Ugly crying.

For a blissful but short period of my life I believed that I was free of my father's hold on me. I finally overcame my immense hulk-like anger and hatred towards him and simply became indifferent. For a while he could not hurt me, because I did not care. It is the unfortunate truth that this freedom has finally ended.

I have a half-sister, whom I love. She is 10 years old as of this April and is the sole reason that I stay in touch with my father. We have been writing letters contentedly to one another for years now, and our relationship has been entirely separate from my relationship with my dad.

Until now.

My father has decided to give me an all-or-nothing ultimatum. I must be part of his family's life completely, putting in maximum effort and making every attempt to make this broken father-daughter relationship work again, or he will cease contact with me immediately and include my half-sister in that.

Part of me is willing to accept this, because upon starting University I had hoped for a fresh start in all areas of my life. I decided to make more effort with my dad's family for my half sister's sake. By this point my father had decided to actively ignore my every attempt to contact him, so reconnecting for the restart didn't go so well. Nevertheless, I persisted with these attempts until the 26th April this year.

That was the day when I phoned their house to ask if my sister wanted me to visit for her birthday. I had been hoping my father wouldn't answer, so naturally he did. What ensued was a long and exhausting argument after which I was under the impression that I no longer had a father, as he 'couldn't be bothered' with me and all my 'crap' any more. That time he left my sister out of it.

So I gave up on my hopes of restarting the relationship and focussed instead on being a better sister.

I had not heard from my father since the 26th April until he messaged me this week to ask if I wanted anything in particular for my birthday. I replied that I was surprised by the offer given he'd basically disowned me, but that in any case there was nothing I couldn't treat myself to and that I would prefer it if he spent the money doing something nice with my sister instead.

On replying he basically ignored that request and had a massive rant at me about, in essence, me being a selfish shitty daughter and issued the ultimatum. When I had finished being angry and ugly crying about the messages, I realised that it was actually quite funny because dad was offering me exactly what I wanted (to try again with his family) as if I didn't want it. So I told him this, and said that yes of course I would like that, sounds great to me.

I do not believe that my father really wants to fix our relationship. He will find any excuse to fault me and cite this fault as an obstruction to the relationship. And alas he did, in the messages that followed a few days after my agreement. More stupid claims about me, on whom he thinks himself an expert when he is not. He cited many situations from the past, which he likes to complain about on repeat regardless of my response. In essence though the summary is the same. Ultimatum intact, I'm a shitty daughter, yada yada yada, will write to me but will cease use of Facebook messaging (which he claimed was the only way of contacting me these days despite the fact that I was the one who texted, called, and emailed as well as Facebook messaging him when he was busy ignoring me).

So I'm hopeful that when he writes to me the chance to try again will still stand, for my sister's sake.

I will be clear with you here. I do not want a relationship with my father. I would have ceased contact with him years ago if I did not have a sister to think about. It is for my sister's sake that I will try again if the offer still stands. It is for her sake that I am hopeful.

My worry is that losing my sister to his grip is inevitable. We may try again, but after a while he will decide that it has not worked and he will decide to cease contact between me and his family.

Regardless of the chance to restart, I worry that I am facing an inevitable forced cease of contact between myself and my sister.

The worst part is that he won't ever tell her the truth, because he can never be the bad guy. He will tell her that I chose to stop writing to her and seeing her. He will not tell her that he is ripping up every letter I send her (because I will always write to her, even against his wishes in futile hope that I will somehow get one past my dad). He will not tell her that he is forcing us apart.

For a moment, I hoped that I finally had a chance. Then I remembered who I was talking to and realised that I was facing the inevitable, I just seem to have a choice about the distance of this inevitability.

It is because of my father that I have been ugly crying frequently in this week before my 19th birthday. It is because of all the shit like this that he chooses to throw at me just when I think I'm doing okay that I cannot go a day without crying. That I cried today in town because all this is ever present in my mind, making me vulnerable to bouts of tears at any given time.

