Miss You Already

Have you ever had this thing where someone doesn’t realise how much they mean to you? Where they’re simply obvious to the impact they’ve had on your life? They just don’t get it, and you feel a bit silly really for feeling the way that you do, but equally, there’s nothing you can do to change that feeling.

Tonight, as a I said goodbye to a girl who I may never see again, this happened. I was trying to pull my ‘I’m perfectly fine’ face, but it must have been pretty obvious that I was fighting back tears. She held me super tight and said goodbye three or four times. But she asked if I was okay. She asked if there was something I needed to say, or something that was bothering me that I wanted to tell her about. I shook my head. What could I do? I couldn’t stand there and say ‘Yes, it’s you. I don’t want to you to go, I’ve no idea how I’m going to manage second year without you. Who will leave me giggling for hours and text me before each and every exam to say good luck?’ I think she was worried about me. She genuinely thought there was something wrong. I just didn’t want to say goodbye. I watched her walk away and as soon as she was out of sight the tears began to slide down my cheeks.

She’s had a massive impact on me in the short time that we’ve been friends. She makes me laugh and smile and it’s fun to be with someone who hasn’t figured out all my little quirks yet and so treats me at face value. It’s fun to have someone to have fun with, and it’s amazing to spend time with someone who loves Guiding just as much as me, and thus is rather similar to me.

I think I may have said before that it was time to say goodbye to someone. Today was that day. We had a mutual event this morning and this afternoon we headed to her house at about 3pm with no real plans but to have fun. We made fudge, watched a movie, walked through the coolest tunnels I’ve ever seen (lights and classical music!), found a geocache and wrote our names together in the book, took the obligatory selfie, and walked into town to eat fish and chips on a bench. It may not have been the meal or night out that we had originally talked about, but it was cool. We talked non stop and had a chance to have fun and most importantly, gossip.

She’s awesome. Anyone who claims that growing up isn’t a requirement of life at all, not even eighteenth birthdays, 21st birthdays, or graduations, is worth sticking around. She’s made me smile so much this year, and my heart is breaking to watch her go. Next year won’t be the same. She won’t be here. The friendship may not have been long, but it has been amazing.

Goodbyes are horrible. This goodbye hurt. In fact, this goodbye hurt nearly as much as the goodbye I said to my best friend last summer. It’s not often you find a good person. It’s not often you find someone who really cares. I may never see her again, and that’s tearing my heart apart. In two years, she may not even remember my name. But I’ll remember hers. She may not realise, but she’s made the last few months so much easier.

I need a hug. The halls are empty, the silence is deafening, and it feels like the tears might fall again.

Goodbye, and thank you. One day, I hope I can be like you. You’re amazing, and I really truly mean that. I wish I could tell you that. I wish I could tell you how good you’ve made me feel recently. But I’m not brave enough, and so the goodbye was simple. It’s done, you’re gone, I miss you already.

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Back to School

There are days (although I’ll admit that they’re becoming less frequent) when I want nothing more than to go back to school. Today is one of those days.

The difference between school and university is that at school, there’s someone who cares. You may not always realise it, but there’s always someone watching out for you, making sure that you’re okay.

It’s not like that at university. To lecturers, your face is lost in the crowds, and when you’re feeling down, it’s all too easy to hide in your room. You can put on a smile when you need to cook, and blame the sleepiness on a hard night out to your friends in lectures. It doesn’t matter that it’s a lie, they’ll go for it. They don’t know you any better. It’s not their fault, I know that. I don’t want them to know that I’m ill, because I don’t like being weak and people fussing over me.

But at the same time, I guess I need someone to notice. Sometimes it makes you feel loved to hear someone ask ‘are you okay?’

And recently, I’m in more pain than I’ve been in for a long time. Some combination of on going problems, a new pill, and iron deficiency has left me in a pit of headaches, sleepiness, nausea, and other grim symptoms. I’m struggling to get out of bed in the morning, and not allowing my eyes to close in lectures is basically impossible. I should see a doctor. But I won’t go again, because he might tell me things that I don’t want to hear.

But I don’t get ill. I pride myself on how little schooling I’ve missed through illness, my ability to persevere and cope, unless I’m literally throwing up in the toilet (which hasn’t happened for years!). But I’m struggling right now.

But nobody knows me well enough. Nobody will check that I’m okay or make me stop for a few days, and so the cycle is endless, the headache is back, and I’m even more behind with work than I was before.

