In, oh, 2008 I applied for uni. I remember looking at lists and lists of places that did politics and having no idea how you ever managed to pick a place to go. A place that you'll live in for at least three years and a place that would be on your CV forever- it's a bit of a beast of a task. My mum didn't go to uni, but she reckoned that you should pick a city that you liked and then sort of go from there. I like Manchester, I really like Manchester. But that's less than two hours away and a LOT of people I went to college with went there, so that was out. I needed a fresh start, more than anything. I needed to be able to go somewhere where I wouldn't recognise anyone, where I could be someone else. I love Liverpool, but I didn't like the uni. I liked... actually, I'll stop there 'cause I like a lot of cities up north, but that was the problem- they were all places I couldn't start afresh.
I don't know how I found the University of Essex, I really don't. It's a good university, especially for politics, but I still can't remember how I found it. But I did and I looked through the course and I loved it. I made my poor mum drive me the million years down for the open day and loved it moremore. I got an interview a few months later and came down again, that time with my dad, and fancied the interviewer and so loved it moremoremore. A good part of my original love for it was because they did an international programme, a year abroad, as part of pretty much any course. It took more UCAS points, but I wanted it so much and I actually ended up with the international programme as my firm choice and the standard as my insurance.
At the last minute (I know I'm telling this like a story, but I didn't blog when all this was going on, so consider it a catch up), I had to defer. I was due to start uni here at the beginning of October 2009, but I got out of hospital at the end of August that year and I was ridiculously ill. So I took a year out, decided at the last minute, and spent the year in and out of hospital, in and out of various therapies. It was horrific, easily the worst year of my life, but I knew it would only be a matter of months until I got to move away and start again. When all my friends were away and I was going through hell, I knew it'd only be a few months until it was my turn. I'd get to go to uni and then I'd get to go even further and have the year away.
But, as ever, it's not worked how it should. When I got out of hospital in October this year, I knew I couldn't go away next year. I wanted to go to America and even if I could get health insurance (obviously a massive 'if'), what if I needed hospitalisation? What then? It's hard enough being so far from home now, when it all goes tits up. I couldn't have done it. Yesterday, about 8 people I know got their international placements, including my (only recently) ex-boyfriend. I'm happy for them, I am. Especially Daryl. But I'm bitter. I hate to admit it, but I'm bitter. I'm not usually the sort to lament the fact that all that happened happened to me, but right now I am and I can't help it.
All I wanted was to get better and then to excel. It sounds a lot, I know, but I worked hard for it and it wasn't enough. I worked fucking hard and went through hell, and it wasn't enough. I wanted to go away and I did all I could so that I could, including that horrible year out, and still I can't. It's childish, but I feel like I'm being punished for crimes of the past- the crimes against me and the acts I did against myself, the behaviours that take so much work to undo, even now. I know nothing that's worth anything comes easy, but they say that if you work hard enough, it can be done. Don't believe that, sometimes it really can't. It sounds miserable to say, and nobody else will say it, but all that shit about hard-work reaping success and believing in yourself is absolute bullshit. Apparently you need either the luck that means you've had shit straightforward, or you need the ability to delete the past. So right now, I'm a bit bitter. I'm angry. I'm hurt. Everything I did, all that work, to nothing. I know you can say it's not nothing, chances are I'll still get the degree, but that's not all it was for me and that's not all I worked for- it's survival versus living. I'm probably still going to get my degree, but it's not about that, it's so much more. It's wanting something so much and working for it so hard and still not getting it, even though you're 100% capable, because of things that happened so long ago- a course marked out and a destiny.
And I'm bitter that it happened to me.