It is because of him that I am in constant pain all over again, just like 5 years ago when I had to have counselling because of him. Because I was afraid of my own father. Because I had grown up too fast to compensate for his refusing to play the adult. Because he made me feel like I was never good enough for him because it was so beneath him to utter that he was proud of me.

And do you know what?

When I told my father that I'd had counselling because of him, he didn't care. He didn't even react. My father quite simply did not give a shit about the damage he had caused me.

And I still struggle to believe that I will ever be good enough for anyone or anything, because I know in my heart that I will never be good enough for him.

For some reason that still matters.

A Sudden Tearfulness for the Men in my Life

I was reading a rather good book while listening to music today when the voice of one of my favourite men in the world graced my ears. Immediately, I felt a sudden tearfulness. I was not feeling sad. I was feeling extraordinarily grateful.

I realised, then and there, that in this so far brief life I have been surrounded by men of astonishing calibre. Not only in the form my brothers, who you all know I adore as incredible men, but also in the form of several male friends.

There is one man whom I have known longer than I have known my own half-sister, and whom has been a constant rock in my life. David. We have been calling each other brother and sister for longer than I can remember and it is a claim on him that I cling to. We have helped each other through different kinds of pain and taught each other how to enjoy the little things again. He has suffered far more than any person should be allowed to suffer in a lifetime and he has not even reached 20. This is a fact which angers me as much as it baffles me, and it baffles me because he remains an incredibly strong, kind and genuine individual. He is also entirely content to sit in a darkened room and play Tombraider (or some other video game that I am even worse at) with me, an event which I am so excited to be happening tomorrow evening. I miss him and I absolutely cannot wait to see him.

Another wonderful rock-man in my life is Lachlan. We also helped each other through pain, although we were suffering from the same mental illnesses, and sometimes I feel quite sure that we would have not survived to the ripe old age of 19 without each other's companionship and support. After getting through all that shit, he is now doing pretty darn well for himself and just finished his first year at Oxford! He still calls me when he needs me, and makes sure I know I can do the same. But I think he is doing okay. He is looking after himself and everyone else, still that kind and generous gentleman that I've always known. When he surfs, he becomes some inhuman astonishing sea creature that flies across the water and comes home sopping wet and utterly delighted with himself. You have no idea how endearing that it to see.

As much as I will always say that William saved my life, or at least convinced me that there was hope, I have come to realise that these other extraordinary men had been keeping me alive for years before he came along.

During my first year at University I met a wonderful crazy guy called Sam, my closest Keele girl's boyfriend. He is mad, loud and occasionally a little too much for little me. He is super intelligent and super kind. He also learned to read me like an open book rather quickly, and because of that ability has helped me buck up my ideas and set me on the right path. He looks out for me, as well as everyone else. I have so many reasons to be grateful for his presence in my life this year. Not only is he doing a medical degree at Keele, but he also created and runs Keele Samba band (he is a super talented percussionist who played 'Bumblebee' on the xylophone blindfolded. Be impressed.), has his own charity and frequents Africa to check up on the progress his charity is making there, and loves his gorgeous girlfriend Rachel like nothing else in the world. If that doesn't read as incredible calibre than what does?

George. Although we broke up this year, it was not with any bad feelings or constant faults. He is more intelligent than he realises, and I do believe that he will one day be the star of the gaming industry. His mind, his imagination, is incredible. I always wished I could see it. And despite this talent amongst his many others, he is always modest and was an utter gentleman to me.

Ian is just something else. Like, how is that guy human? His passion for education, nature and the good things in life taught me the true value of them. He is cheeky in an intelligent and endearing way that I love, and inexpressibly kind. I wish I'd had way more time to get to know him.

Pete, my brothers' dad, has always treated me like his own daughter. I cannot express to you how amazing that felt when I was having such trouble with my real father. He makes me feel like my opinion is valued, like I am as a person valued. Unlike my own father, he has never resented my mother and it is testament to his enormous capacity of love that he has completely forgiven my father. He prays for him. He's also super talented and a total bookworm, which I enjoy greatly.