However much I may have hated the fussing over me, the endless questions in flute lessons about how I was coping, or teachers giving me a sympathetic smile after I messed up yet another exam, at least someone knew me. They knew when I wasn’t okay, and they didn’t always have to ask questions. Because I was not just another face in the crowd, I was a human being, and I’d like to think that they truly cared.

There’s some days when I plan what A Levels I could take if I went back, and what I’d do with all my time.

Tomorrow, I’ll probably wake up dreaming of the future, and so grateful that those teachers ever helped me to get where I am. To be who I am. To be studying this course. Tomorrow, I’ll realise that dwelling on the past helps no one.

But I think a part of me will always miss my school days.

Things Happen

Life doesn’t always treat you kindly. In fact, often it can seem like life has it in for you. Life doesn’t want you, and you deserve nothing, because life is evil. Life can leave you broken, torn, and dying. Life can leave you suffocated by pain, and it can seem impossible to escape from the past.

It doesn’t matter though, because the world goes on, no matter if if is with, or without you. It’s taken me a very long time to realise that. You can stop, you can stress, and you can take your time away with tears and worry, but it doesn’t stop anyone else. They will leap ahead of you, and jump the gate. You will be left behind, drifting further and further away, until you are no more. And I wasn’t put on this earth to waste away. I have a bigger purpose than that. I have dreams I want to pursue, places that I want to go, and hopes to strive for.

That’s why love is important. Things happen, people die, children are born, people do wrong, people are hurtful, and people are hurt. But love keeps us grounded, and trust can keep us moving on, one step at a time. It allows us to keep up with the crowds, even if just for a while you have to be dragged along. It may take fifty years, but one day, you’ll realise the power of love and trust. You’ll realise that living in the past is only wasting the world, and you’ll realise that you must move on with your life. Things happen, and you don’t want to miss the happiness and laughter because you are trapped by the chains of pain.

But without love though, you will never be released from those chains. You may love those around you despite your pain, but it’s not until you can realise that someone loves you back, and loves you with every part of their soul, and maybe, just maybe, you deserve that love that you can trust them. Even then, trust can seem scary, but if you can leap over the gate and take that step, love will guide you. Soon, you’ll catch up with the others, you’ll be in sync with the world, and I’m told that it’s a much easier place to be.

And now, I’ve realised that love. I’ve allowed myself to trust. And I’m ready to start climbing the mountain. For now, we both struggle, and we drag each other in dribs and drabs, but if we can get stronger, we can help those around us. If we can achieve our hopes and dreams, we can save lives. You can be a doctor. I can cure cancer. She might save the starving child, and he may keep the heart of the baby kitten beating.

All we need to do is remember that things always happen. The world always turns, so let it happen, let the past be the past, and let’s strive for a better and happier future.

I’m going to help cure cancer.

I guess that I’ve always had an awareness of cancer. From an age much younger than most, I knew what cancer was and how it affected people, and what it did to lives. When I was very young, both my Nana Winnie and Auntie Audrey died from cancer. I don’t remember it much, I was too young to remember anything about Winnie, but I remember Audrey. She lived a few doors down from my nan, and she always spoke to and played with us as kids. She gave me a lot of old coins once, and I think they’re in a pot in my nan’s bedroom now. I still wasn’t old enough to really understand, but I was sad when she died, and I used to sit and count those coins for a long time afterwards.

When I was twelve, a very close family friend who’s the same age as me was diagnosed with bone cancer. It was three years before he finally got the all clear, and even now, three years after that date, he’s still having treatment to try and fuse the bones in his legs. He’s had plaster casts, operations, and metal frames with pins. Even when the cancer has gone, it doesn’t ever go away, really. It still follows you and haunts you and impacts on your life, forever.

Recently, my mum is being tested for cancerous cells, and that worries me a lot. She doesn’t tell me much of what is going on, and I panic about her well being much more than I should. The doctor told me a few months ago when I went to see him about an issue, that although the chances are minute, there’s a chance that even my symptoms could be a sign of cancer. That thought haunts me every day, and it doesn’t go away.

If you’ve got to my age and never known anyone who’s had cancer, you’ve done amazingly well. I don’t know at exactly what point I decided that I wanted to go into cancer research. It was only a couple of years ago that I found out what pharmacology actually was, and then I was dead set that it would be my career. Somewhere in the mess that has been the past few years, I decided that I wanted to go into cancer research. Not once have I wavered from that decision. Especially with my family friend suffering for such a long time and at such a young age, cancer has had a massive impact on my life. I’m so determined to do well in my degree, because I want to make a difference. Of course, one person cannot save the world on their own, but if I can make a positive impact on the lives of others, then I will. I could never ever be a doctor or a nurse, that’s an extremely challenging profession both physically and mentally (oh, I don’t do blood or needles which doesn’t help!), so being a pharmacologist is my way of making a difference.

