I actually feel like a student!

I have been at University for 2 and a half years and finally I feel like a student.
I submitted my essay on Monday. I don’t think it will be any good, but it is in.
I don’t have to worry about it anymore. Yay!
The next one I started on Wednesday, I hope to have it done on Monday. Deadline is Tuesday.
I can do this.
It took me all day yesterday to write one paragraph!
I need to get at least 2 done today.
Instead I am writing this.
But I don’t feel as panicked anymore.
Maybe its the herbal goodness I have been taking.
Maybe it is because I have got into a routine.
I have been going into University everyday and doing my work.
It feels good.
I am actually enjoying it.
It has made me think that perhaps I can do this semester well.
Maybe I can be organised.
Maybe I will start my work early for once and experience the joy of being able to edit an essay. Make it better. Rather than leaving it so late, that I just get the words down and submit something that I will never be proud of!

I feel positive.
Three more days and my deadlines will have passed.
I can start a fresh.

The thought of that is exciting.
The thought of this semester is exciting.
Since starting third year I have been terrified. I may have turned a corner.
I know this won’t last.
My moods seem to fluctuate rapidly.
But if I can maintain this overall positivity, then that is a good start.

now it’s time to start writing.


Time to Blog again.

I need to be more organised.
I am in my last semester of University & I still haven’t got a routine.
I still leave everything to the last minute.
I still cause myself huge amounts of stress and anxiety.

I have a deadline in 2 days time.
I have barely started my essay.
I need to write the majority of it today.
My head feels fuzzy.
I can’t concentrate.
I have been taking herbal pills for anxiety as recommended by my University lecturer, but I don’t know if they are doing anything.
I hope that by writing something here it will put me in a reflective mode for writing an essay.

I have a lot to write about.
To process.
I think from now I will try and set a day every week where I can write something on this blog.
As I’ve said before I enjoy doing it.
It will be a break from uni work, but not a waste of time.
I will be improving my reflective practice!
Which is important.

Although I am at a ridiculous level of stress now, I actually feel like I might be able to make a change this year.
My next deadline is the 14th, so once that is out of the way I will sort myself out.

I am doing one of them jar things. Writing something positive, something funny, something I’ve done, every day – putting it in a box to read on the 1st of Jan next year.
Or maybe just when I need some positivity.

I need to make a start on my essay now.

Oops I did it again….

So that’s another 10 months down the drain.
I am now, yet again, at 1 week self harm free.
It’s frustrating, but I haven’t let it turn into a full blown relapse like before.
I had too much to drink.
I barely even remember it.

But it has pushed me to decide not to drink for a bit.
I actually mean it this time.
Today also marks 1 week alcohol free.
According to my drinks tracker that is the longest I have gone in over a year without a drink.
So some positive has come from this.

My moods have been a bit up and down lately.
I figured that the large amounts of alcohol I have been drinking probably haven’t helped, especially when it results in me waking up having hurt myself again.

So I am taking a break.
From alcohol.
From caffeine.
From staying up stupidly late trying to watch movies.
Just for a little while.
I think it will do my body some good.
And my mind.

Essay Time

My aim was to have my essay finished on the 20th of December.
It is now the 31st and I have almost got to half the word count.
Oh my goodness!
I need to write another 1000 today.
I am going out in about 4 and a half hours.
Take half an hour off to get dressed.
Crap – I need to go to the shop aswel!
Okay, take an hour off.
That gives me 3 and a half hours to write 1000 words.
300 words an hour.
That should be managable.

I just keep getting confused with what I am writing.
What order it should go in.
What is irrelevant.
Am I blabbering too much?
Does it make sense?
Is it any good

I need to stop worrying and just write.
That’s easier said than done.
I wish I’d done this sooner.
I am such an idiot.

Now I’m writing a pointless blog post.
It is so much easier to write here.
It probably doesn’t make sense.
It’s not essay standard.
But it’s easy.
It flows.
No pressure.
No expectations.
No right or wrong.
I like that.

I really do enjoy writing. I know what I have to say is not that interesting. But it feels good to get it out.
I have a diary, that I don’t use anywhere near as much as I would like. That is helpful. I can write anything in there, safe in the knowledge that no one will see it.
Writing here feels different. More freeing in a way. Knowing that what I say is being read (or perhaps not) by others. It feels safe. It feels reassuring. I guess that is what a lot of blogs are about? Some things I find it hard to express to the people I know. Keeping it inside all the time seems to cause a constant whirlpool or emotions and memories in my head. Writing here lets it out. Knowing that someone else might understand, or feel similar, is comforting. Even if someone reads something I write and it might make them think differently or change their opinion on something, would be wonderful. What I write probably doesn’t do that. Does not have enough power. But maybe one day.
A blog is a great tool for reflection. On my degree we have to reflect on everything. Yes  it is useful to reflect on your own, but to get feedback on that reflection from other people – people that don’t know you, people with a whole range of backgrounds, interests and opinions – is fantastic. The opportunities that can arise from something so simple is incredible

Anyway, I am getting too deep on the subject of blogging now and I have an essay to write.
I shall post this blog now, add another meaningless one to the collection!