William, my gorgeous best friend. A talented, kind and incredible young man. He completes me, and he knows exactly how to make everything right again. Super talented, super modest. It is a continual bafflement to me that he has not been snapped up by a very lucky girl. I look forward to spending my old lady days sat next to my best friend and his family (he has already told me that I will be Godmother to his children, although I'll claim the title of Auntie), reminiscing about past adventures that are currently still under construction. I marvel at his kind and incredible heart every day, and I desperately hope that he will be properly happy soon. And also that he will send me the beautiful song that he is writing.

My brothers, of course. Those incredible men with their individual talents and their individual problems who have always, always been better brothers than I could ever have wished for. They protected me as long as possible from my own father, never speaking a word against him in my presence despite the pain that he had caused them. My brothers, those home boys who despite the extensive distance between us have not become distant themselves and still phone home as often as they can. I have a lot to live up to.

Of course there are hundreds of other men in my life who deserve paragraphs upon paragraphs, but these are the men in my life who came to my mind when I cried tears of joy at being so blessed.

Happy days spent with heart-healing people

I had such a good day today, which makes me extra happy because I had a super shitty weekend.

I made it to my bus well on time despite oversleeping, and fitting in today's Insanity workout (which was easier today so I tried harder, think I'm getting the hang of this!).

I spent most of the day with my gorgeous best friend, who is possibly the cutest person ever because the cuteness is so unexpected.
When I told him that my dad had called me selfish and other not-great names he said: "You really are selfish though." Then he smiled very slightly as he finished his sentence: "You're just so kind and generous, you're always giving so you must be selfish." He just knows what to say.
Then there was added cute when he was sad that he couldn't see me on my birthday even though I never expect to see him on the day. When I told him not to worry about it because we had today, he said that it was not the same because he should be there on the day. He has now promised to phone me instead.
I have known this boy for almost 3 years now, and I could not be more grateful to have him in my life. Every time I see him I am able to realise that the things bothering don't matter like I think they do, I laugh properly for a change, and I honestly just feel complete. Best friends are worth the world, because they make your world right again when everything feels topsy turvy.

After saying goodbye to Will I saw two random pre-uni friends in town who were also cute and wanted to meet up and go out for my birthday. It was surprisingly lovely to see them, and I really look forward to meeting up with them soon.

Came home to Ben and Jerry's, and the first skype call with my eldest brother, making this the first time I have seen his face in real time since he came to London two years ago. It was an incredible feeling, and a wonderful end to a wonderful day <3

Today I am especially grateful to the extraordinary people in my life who make me believe that everything really is okay or will be, and who make me believe in better things. I have made it through a relative ton of shit because there are people on this world who are worth making it through for.

I am also endlessly grateful for my mum, who held me yesterday while I ugly-cried about the pain that my father was causing me. She didn't get frustrated or irritated or bored, she just told me that I was loved and stayed next to me until I was done. That is how parenting should be done.

Family

Dear friends,

My family has never really been a traditional one. Sometimes that bothers me, sometimes I absolutely couldn't care less.

As many of you know, I do not really have a relationship with my father. We broke it. My parents may have separated when I was three, but he has always had some kind of presence in my life until this year.

I have two older brothers (12 and 14 years older, to be precise) who had a different father to me, and so are technically my half-brothers. Although I've known of and been able to use this term since childhood I have never used it unless explaining that my brothers and I do not have the same father. To me they have always been my brothers, no matter what technicalities tell me, and to them I have never been anything less than their little sister. My brothers are the greatest men in my life. They helped mum transform what could have been a shitty, confusing childhood into an absolutely wonderful one, and I will be eternally grateful for that.

I do have a younger half-sister, my dad's other daughter, and though I do love her there is a distance between us that has never existed between my brothers and I.

There are words to express what my mother means to me. All I can say is that she is the person that I admire and adore most in this world. My brothers and I would do anything for her, and I desperately hope that I will grow up to be like her.

