moving out the door, moving down the corridor, moving out of the entrance of halls, moving down the road, going down the high street, going into the shop , having the courage to talk to the vendor, tell him or her "Hi there I saw a job vacancy and I'd like to hand in a CV" (It took me many times to actually refine that line to such finesse, by the way).
Those undergraduate days are over. I used to feel inadequate because I had no friends around and didn't go clubbing. Now, I feel almost ambivalent or nonchalant about the fact that I have abandoned many of my university friends, and only have a limited circle. In a way, I've hollowed out my social life without me even knowing, preoccupied either with my academic work, my illness, or Marie.
I didn't notice, I didn't see, right now, it doesn't bother me that it happened that way, but maybe one day it will. Maybe one day I will start to see the mistakes and flaws that Marie has. That I will start to see a different person and cease to love her. I think I don't love her, or my feelings have ceased to cause as many triggers or harm or distress. But Antonia is starting to become a little bit of a trigger. What would I rather have? The safer option would perhaps be to have no female interests around me. But any friends?? I don't know.
It would be good to have stability in your life, Marie once said. Given the economy, my illness, my degree subject and finances, I don't think normality is an option. But, a little part of me knows that I'm special.
But, perhaps today, perhaps now, perhaps ongoing, that is changing. For you see; I've secured a flat in good time. I've applied for benefits, I have a disability grant coming in, and I am going to apply for the Access to Learning fund. I have shown my PhD proposal to supervisors who say they like it. I have also potentially gotten a publication, I've lost my virginity and have had sex a few times more than a single hand can count.
Last year, (which is soon becoming an outdated referent) in my third year of uni. I was very fat, I was hairy, I ate frozen tinned food, I woke up at 8pm and scoured the city or places that were open, and often I would eat Mackies double cream flavoured ice cream; I ate for comfort, I ate fried, I ate it oily, I ate it crispy, I ate it salty, I ate it cold, I ate it reduced price, I ate it in its wrapping. As I walked I remember a specific walking route, as I walked I felt anger, elation (which was fake), loneliness, bitterness, ugliness, shame, regret, and hate.
This year, I may end with a glimmer of hope, maybe, just maybe, I got a chance of making it.
Back in my undergrad days I used to go home by bus, and I used to listen to a song on my MP3 player or CD player. A song would characterise a soundtrack for me; what was my leaving soundtrack, as I left the city of university, and entered the city of home. What song was mine? I felt awkward as I returned home. A false sense of happiness, a "I'm fine, thanks for asking!" forced sense of joy and contentment covered me. To some extent I hid it even from myself.
Sometimes I hated the days as I looked into the mirror and did not recognise my face. In school we were not allowed to grow facial hair. So, to have a thick beard, and long hair was to see a face I could not know. I was jealous. Why didn't it go like I imagined; having friends at halls, going to clubs, getting drunk, having sex, meeting girls, having girlfriends, getting a driving license, getting a car, working in a pub and being cool. Having 'home friends' and 'uni friends' instead of pretending to have uni friends and those people at uni who resembled friends, pretend you were the person who existed out of date a year ago, who hadn't moved on emotionally or otherwise.
Those days are in the past. Those days are over. In a way, they used to bring me great shame. That was what I dealed with when I talked to Marie. But, now, I am moving on. Slowly, but surely. Sometimes I feel there isn't any point, isn't any point in sending an email, filling out a form, getting out of bed, standing up, walking, moving out the door, moving down the corridor, moving out of the entrance of halls, moving down the road, going down the high street, going into the shop , having the courage to talk to the vendor, tell him or her "Hi there I saw a job vacancy and I'd like to hand in a CV" (It took me many times to actually refine that line to such finesse, by the way).
Those undergraduate days are over. I used to feel inadequate because I had no friends around and didn't go clubbing. Now, I feel almost ambivalent or nonchalant about the fact that I have abandoned many of my university friends, and only have a limited circle. In a way, I've hollowed out my social life without me even knowing, preoccupied either with my academic work, my illness, or Marie.
I didn't notice, I didn't see, right now, it doesn't bother me that it happened that way, but maybe one day it will. Maybe one day I will start to see the mistakes and flaws that Marie has. That I will start to see a different person and cease to love her. I think I don't love her, or my feelings have ceased to cause as many triggers or harm or distress. But Antonia is starting to become a little bit of a trigger. What would I rather have? The safer option would perhaps be to have no female interests around me. But any friends?? I don't know.
It would be good to have stability in your life, Marie once said. Given the economy, my illness, my degree subject and finances, I don't think normality is an option. But, a little part of me knows that I'm special.