And then today happened. I found out that one of my ex A Level teachers has a brain tumour. When I heard this news, my panic stress induced freeze attack hit me faster than it ever has before, and I couldn’t control it. I overheated, and I fainted. Luckily, I was sat down and so I didn’t injure myself, but even I was a little shocked. Even now, I’m surprised that I reacted in such a way to the news. After all, she’s only a teacher, right?

Let me take a little side track here, for a second. Bare with me, because hopefully it will allow me to explain. Back in my last year of middle school, I had to give a fifteen minute presentation about my heroes. At the time, I didn’t really have any heroes. In the end, I chose my cousins, my friend suffering from cancer, and a random flautist that I’d never heard of but a quick google search provided me with the answers. I was very much a ‘do it on my own’ kind of person, and I still am now. I didn’t look up to anyone, because I couldn’t see anyone around me that I thought was worth looking up to. Perhaps if I’d have thought a little harder, I’d have come up with a better idea, but I didn’t want to think too hard because the more personal I made it, the more difficult it was going to be to give the presentation. Presentations are hard enough anyway, and make me panic enough anyway without me talking about something personal on top of that! Now, five years on, things are a little different. Although I’d still be horrified by having to give a presentation about my heroes, I’d have some to talk about. I don’t like the word ‘hero’ because it’s glorified. The people that I look up to and want to be like don’t deserve that title. To me, they’re more than ‘just’ heroes. They’re not drawings in a comic book. They’re real people who have made a difference to me. It’s a little difficult to put into words, but the reasons I appreciate them are very personal to me, and a little difficult to explain to the outside world. I guess it doesn’t matter anyway, because my understanding of the word hero is bound to have changed since I was thirteen.

If you haven’t guessed it yet, without revealing the whole list, that teacher is someone who would be on it. To me, she’s not ‘just a teacher’. Her name would be there in a brightly coloured pen with something along the lines of ‘nosy, laughable, caring, and can give a bloody good motivational speech!’ She impacted on my life in my A Level years more than most of you could even imagine. From the first few months of AS when I was dragged to her room in tears by my best friend because A Levels were all just too much, all the way through my grandad’s illness when she excused me from homework (I had NEVER missed a homework deadline in my life – except once when I was eleven. I had done my RE homework, but I just left it at home. I was horrified.), to my A2 mocks when I failed and she offered to give me extra tuition at lunch time, from the times that I arrived late to her lesson to sit on my own in total silence, and she asked no questions, to the hundreds of times that I stood in her room after a lesson staring blankly and on the verge of tears, desperately trying to force myself to say something that I was hiding, weather it be my friend’s eating habits, my state of panic, or something else. I never did say, and I never did tell. Until leavers. I don’t want to talk about leavers, or what happened. It’s a story I’ve told before, it’s a story that tears chunks from my heart, and it’s a story that I try my best not to think about. But what she did that night and the days that followed in order to help me cope was unbelievable. She sat next to me on that coach and held me and hugged me when all I was trying to do was ignore her and push her away, but all I really needed was someone to do exactly what she was doing. She spoke to me the next day, on DofE, to check in, and to give me one of those fabulous motivational speeches. I saw her a few days later and it was just the same. A few months later, she sent me an email and arranged to meet me for coffee in the summer holidays to check on me, to give support, and to give me one final speech before exam results day. She still emails me occasionally now. I knew she hadn’t been in school recently, and I knew she’d been ill.

I didn’t ever dream or expect that she’d have cancer.

It doesn’t matter how educated I am about the disease, what I know, or what I want to be, when there’s someone you care about that gets ill, it hits you. Hard. She may ‘only be a teacher’, but I do care about her, lots. And she cared about me. I’d like to think that she still does care about me. On reflection, I know she’ll be a fighter, and I really hope she’ll be okay. It was a shock when I heard the news. Again, I don’t have the words to describe it, I just hit freeze mode.

The news may have knocked me out today, I may not have revised as hard as I perhaps should have this afternoon.

But four hours after I was told, and on reflection, I know one thing for sure. I’m now even more determined to go into cancer research. I’m determined to do well in these exams, and this degree. I’m determined to be awesome, just like she is, and like she always told me that I was.