As such, when I talk about my family I am referring to my wonderful mum and lovely older brothers. Not exactly traditional but I wouldn't want it any other way. I used to dream of having a 'normal family'. I thought that was the answer to everything. I was so, so wrong. Traditional does not necessarily mean perfect, or happy, as I thought it did. Nor does unusual mean unhappy. For me, in fact, it is incredible. I may not have a biologically related father to teach me to ride a bike, protect me from scary people and scary things, and fulfil all of the other traditional father roles, but I don't think I need one. I am lucky to have had three incredibly strong and incredibly kind people raise me. My mother has always been everything I needed her to be and more, taking on both parental roles as well as the role of a friend. As mum never remarried, the only real male role models in my life were my brothers, and they were damn good ones. Even though both of my brothers now live and work abroad they still manage to support me and help me through the shittier days, and I try to do the same for them. I don't need my dad to be my 'protector', because my mum is perfectly capable of doing that, as my brothers are despite the distance between us. Besides that, they've all taught me how to protect myself. I've never needed an official dad, because I have them. Nothing is missing from my life.

On a side note: one thing I absolutely despise is the general assumption that single mothers raise bad kids. Screw that. Throughout my academic career my school grades have never dropped below a B, nor did I ever get into fights or any real trouble at school. I got two A*s at A Level without becoming a total hermit so don't even try to tell me that single mothers can't raise intelligent, kind and well-rounded children. If I'd let my dad's attitude towards my achievements influence the amount of effort I put into my education I would never have worked as hard as I did or achieved such good grades to prove it. My brothers have excelled in their careers, and the eldest is actually the Executive Pastry Chef at Le Bernardin, one of the top restaurants in New York and actually in the world. Not only did she raise us single-handedly since my birth, but mum did that while studying for a University degree and working a job. She is incredible. Of course it is much harder to make a lot of money when you are a single mother raising three children, but money never really mattered to us. So it doesn't matter where you come from, or what anybody else thinks you can achieve because of that, you can achieve your dreams.

What hits me most about my family is how much we care about one another, how lucky I am to have them care so much about me. Despite what my father put them all through they have never let me feel different or unwanted, and they have always protected me from him. They encouraged me to have a relationship with him because they thought it was important. They never once said a bad thing about my father until I did, and even then I know they held back. I find it incredible that they were all able to put aside their own suffering for my sake when in reality they didn't have to. I know that if given the chance, I would now strive to do the same for them. In a way I do, because this time I am protecting them from my dad. We all stand up for one another and support each other through whatever comes our way, as family (biological or not) should. Of course we argue like every other family, but it never lasts long. We are still very close and aren't particularly good at being apart (seriously, we miss each other so much that it is physically painful at times), which I think is a testament to the love shown to and shared with one another from day one. I am thankful every day that I am part of this family, even if I arrived a decade or so late. I would do anything for my family, I have seen already that they will do anything for me.


Mum recently told me about something that Laurie, the eldest, had said to his girlfriend when mum had cancer almost 11 years ago. He said: "If anything happens to my mum Jennifer is coming with me, and if that isn't okay with you then we have no business being together." Thinking about that still brings me to tears.
  
I know that if the sky falls down on me, there's nothing in this world they wouldn't do. If it ever falls down on them, there's nothing in this world I wouldn't do.

This woman makes a damn good point.

It fills me with anger that so few people realise how true this is.

Protests Unheard.

Dear Friends,

I read an article about the march that took place against austerity measures, at which individuals such as Russell Brand spoke against austerity, the government and other major National issues. What hit me most, however, were the comments.

Most of the commentators complained about Brand, which I think was a little unfair. They complained that his time and money could be better spent elsewhere - perhaps he should give a chunk of his money to charity, they suggested. Seems like a fair argument, right? Except giving to a charity, whilst wonderful, would not necessarily benefit the people that he is trying to help. There is no real charity for impoverished Britons. The only institution that could be called a charity for us is the British Government, but they have instead turned their back and angered us into protestation. The commentators also argued that Russell Brand just wanted the publicity, which I think was irrelevant. Regardless of his motives, his involvement is raising awareness of important issues. That should be what matters.

