Back in 2009 I left the family home in order to strike it out in the "real" world all on my lonesome. It was an emotionally loaded day, despite how hard I tried to play it cool and act like I didn't care I was leaving home. This mostly stemmed from an episode of utter sadness displayed by my little brother a few days earlier. He had started crying, devastated by my impending departure. Seeing him so upset had in turn upset me, which resulted in an explosion of tears.
I had then sworn there would be no more tears, no more sadness. This is what I wanted, after all. University was where "it" was at, whatever "it" may be and I would not embarrass myself in front of my new roommates.
So, kicking around in the back of my mind was the promise to myself that I would not cry. Not even when I saw how badly my room looked (sparse and mouldy with the distinctive smell of disuse). Not even when all my belongings were piled up in the middle of the room (looking forlorn and lonely). Not even when I met my new flatmates, from various floors, and realised how crippling my social awkwardness could be.
No, I would not cry. Instead I focused on what was before me.
I did ponder a lot, on that fateful morning. Mostly my thoughts were "did the halls look this bad when I visited them on the Open Day?" and "is this really worth £95 a week?" Both of the answers to this question were no, but it hardly seemed worth pursuing. We (meaning my Dad) had two flights of stairs to climb in order to deposit my many suitcases and boxes on the floor of my room.
We also had a meeting to attend and we were late enough as it was due to excessive amounts of traffic in the car park, so we rushed off to the introductory lecture on campus. Too busy to really contemplate my fate, I had managed to retain all my tears. I felt badass and grown-up. Things were going the way I wanted them to.
Despite our rushing to the lecture hall where our introductory meeting was to be held, we missed our given timeslot. No problem. It was a gloriously sunny day, unseasonably warm for September and there were free drinks on offer. We sat out in the sun with some cake and orange juice and took in the sights. I spent the time imagining myself rushing about to and from lectures. This was campus and boy did it look cool. I couldn't wait to start.
The happy image burst like the fragile bubble it was when we returned to my bedroom a while later. My parents couldn't stick around as they needed to return to my sister and brother. We'd spent only two-three hours together and I was not ready to see them leave. Other students were going for meals with their parents. I wanted that too!
Instead, I got rejected. Condemned to feed myself on the very first night of studenthood. But no, I was going to hold it together. I was not going to cry! I would be strong and mature. And I might have been, until my father returned from the supermarket with a few last minute purchases.
Dad: Here! I bought you some tissues, just in case you need them.
Me: *looks at tissues and promptly bursts into tears*
Dad: *looking startled* I was only joking.
Mum: Look what you've done.
So, I eventually got the crying out of the way. I felt stupid, yes, and I had been so close to achieving ultimate calm, but I think I needed to let out any upset I might have had at seeing my parents return home without me. I glared at my Dad for his tactless attempt at humour and he hugged me to say sorry. It didn't make up for the fact they were leaving early or that I'd cried, because I bet none of the other students had cried when their parents left them.
My parents assured me they would be visiting soon (within two weeks) with my sister and brother so that they could see where I now lived. It didn't make me feel a lot better, but it did give me something to look forward to.
Eventually the time for them to leave arrived. I watched them drive away from the kitchen window, a wave of sadness and fear washing over me as I released I was well and truly alone now (except for my new roommates). This was not how I imagined my first day of independence going. I thought I would manage some wit and intelligence, making new friends wherever I walked. I was not supposed to be curled up in a foetal position.
I went and made a cup of tea, because tea makes everything better. It is the equivalent of a comfort blanket. You've had a hard day, you make a cup of tea. Your favourite show is cancelled, you make a cup of tea. A member of your family has died, you make a cup of tea.
Your parents have abandoned you, you make a cup of tea. And after that, things didn't seem so bad.
University Days
My university days are well and truly behind me. It's been over a whole year since I finished my dissertation and final exams. I can safely say I have moved on, not just physically but emotionally. The times of pining for the days of past are over too, and I have to say that's a big relief.
When you come out of university, you metaphorically let out a deep sigh. You never thought you would get through to the other end of your third year. You thought the dissertation would chew you up and if that didn't destroy you, then your final exams would. That you made it is a testament to either your nerve or your stubbornness. You spend the first few weeks of freedom relaxing. You deserve it! You made it! Plus, you're all burnt out from the effort. However, once the honeymoon period ends, and the glow of success fades, panic starts to set in.
See, for the first eighteen/twenty-one years of your life, next year was already planned. Loosely, but you knew it would be academic related. You knew you would have classes to attend, coursework to complete, exams to revise for. Other details would be filled in as you went along, but you were guaranteed something to be a part of. Then you finish university and the rest of your life stretches out before you. No longer are you a hundred percent sure of where you will be. Your life is now one long blank page and you need to start filling in the details yourself.
You might get a job straight off the mark. You might go travelling. You might chill out and do a mixture of things at a leisurely pace. However, you will pine for your university days at least once, if not more. You will effectively scream at the sky, "take me back!" as you try to figure out how to navigate adult life.
The first stumbling block hits you around October. You see freshers or your friends or other young people head off to university for the first/second/third time and suddenly realise that THAT ISN'T YOUR LIFE ANYMORE, and you desperately want it to be. You want to go back and be a lazy student. You want to be relaxed again, and not have major, possibly life-wrecking if made incorrectly, decisions to make.
These feelings come and go like waves. Some will be stronger than others and drown you in nostalgia, some will be quiet musings as you go about your day. You'll miss your friends, roommates, coursemates. You'll miss staying up all night long and forgoing sleep as you have a super important lecture to get to at nine in the morning. You'll miss randomly hitting the cinemas, bowling alleys, bars at whatever o'clock (normally stupid) as you're bored and have nothing better to do. You will miss it all and want to go back.
I thought those feelings would never end. I thought I would always miss university the way your parents told you that you'd miss your childhood ("enjoy your school days now, kids, for you'll miss it when it's gone!"). I thought I would always look back and sigh, lost in melancholy. But, I recently discovered I no longer miss being a student. I have effectively moved past the past and am looking forward to the future, to what is next.
I discovered this when I went back to my university town a few weeks ago, to reunite with two of my closest university friends. Staring around the city centre I found that although it wasn't unrecognisable, it didn't look familiar. It looked strange and alien. There had been some aesthetic changes, the roads redone and certain buildings replaced, but even with them the place didn't feel like home, nor did I long for it like I did when I headed back there for my graduation. I spotted students too, now studying at my university, but I felt no jealousy. Sure, it was good to be back there, but I didn't want to stay. I was happy to head home after seeing my friends.
I am glad that those feelings are gone and I hope they stay gone, tucked away so I can remember my student days fondly and without an overwhelming urge to go back and do it again. That's not to say I wouldn't go back to university if I could. I would do it in a heartbeat, but not to repeat my first years as a student. I would do it again to do something new, study something new or even expand upon my first degree.
It's a relief that I've moved on and it feels empowering. I'm looking forward to whatever life has to offer next.
