Personal: Here's to another one!

You may have noticed I was a bit MIA last week, I only posted twice which isn’t much for me. The reason? Nothing bad, don’t worry! I had two uni deadlines, one on Wednesday and one today. I’m now all handed in and have reached the end of my second year. I could not be more pleased! 

You see, what some of you might not know is that this isn’t my first time as a student. I went to university around 15 years ago in my early 20s. I went to Wolverhampton where I studied Media and Cultural Studies. Sadly I only made it to the beginning of my second year. One early morning I rang my mum in flood of tears and told her I couldn’t do it anymore and wanted to come home. And that is what I did. 

I don’t know how I got to that point, I guess it was a culmination of many things. When I started uni I was coming out of the end of a two year relationship with the man I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with, I was completely heartbroken, but I hid it well behind boozy nights out and lots of man shaped distractions. The pressure of university also triggered a well established eating disorder and I started my usual vicious cycle of starvation and binge eating. I really wasn’t a happy chappy. 

Then, just before I returned for my second year, my Grandad passed away. I’m quite pragmatic about death, the guy was 82, but even so, it was a very sad time, and I think I was more upset about the effect it was having on my Dad. Money was really tight and I got very little help in terms of grants or loans so I took at job in the cash office at a large supermarket. I was working 5 days a week, starting at 6am and finishing at 12pm. I purposefully chose my modules to fit around my work schedule. I was working so I could learn, but I wasn’t learning because I had to work. The work was hard, I was handling £1000’s every day, it required a lot of concentration, and on top of that I was trying to study. 

So there I was, 5.30am on a dark, cold, winter morning. Struggling to haul myself out of bed. Not eating properly, exhausted and by this point, chronically depressed. This was long before my bi-polar diagnosis, so I really didn’t know what was happening. I just knew I hated myself, and my situation and that I felt like someone had a vice grip around my throat. All I could think to do was ring mum, and cry and beg for help. We tried to find a solution, we looked at staying, but money was getting tighter, I tried to transfer to my local uni, but I couldn’t. So I made the decision to come home. 

I don’t really remember much about the months after that. I was depressed. I faced some tough decisions about my finances and I felt very alone. It was hard, but I got through it.

Fast forward to 2013. Having toyed with the idea of returning to uni for many years, I found myself in a position to do so. It kind of worked out as the perfect time. Poppy was starting nursery, we were back in my home town with the support of my parents, Michael had not long gone self-employed so we had some flexibility there. So off I nervously toddled to the open evening and chatted to a couple of people regarding the right course for me. 

To cut a long story short, I ended up on the Professional Writing course, and today as I hand in my final assignment for my second year, with thoughts of my final major project and what the future may hold for me, I feel proud. I feel like I got my second chance. I have worked hard to gain good grades, whilst still being a mum and a wife and a business woman. I am grateful for the support of my husband and family, my wonderful tutors and uni pals. 

I guess what I want to say is that it’s never too late. You can fulfil your dreams and ambitions regardless of age, or past attempts. You deserve the very best in life, and all you have to do is grab it and go with it. You never know what you might achieve.