Other commentators called this a 'march of idiots'. That, I think, is possibly the most frustrating of all. It seems that we cannot fight for what we believe in without being told that we are foolish and simply wrong. The cynics in this country outnumber the activists. Everyone is angry, and most people care, but very few are fighting for what they want. Others are too tired to be angry, or too ignorant of the suffering in their own country. But maybe the cynics are right. It doesn't matter how many people protest, nor how hard, those in power do not listen. Fracking is possibly one of the most idiotic ideas so far, but all the protests were ignored and it will go ahead. I dream of the day when people with common sense are given power in this country and retain that common sense.

It's even worse if the protesters are young. Then people talk about 'youth culture', 'lack of experience', and so forth. We can't do anything right. We protested about the raise of tuition fees, peacefully. Then the Liberal Democrats ignored the people who got them into power and changed the main policy that they were voted in for. Thus we learn that when we protest peacefully, although by no means quietly, nothing changes. We also learn, again, that we cannot trust a politician to keep his promises. Then a few of us protest less peacefully, and the whole generation is cast as thugs. At least people noticed that protest. But, did anything change? Of course not. Because more attention was given to the outlet of anger than the reason. We write, we sing, we shout, we scream, we burn. Nothing changes. 

We are ignored because we are young and just 'don't understand', but then by the time we grow up our passion is gone. We are too tired to fight, there are too many other things to do, someone else will do it. How can we ever win in a world where no one listens to the impassioned, especially if they are young, if they are female, or if they are right. No one asks why people are angry, they just ignore or criticise.

The condition of indifference is spreading, taking hold earlier and relinquishing only a few from its grip.


Doing the right thing isn't cool any more. When people ask why I am a vegetarian I almost feel like I have to justify myself. I'm told that I am not a feminist because I want equality and don't hate men. My mother tells me that now is the time to fight for what I believe in, yet the rest of the world tells me that I am too young to make a difference, I have no experience, I know nothing.



I'll tell you what I know. I know how it feels to cry in front of my mentor because we couldn't afford the bus fare, which by the way was £1.70. I know how it feels to sit in an RE class while people slander those on benefits because they don't understand that people can have a job, work hard, and be an important member of society whilst on benefits. I know how it feels to go home and wonder if we have enough food for the week despite those benefits. I know how it feels to believe that my life is worth nothing, my body not worth feeding, because I believed I could do nothing with it. I know how it feels to have nearly not been here, then to be wrenched back to life and have to be taught that I can smile, breathe, and dream. I know how it feels to hear mental illnesses mocked and used as adjectives by my peers. I know how it feels, as does every woman, to walk home alone full of terror with my keys between my fingers because if someone attacks me it will be my fault.

I don't know how it feels to be discriminated against because of my the colour of my skin, my sexuality, my religion or my background. I am lucky in that respect. I still know it isn't fair. As do millions of others who fight for others as well as themselves. The unfortunate part is that there is still something to fight about. Why shouldn't everyone be equal? What is wrong with a world where everything is shared so that no one goes hungry, wherever they live? We live in a world where many people are more shocked by two gay men or women kissing than world hunger.

Things must change. Just because most protests go unheard doesn't mean we shouldn't try. Even though I might not make a difference, I will protest until my throat burns dry and my keyboard is broken. We each have our own talents. If we want to change the world, we have to use those talents to change the world ourselves. God knows nobody else will do it for us.

What is so wrong with love that we must teach hate?

My best friends.

Dear friends,

I have two best friends in this world, and today I was finally reunited with my William! Very, very happy. That kid is just something else. We chatted for a while, he practised his magic tricks on me (very cool, and it seems I am very gullible...) and taught me poker, we got ice cream, and then I finally got to hear him sing again when we met some friends busking and he was asked to join in. He has a lovely voice and they were playing some excellent songs so I had a thoroughly enjoyable time chilling and listening to them in the sun.
I'd missed him so much, and am so glad that distance has not ruined our friendship but strengthened it.
Whilst we were talking today he commented that he 'completes' me, and I realised that he was right. After seeing him I no longer feel like half of a whole.

