Lounging in my bed at 9pm embarking upon another season of “Jane The Virgin” whilst I find every excuse possible to distract myself from what I really should be doing, packing, I decided to write a blog. I initially started writing about futile things such as clothes, but another subject plagued my mind.
You see in 2 days, although by the time I’ve edited and published this it’ll likely be less than 24 hours, I am moving house. Okay that makes it sound a lot more exciting than it actually is, I am really moving all of my millions of clothes into a tiny room situated in a student accommodation block in Bath. That’s right ladies and gentlefeathers, this girl’s going to uni!
“Yaaay” I hear you exclaim! And if you’re not then, well, rude. Get the shots going, it’s time to celebrate! Your uni years are the best of your life!
Then answer me this: why I have I never before been so terrified?
Nerves are normal. I get it. But for the past few weeks I’ve hardly slept a wink, constant fears engulfing my brain like an over flowing river bursting its banks. What if I get ill? What if I end up in hospital? What if no one likes me because I’m the ‘sick girl’? What if my body can’t take it?
What if I don’t fit in?
Y’see, being ill is a bit shit. I’ve been talking to a few people and I find myself constantly trying to hide my illness, then the thought of having to tell them fills me with this intoxicating fear that stops me from being able to see straight. I feel like I have to tell them, I mean I owe them the opportunity to walk away right? Always trying to make out like it’s not a big deal so people will stick around. But you know what? It’s a fucking big deal! Not in a way that makes me weird or un trustworthy, just in a way that its existence has completely changed the path of my life, like a tornado ripping through a town changing its entire being forever. I have changed.
The past three years have been, well I hate to be cliché but a rollercoaster.
I’ve had endless heartache, pain, paralysing fear, hospital admissions, fight after fight with my own body to just survive. But I’ve also had some of the most amazing, happy and beautiful moments I could have ever wished for. I made friends. Like real friends for life friends who never once judged me, they always asked how I was and were happy to just sit and listen when things got tough. They celebrated the victories, not matter how small. Like when I went from seeing my consultant bi-weekly to once a month. Or when I went from living off of meal replacement drinks to my first bite of solid food in a year. I’d never quite experienced people who love me for me no matter what my health or status. People who are not just my friends but my family. People who accepted me. People who watched and helped me grow from a scared little girl into an ambitious young woman who has the world at her feet and the determination to take her to the stars. People who I will love and cherish forever (APT I’m talking to you!)
The truth is I’m not just scared to start university because of my illness, I’m scared because of what I’m leaving behind. I’ve never really had friends. Well I’ve had friends, but not friends who have really stuck by me when the going gets tough (bar a few). But in the last three years I’ve gone from feeling worthless, like anyone who sticks around I owe the world to so it doesn’t matter if they walk all over me and make me feel horrific because I deserve it. After all they’ve done me a favour for sticking around and being my “friend”. To realising that I am SO much more than my illness and I am worth so much more than people who only want to be around me for their own ego and attempt at being heroic, so they can say they were friends with “that sick girl”.
Now I’ve finally become comfortable with my life, I’m not as ill as I once was and, for the first time in a long time, I am happy. I’d got into a routine which was comfortable, living in a house that was comfortable, earning money that was comfortable and being with people who I felt comfortable with. Changing that all up when that very comfort is all that you’ve craved for god knows how many years is pretty damn terrifying!
But then I think back to three years ago, lying in a hospital bed in London, crying in the arms of a consultant who by simply saying, “It’s not going to be easy from here on out, but you’re going to be okay” seemed to change the trajectory of my life. I thought maybe my dreams weren’t futile and that maybe, just maybe I will one day have a life again. And who knows, maybe I will be able to go to university after all?
So am I scared? Yes. But I owe it to myself to not back out now, to man the hell up and just go. Change is scary for everyone and change is particularly blood curdlingly terrifying for someone who’s constantly balancing on a line between hospital admission inducing multi organ failure and living. But you know what dear readers? I’ve got this.
Wednesday the 20th of September 2017 marks the end of an era. But also the beginning of a new one which I sure as hell will make worth remembering.
Watch out world, this girls got her fight back.