This year would have been my last year studying at university, and this week, I would have graduated.
I lost the whole of my second year to being mysteriously ill, and spent the year in and out of hospitals, seeing doctors every other week. After all that time, I was finally diagnosed with IBS, (but that is a whole other blog post!) I was told by our main tutor that I would be able to go into my final year but have my marks capped at 40%, which I was more than happy to do. It came around to starting the new semester, I’d been made to pick my new modules, been given my timetable and bought all the books, and happily started all my classes again with my friends who I hadn’t been able to see. And I was happy, I felt like life was looking up.
Until the second week in. I was getting emails asking why I wasn’t attending classes, and was immediately confused. I’d attended every single one, and been doing the work ahead to prepare! The same tutor that told me I could carry on was now telling me that I couldn’t. And my heart sank. I had to repeat second year. I had to join a whole new year, people I had never even seen or met, that all knew each other, and suddenly I was the new kid thrown in the deep end. I suffer from anxiety and depression (again, a whole other blog post!) so for me, this was a huge deal, and I didn’t know if I could do it. Attending lectures was fine, but I avoided seminars like they were the plague. It was a real struggle for me, but no one understood it. Maybe for some people it sounds silly, or like it’s no big deal, but it was the complete opposite to me. Amazingly though, I managed to pass second year, and it was hard. I sufferers with multiple panic attacks towards the exam period, and I honestly thought I was going to fail. Thankfully I didn’t, and it was such a happy relief.
But this week has been emotional. Seeing all my friends graduate, knowing I was supposed to be too, is upsetting. Knowing that I haven’t been able to graduate with my friends from uni who I started the journey with, and not being able to end it with them, knowing I’ll be graduating alone next year, is truly heartbreaking.
Am I being stupid and overthinking things? Probably. But I can’t help that.