Now I just need to see Cheryl and I will have been reunited with my best two <3

Desk lamps

http://www.boredpanda.com/exotic-gourd-lamps-by-calabarte/

This is how I imagine the concept of a person 'lighting up your life'.

Everyone is different, so their light would be different, not just the classic IKEA desk lamp's singularly styled gaze. Everyone who ever lit up my life in some way shone their own distinct light pattern on it.

Perhaps the cool effervescent light of a human soul -already glowing in its own pattern - is actually marked, although not marred, by the light patterns of other souls that touched it.

Pretty cool, huh?

Besides all that philosophical crap those lamps really are damn interesting.

The old and the new.

Dear Friends,
(That greeting seems to be becoming a thing. Not yet sure if I like it, but will extend the trial a little further).
Today has seen a few firsts, including first experiences of changed things, and some simple old things/loves.
Firstly, I had my first ever interview today! Muchos excitement, I know. I was surprised to find that I felt more confidence than nervousness (although nerves were definitely present), and I think that's probably a good thing. The interviewer seemed to like it anyway. He was pretty cool and vastly improved the whole experience for both of us by being friendly and honest, and I remain hopeful because he gave me good feedback. All in all, whether or not I actually get the job, a good new experience!
Whilst in town post-interview I went to get my helix piercing changed for a smaller size, and simultaneously met up with an old school friend. It was slightly strange to see an old friend like him under new circumstances, but it was actually quite nice. We were interested in the directions the other had taken, but not over-interested in a way that some old friends can be when you meet for the first time after a year or two and they want to know everything that has happened to you. It was chilled, and it was fine, and I probably wouldn't mind meeting up for a catch up again.
Later in the day, I saw another familiar face in a new situation: George, as a friend. It was a little odd to chat with him without the relationship context, but it was actually (to be honest, surprisingly) nice to see him and talk alone for a little while, as our only communications since breaking up had been a few short text messages. I also saw his parents, which was painful because I absolutely adore them and am still sad to have let go of the privilege of calling them my 'second parents'. But George and I are both okay, neither of us regretting the decision to end the relationship but rather respecting it, and seem to have no negative feelings towards one another.
Since coming home, I have mostly just been continuing to reread The Fault In Our Stars by John Green, which continues to be as brilliant as I remember. Another oldie in a new context. I do understand some of it slightly better than when I read it roughly two years (?) ago, and appreciate the fantastic writing/language even more than I did the first time, which is saying something. I swear to god I have more sticky notes and scraps of paper marking this book than any other book I have ever read. But I can't help myself, because there is at least one delicious sentence on every single page of this wonderful book. I cannot recommend it enough. As I told my mum this evening: such an abundance of pink sticky notes is a sure sign of my love.
I also had a conversation with mum's new lodger this evening, and never before has the statement that 'books recommend people' been more true. The woman loves Shakespeare, and like me mistrusts people who say that they do not read, or do not carry books with them in some form. She studied and later taught English, and just totally understands my book feels. Incredible! Mum sure picks people well.

I am now typing this in bed, and, once I have tired my eyes with reading, will be off to sleep. All this has made for a rather exhausting day. Sleep well, friends. Dream magnificent dreams.

Year One

Dear friends,

My first year at Keele University is at its end, and it truly has been an extraordinary year. I've fallen in love with this place, and the people I have come to know since September. I've loved my lectures, finally being able to solely focus on the subject I love with like-minded people who actually damn well want to be here. I have been in walking distance of a beautiful Hall and its woodlands, alongside the countless coffee shops, bars, and general hubbub of Uni life. It'll be weird to live off campus next year and be further away from it all. I'll miss the woods, but I can't wait to put some distance between myself and drunken students keeping us all up at 4am!