I went out on Christmas Eve.
I was quite excited, my friends go every year, but I had never been.
They always say it is the best night of the year.

I had planned on not drinking too much.
The 55 units I had consumed the week before, had made me think that perhaps I should cut down.
Besides, I didn’t want a hangover on Christmas day.

So I went out at 6, a bit earlier than usual, and got a ginger beer. I good low percentage drink that I could drag out over a long period of time. Then I get told that we are moving onto the next pub, so I have to drink it straight away! Not such a good start. Even a low percentage drink can hit you, if you drink it quickly!

Then I moved onto wine. We were sharing bottles, so it seemed like the only sensible option.

We move onto the take away, again being sensible, I think if I eat something I won’t get as drunk.
I am doing so well. What a sensible person I am!

Then we get to our final destination!
More wine? Yes, Please.
Still sharing so it won’t be much.
I’ll get the next bottle in.
Oh, you only want a little? That’s okay, I haven’t had much yet tonight, so I’ll just finish the bottle. After all I’m practically sober, having only been drinking for 4 hours.

One of my friends left. On her way out she warns me that there is a broken glass on the floor. Be careful not to tread on it.

Next thing I know I’m dancing with a group of friends.
The glass is everywhere.
I just want a piece.

I bend down to get some.
My friend tells me to put it down.
I must come up with a plan.
I will drop my bag onto the glass, then pick it up together. No one will notice – my slightly drunken self tells me!
I slide it into my bag. That feels better.

My memory is more hazy from here.
I assume I decided I wanted to scratch myself. I don’t know why.
I excuse myself to go to the toilet. One of my friends wants to come with me. We go in the same cubicle. I am sat on the toilet, she is facing the wall. I get my glass out a lightly scratch my arm, nothing serious. I look up and she is staring at me.
I drop it, make a joke, laugh, promise it won’t happen again (possibly, like I said my memory is hazy).

We go back out to dance.
I don’t know what happens next. I can’t remember how long we were there. I am confused.
Then another of my friends is asking me why I picked up the glass.
She thought I didn’t do that anymore.
I tell her I don’t – because I don’t.

She looks upset, we go to talk.
She tells me she blames herself for my self harm, all those years ago.
She wishes she had helped me more.
I try to explain, it was no ones fault. She did help me, more than she’ll ever know.
She tells me I drink too much.
She suggests I replaced the self harm with drinking.
This hits a nerve.
I cry, I tell her not to say that.
I have heard it before.
It is not true.

We go back to her house to talk some more.
I don’t want her to blame herself.
I want to explain.
I want her to understand.

“So if you have stopped, why did you pick up the glass?”
I try to explain the even though I have stopped, when I see something, like glass, it still triggers something within me. I don’t want to do it. It’s just the possibility.
I think she’s finding it difficult to grasp the concept.
“Imagine someone has been smoking for years. It is difficult for them to give it up, but they do. Then even when the don’t smoke, they’ll still have days when they want to, even though most days they don’t. If they saw a cigarette, they might not want to smoke it, but it would still be a cigarette, still something that they could smoke if they wanted”.
“So you are saying it is an addiction.”

Black Out

I have spoken a bit about drinking before in a previous post.
About how sometimes I drink to much, then do stupid things and can’t remember anything the next day.

It still happens.
My memory loss is becoming more frequent

Sometimes I forget and then when someone jogs my memory I can vaguely remember.
Sometimes I can remember nothing.

A couple of days ago I went to the pub.
It was open mike night.
I had some wine.
Not too much though.
Last thing I can remember was standing at the bar, watching a band.
Then absolutely NOTHING.
I don’t remember drinking more. Or getting argumentative and loud. I don’t remember being sick. Or talking to my brother on the phone. Twice. When I rang him the second time I couldn’t even remember the first. I don’t remember leaving. I don’t remember how I got home.
I had no idea of any of this, until various people filled me in the next day.

I don’t understand how chunks of my life are just wiped from my memory. I wake up with only a patchwork of the night before. I have to rely on other people to make my memories for me. But there memories are surely different from what mine would have been? everyone’s experience is different. My memories are made from other people’s experience.

Alcohol makes people forget things. It happens to people all the time.
I’m starting to worry, but if it’s “normal” then there is no need.
I guess I will not know until the future if there are long term effects. I doubt it though. I don’t drink that much.