Reflecting on 2014

I’m not sure that this is the most sensible idea that I’ve ever had. It’s been a difficult year, a year of hopes and dreams and heartache. But maybe it’s time to try and draw a line under this year, and to move on, to let 2015 be a new year? Or at least, to try to. To actually do so will probably be nearly impossible, but surely there’s no harm in trying, right?

I don’t remember every little in and out of 2014. Lots of it is a blur, except the end of June, leavers. I’ll try to give this post a little structure though, when so many of my posts are not. I’ve decided, that whilst it might make me cry and rip my heart into a thousand pieces, that I should reflect on 2014 month by month, by reading my old blog posts.

First though, I’ll think about NYE last year, the first time I drank alcohol (albeit two glasses of WKD). I sat with my parents and chilled, and whilst didn’t think that I was up to it, I did the complete opposite this year. A meal and night out in town with my friends, I have got a stomach bug I feel awful, and I was also rather nervous about fitting in, and what if I wanted to come home before the taxi was booked? It was fine though. In fact, it was more than fine. I can have fun if only I can let myself relax. Breathe.

January, then, before I career completely off topic. I only wrote three posts in January, the most poignant of which was about parents evening, and failing biology. I wasn’t good at writing down my emotions then, and while I was bricking it, it doesn’t seem too obvious from the post! Maybe I’ve improved a little, then?

February was the result of only two posts, one of which was about my new task to get swimming in an attempt to get fit. I loved the early morning swim sessions with my best friend over the next few months, and I wish that we could have that time together again.

March saw the first time that I ever really wrote about my thoughts on my best friend having an eating disorder, in a post entitled ‘All I think about is food…’ It’s something I’d been worried about for a long long time before, but it was then that I realised exactly how serious it was, and exactly how responsible I was, as the only person who realised this. It was then that it started to kill me and crush me and everything around me got harder and harder until it just became all too much.

April saw a whopping nineteen published posts! While I was slowly finding ways to cope with school and my parents, my best friends eating was ruining me. It was killing me, destroying me, and I wasn’t sleeping at night. The next few months were a haze of pain and support, and it was hard. I’d do it again though, a million times over. I know that in the future, I’ll have to do it again. She’s not okay, and I want her to trust me.

May was the month of my first exam, and I was still consumed by my best friend whilst also struggling with my own problems. I thought about giving up, but I decided that I had to find my voice. I thanked my best friend for helping me out, and for a tiny little while, I let myself ride the wave of happiness.

With exams in full swing, June had me starting to think about moving away to University. Sadly, there was the dreaded leavers dinner, which still makes me feel sick and my stomach flip with guilt. Even though it was the right thing at the time, it didn’t help and I can never ever forgive myself.

DofE, and music tour whipped me up in July, and what happened at leavers escalatedI (although still helped NOTHING!). Summer began, I had some fun, but I still worried endlessly about results day.

August was all about results. I met a teacher for coffee to discuss how things had been since leavers, and I got my results and got in! I still worried about my friend as I realised how bad things still were. I knew that I couldn’t give up, but I still found things hard, and cried an awful lot!

September saw goodbyes and he beginning of University. It was all a bit of a blur, and I guess that there isn’t much more to say than that!

I wrote 28 posts in October, so of course, I don’t have time to reflect on them all. I was finding uni hard and my best friend had stopped eating again, we fought and argued as I struggled to get to grips with the new life. It wasn’t long though before we were friends again, and we’ve been doing amazingly ever since. I knew moving away would be hard, and I think this blip only made us closer, and remember what we’re here for.

I was struggling with doctors tests at the start of November. I was getting mixed need from home too, and it was hard. I wanted to protect my best friend, and I worred again about what would happen if she died. I was counting down until I saw her again, and I was settling into university. I may not have blogged about it much, but i was beginning to feel like I fit in, even if only just a tiny little bit.

And now, it’s the last day of December. The year is over, and it has been long. Very very long. I was very very accidentally late submitting an essay at the start of this month. As the weeks passed though, my thoughts moved to getting home, and reflecting on what I’d learnt in my first semester at university (I love post!). Eventually, I did get home, whoooop! Yey! I survived!

It’s not even an easy year, and writing this has broken my heart and made me want a hug once more. But I wouldn’t take it back and change it, because everything I did was because of someone I loved or something I cared about. That’s important. There was reasons, good reasons for the tears and the pain. There was happy times too, even if not too many, there was enough. That’s not what it’s about though, it’s about support, and learning that we can get through anything, if only there’s someone by our side to hold our hand and help us along the way.