The people that tell you that you find out who your real friends are when you go to university are right, but I am happy to be left with the people who stayed. I have also gained some brilliant friends that I am privileged to have shared this year with. Hopefully I'll see some of them over the summer, although a few of them are slightly further out of reach.

I can't believe how lucky I've been to meet such brilliant friends. Sam and Rachel, my neighbouring couple, are currently chilling with me in Rachel's bed watching Criminal Minds with ice cream, chocolate, the lot. And we do this alllll the time <3 Besides that they are quite simply wonderful crazy friends. Yas is crazy adorable and understanding. Becky and I are on exactly the same wavelength, all the time, and she writes, and is a feminist and luuurves Rocky Horror as much as I do. Shy also writes and is this super cute, crazy little hip hop freak. Danielle is so cute, loud, funny, and always lovely. Ian is on my wavelength in ways other people rarely are. Nick, Charles and Phil are all totally different but equally talented writers whom I have been privileged to know as my colleagues in classes this year. It is amazing to know that during my first year at University I have been surrounded by people who genuinely get me, are super caring, super fun, and just brilliant in their own little ways. They all bring out the best parts of me, and have all changed me (I believe for the better) in little ways.

So things have changed, and I have changed. Sometimes that has been damn painful, but hopefully always for the better.

My relationship with my father basically disintegrated this year, and after so many years of trying to fix it I think its about time we both gave up. I appreciate that he has tried to be a great dad and always stay in contact with me, and that we have had some great times together, but I also know that we cannot keep pretending. We just don't work. We don't get on and I find it hard to believe that we ever will. I will never accept the way he speaks about and treats my mother or my brothers. I will try to forgive but will never forget the pain and anger I see in their eyes when I mention my dad, or when I tell them that we fought again. The pain a person causes your loved ones is something you never stop seeing when you have seen it once, even if you have all tried to forgive and forget for each other's sake. While my dad has never been truly awful to me, he still had a constant, irrevocable ability to make me feel awful about myself, and that is the kind of damaging relationship that needs walking away from.

My relationship with George has also ended, and I am honestly a little nervous to go home and see what life without him is like. It's easier here because George was rarely at Uni with me, but I know that when I go home there will be memories like ghosts haunting every place I knew with him. It's been a long time since I did home life single, and that scares me bit. I think that's when it will hit me and hurt, but for now I am in limbo. I have banned myself from dating until I get back to Uni in October, because I definitely need time to recuperate and figure out who this woman is that I am becoming.

I've changed in many ways as well. I have learned the enormous benefits of taking risks and finally throwing myself into the things that are important to me. I have performed on a goddamned stage with the rest of the dance society, facing my fears and taking on a challenge that I had always fearfully avoided before now. I would never have done that before university. I am more accepting of myself now: I'm aware that my good parts and my flaws are all just part of me; if other people can love me for who I am with all that included, why shouldn't I? I smile more now, at others and at things. Smiling is good, I've found. As are meditation, yoga and walking, all of which help me keep my balance. The confident, adventurous side of myself (a family trait that I always envied my brother for exuding) has definitely come out, and I am continually excited at the prospect of adventure, of novelties, and of exploration.

If my first year at University has taught me anything at all, it has taught me this: I CAN do anything! If I want it and fight for it enough, I just can! How amazing and magical is that?

After all that I've been through, all the people that I have met and that I have loved, all that has happened and all that I have done, I really believe in magic. I believe in magic that comes from sharing your life with extraordinary people, taking risks and noticing the little things as well as the big ones.

The woman that made my tea on Thursday gave me a genuine smile, I have my books, and life will continue to be beautiful, and that is what got me through sitting at the Thursday table alone for the first time since January.

Of course I still have sad days, but I know that those days always pass because this is the kind of sad that just takes time. My friends and my experiences this year make those days a hell of a lot easier to get through, and even the good days are better now.

I will be home with my mum very soon, and I cannot wait for whatever this summer might bring.