Before I do anything else, I just want to say that I cannot thank my friends and family enough for their continued love and support in everything I do. It’s what keeps me going on my down days and I couldn’t have made it this far without you. Infinite love to you all. ❤
Now on to the exciting news…
AKJNDKHBDKEBMNJBCK. This is a thing that’s happening in my life. For reals.
In case you can’t see the photo for some reason, it states that I have be accepted to study Spanish, Portuguese and Latin American Studies at the University of Manchester, starting from second year in September. I received an email on Tuesday from the director of the course at Manchester but didn’t want to share anything about it until I’d received confirmation through UCAS. Which I now have and it’s just sinking in that this is a real thing that’s actually taking place. EEP.
I was so overwhelmed/delighted/joyous/frabjous/fucking ecstatic when I received this news that my knees buckled and my friend had to catch me. Which sounds very dramatic and IT WAS because this was an incredibly exciting moment for me. Apparently I looked a little bit crazy because we were walking out of our yoga class and I suddenly exclaimed, ‘Oh mY GOD!!’, whilst reading my phone and then kinda half collapsed. I then proceeded to smile like a loon and do all the movie-style things people do when they get some good news: jumping up and down, twirling around, tears in my eyes, hand-over-mouth muttering of, ‘Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god’… I honestly think that might have been the closest to exploding that I have EVER been (yes that is something that you can measure) because getting to this point has taken so much time and energy and it’s just amazing to finally feel like that’s all paid off.
For those of you that don’t know, before my year out I spent three years studying German and Hispanic Studies at King’s College in London. Then in January of this year I tried to go back part time and give some language classes a try. It didn’t go very well at all and I discovered that I had some serious thinking to do. I don’t know whether London was the trigger or if it was being so far away from home or maybe just being massively out of the loop with London life, but I realised that going back to London in September was becoming less of an option for me. Not to mention the fact that I still had four year abroad essays and two language exams to catch up on.
Deciding to transfer to a university closer to home was not a decision I took lightly, nor was it an easy one to make. London was my first home away from home and so many people I love and care for still live there. But I know that if I were to go back, I would be putting myself at a very high risk of relapsing and that’s just not a risk I’m willing to take. Plus, over the past year I’ve found stability and strength in my life up north, and I’m not quite ready to give that up yet.
The decision to change my course came about whilst considering what I want to do after I finish my studies. Before I decided to take a year out of King’s, my plan was to complete my degree and then apply for a masters in Spanish and Latin American Studies. I figured that seeing as now I know exactly where I want my degree to take me – a luxury I did not have at 19 when I first applied – I might as well head in that direction from the get go. Plus the Portuguese thing is kind of awesome and super fun?! I posted this video on my Facebook wall the other day and it got me a little too excited:
It feels funny that after writing yesterday about being in a down period, I now get to write about the AWESOME NEWS that I received not so long ago. It just goes to show that mental health problems cannot magically be cured and/or controlled by circumstance. You can be low but still feel happiness. This type of happiness is one that I haven’t felt in a while. A type that can only come from the approval and reassurance of other people. When I was told that I was “stable” by my therapist I cried like a baby because I was just as relieved as I was happy. It was all me, I did that. There was nothing that any one else could do that could effect the outcome of my recovery.
However, the admissions people and course directors at Manchester Uni were in control of this one. I had to put my case forward and send a whole host of information over to prove to them that I am a capable student, despite what my grades might suggest – I mean they’re not awful or anything, rather a “mixed bag” due to being unwell throughout the entirety of my studies at KCL. Having someone else tell you that they believe in your abilities to achieve what you want is so powerful, especially when that person is an expert in what they do and has no emotional attachments to you whatsoever.
It’s safe to say that I’m pretty darn pleased with myself. I’ve not really had much chance to celebrate yet except for munching on a forbidden Creme Egg with my bestie (dairy intolerance, schmairy intolerance) and a cheeky glass of red wine with my Grandma last night, but I intend to make a literal song and dance about all this sometime in the near future. I just can’t believe that I’m getting a second chance at this university malarkey. It’s the fresh start in education that I’ve been craving for so long and I can’t wait.
I know I’ve posted this one before but it feels more relevant now than ever before.