Happy New Year. Here’s to 2015, however good or bad it may be.

I won’t

You always say that I’m pushing you away with my kindness, and recently, I’ve done everything in my power to stop that. I didn’t think that I’d done too badly, to be honest.

Last night, I thought I’d failed again. But did I though? Did I fail? Or was it simply that your anger at someone else was directed at me? Perhaps really, it was you pushing me away, by accident. I don’t want to think about it, and I know that I’ll never be pushed away, so I will take the blame. I will apologise to set things straight, but with a little sleep and my rational brain, I’m not all that sure that it was my fault this time.

I hope that yet again, we can get past this, move on, and go back to the place we were at a couple of days ago, when we were doing so well. I hope that we can hold out without these petty arguments until Christmas, so that we can have coffee and girly gossip.

I only tried to do what I thought was right, last night. That’s the singular only reason. Yes, I want to slap him around the face, too. Boys are idiots.

I hate this. I hate arguments, and I hate silence, because it messes with my brain. It messes with my ability to work, to concentrate. So I just don’t work. And then I’m in an even bigger mess.

It’s a shame, because I’ve nearly finished writing the story that you asked me to tell. I think I’m finally ready to tell it, but I won’t. I won’t if we aren’t a hundred percent solid in our friendship. I won’t, if you can’t forgive me.

Rambling

I’m sure that nearly an hour of emotional texting your flat mate is a fantastic way to recover from an argument you just had with your best friend about emotions, isn’t it? I’m an idiot.

I’m an idiot in so many ways. It’s times like this that I wish that my best friend and I could have a normal friendship. If we had a normal friendship, I wouldn’t make her so catastrophically angry, like I have tonight.

But I have. And it’s done. And now I’m going to do everything in my power to not contact her. I don’t care what the consequences are for me, because I need to give her some space and time. Hopefully it won’t be long before she texts to say ‘How’s it going?’ or ‘Apology accepted’. At the same time I know that I will not be able to do any uni work until she does, and I will cry, and every bone in my body will want to call her and check we’re still friends, I have to give her that space. It’s the lack of space that’s caused this, and I know that contacting her first will probably make this whole thing worse. I’ll probably do it when she’s super busy, and the anger will be back. I can’t risk that mistake. I can’t risk our friendship any more than I already have.

So you know, because she was texting me anyway, I did chat to my flat mate. She’s tried to make me feel better. She has, a little. It doesn’t change the fact that I’ve been crying for over an hour. I’m angry, but I’m only angry at myself.

If and when my best friend does text me, I’m going to make myself a vow. From then on, when there’s a silly but exciting story, or I’m struggling but it’s not life threatening, I’m just going to make a note, and at some point, add it to a letter. She can read letters in her own time. That way, I won’t waste her time. She can leave it a week, a month before she reads it if she doesn’t have the time.

Because I can’t argue. I can’t upset her. I can’t waste her time. Most of all, I can’t ruin her degree for her, and I can’t provide the extra stress.

I hate sleeping like this, I need to apologise. But I have to try. Maybe I will give in, but I have to try.

I’m rambling. I need to turn off the light, rest my head on my pillow, and wish and hope for sleep to wash over me.

I’m Lost Without You

You’ve gone already, and I miss you. You’ve left. I got my results, I didn’t get into Uni, but you did, and you’ve gone, over four hundred miles away. I’m in tears every couple of hours because I miss you so so much! Please come back, please stay in touch. I’m lost without you. I need you here.

Flipping heck, I’ve no idea what has happened today. Results day isn’t even for another two and a half weeks! My best friend’s Uni start date isn’t for another 40 days. My dreams and emotions however, tell me differently. They’re all over the shot.

I know what it is, really. It’s this silly book that I’m reading. By the end of chapter three I knew that the ‘best friend’ was just like mine, and I am just like the main character. Now at the half way point, said ‘best friend’ has to move away, and they’re loosing contact. The character feels like she’s had to give up her friend. Just like me.

It feels like a reflection of my life in a few weeks time, and it makes me feel sick. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell myself that I’ve got tonnes of time with her over the next few weeks, and even if we are moving physically, it won’t change our relationship emotionally, I just want to curl up in a ball and cry.

Because I’m going to miss her. I already miss her, and she hasn’t even left yet. That’s complete madness, because I know that really I’m NOT loosing her!

Living. Laughing. Loving.

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