Two weeks ago i started college.
I want to say i was nervous, but i wasn’t.
I want to say i am worried about where i will go and how far i will get.
But i’m not.
I have either become a self indulged egotist, or i might have actually have learned to be so mindful and at ease with myself, that i can face almost anything. *
The hardest part of walking into the building at the college campus that morning was not the dread of meeting strangers or the work ahead of me, but the flashbacks.
Flashbacks triggered by the sights, sounds and smells of, well…education. The urge to get back on the bus and go home was almost insurmountable.
A lot of horrible things happened to me the last time i was in a building like that.
The last time i was a student.
But lucky for me, Marsha piped up and reminded me of all the good things that happened.
The insanely fun nights in a new city.
My first drunken trolley ride on an A road (sorry mum).
Getting to do what the fuck you wanted with literally no consequences but your own hangover the next morning.
And meeting my boy.
So i didn’t run. I got in the lift to go to meet my new peers.
When the class began that morning, we were all asked to check in with a word that would sum up how we were feeling.
Mine was ‘lucky’.
Lucky because despite bereavements and divorce, mental illness, debt, moving more times than i cant count on one hand and surviving self harm, i was moving on.It didn’t matter what was behind me.
Even more incredible to me was that i had thought this through.
This was not a product of impulsive self abuse, inflicted upon myself to distract from the constant crisis in my head. I had not woken up manic deciding i wanted…no, NEEDED to be a mechanic, or a train driver or a beautician.
I had saved up the money from my part time job to pay for the course myself, instead of getting some dodgy pay day loan.
I had researched long and hard about the best route to go down and if the hours and study time were feasible. Instead of spending ten minutes looking at a prospectus.
I had sorted out part time work and volunteering to help pay for and support my learning.
It was not a pipe dream.
One little motto that will stick with me until i die is the idea that nothing worth having will come easy. And for someone with BPD and a high impulsive behaviour drive, i can reveal this is a difficult motto to live by.
I cannot change my state of mind or make myself better by cutting off my hair, dying it weird colours, self harming, gambling, drinking, or impulsively applying for jobs and degrees i know i would never do well with.
Making a life worth living takes time and effort, the longer the time invested in a goal, the more satisfying and long lasting the buzz of happiness you get from achieving that goal.
* I promise i am not writing this post whilst manic