Believing In Myself

BELIEVING IN MYSELF

So the other day I had a pretty spiffing day, dear readers. I went to Liverpool with my sis (£4 return via le train from Manchester oi oi), and I had a fab time cooing at all the gorgeous sights, making mental wish lists of all the pretty clothes I need to buy, and pretending to understand all the art in Tate Liverpool. Trying to figure out the meaning behind a framed black square was admittedly hard, even if an enthusiastic American insisted there was hidden depth to it. We walked round the beautiful docks and we ate our pack-up on a bench, conveniently facing the sea men who happened to be loading a ship and totally knew what we were up to. We got super windswept, but the sky was bright blue and the sun was shining beautifully in the sky. We took lots of pictures. We laughed a lot. We got burgers from Maccys. And when we got back to MCR, we spontaneously decided to buy coconut cream buns from Wong Wong Bakery in Chinatown and watch the brilliant Absolutely Fabulous at the cinema (both these things I would highly recommend). I also happened to get my exam results back from second year of uni, after conveniently forgetting when I was actually supposed to be getting them back. One day I will understand this whole uni thing. One day.

The last few weeks I've put exams to the back of my mind. I'd categorised them as an 'inconvenience that needed doing' before I could finally enjoy a long awaited summer holiday. This last year I've been working so hard and it's all been such a blur, flying by at the speed of light. Out of all my sixteen years of education (cor blimey), this last year has been the hardest year I've ever experienced. There were numerous times when I felt my heart plummet in fear and my body shake with nerves. Many, many times when I instantly decided that I could not do it. A lot of moments when I was afraid I wouldn't even make it to the end of this year. It was a bit of an uphill climb. There was this infamous moment, when I felt a bit like a fly gone splat into a window, and I had to decide whether to sink miserably down or pull myself together and get back out there, carry on, keep going. And there were lots of other times which proved to be a nice steep learning curve too. When they said that uni would be hard, they weren't lying. But that being said, when they said that doing a degree would be rewarding, they weren't lying then either. 

For me, finding out my results for 2nd year in Liverpool of all places, was a bit trippy, a bit like coming full circle, a bit significant, because last time I was in Liverpool I was on placement, and that's when and where I had my biggest wobble as of yet. That was when the 'fly-splat-window' moment occurred. A couple of months into my second year. When I left Liverpool for the last time, I remember how I felt very clearly. It was a bit like a contestant winning X Factor but only just. Only by a very narrow margin. I felt a bit mentally exhausted. I knew I desperately needed to work on my confidence (as always). I wanted to put everything behind me. I wanted to carry on but I didn't know how or if I even could. I was wondering if I deserved to pass. Wondering if I was good enough for the gazillionth time. Feeling like by now I didn't even care. I felt like I'd gotten away with something I shouldn't have. I was wondering if my experience was an indicator that I should stop now before it all got worse. I felt clueless as to what the rest of the year would hold, because I had no idea what I wanted anymore. Did I even want what I was working towards?

It was all a bit naff, and I was very, very relieved when it was all over. And at the time it felt like the end, when in fact, it only just the beginning. Because over this last year I had a few more wobbles, and I still felt a bit like a Bambi skating on ice. But after a while, this weird thing happened. Things began to make sense. Puzzle pieces slotted together. My interest and passion grew. I found topics that really interested me, and the possible future paths they could lead me down reignited my hope. I found things that I was actually good at. The whole concept of uni suddenly made a lot more sense. I started to find a part of myself that I didn't even know existed before. I felt more confident, I felt braver, I felt more able. I changed the way I did things. I worked hard and put in the time and effort. I learnt to swallow the immediate fear and nerves, and keep the quote 'it always seems impossible till it's done' right there in the forefront of my mind. I discovered things in my own time, on my own terms, and I started to understand why I was doing this. Why I was here. Where I want to go. What I want to do. How I'm going to do it. 

Everything changed, and it meant the world because I never, ever thought I could get to that place. I was as sceptical and cynical as you could possibly imagine. I felt like a fraud all the god damn time, like I wasn't even meant to be here, doing this. I kept waiting for someone to blow my cover. Call me out. Tell me what I wanted to hear: that I couldn't do it. Shouldn't do it. It felt like I was feigning passion, feigning interest, feigning everything, that is until I truly discovered it all for myself. And that made me want to fight. Want to carry on. Want to persevere. Changed my perspective. Changed my attitude. Changed me. And when one of my lecturers gave me feedback at the end of the year, saying I had 'excellent potential' (oi oi oi oi oi oi), I was frozen with all those feels. I was poised to explode. I had to write out what she said and stick it to my bedroom wall before I could actually believe what she'd told me. And when the time finally came to open my results, in Liverpool of all places, and after I'd realised that it was actually results day (oh the lolz), I was so nervous you couldn't possibly imagine. For me, it felt a bit like judgement day.

And after a couple of seconds to process, and resisting the urge to Google what the results meant for the gazillionth time (I still can't figure out the uni grading system), I realised with joy and disbelief that I'd passed. And I was so unbelievably proud of my little medley of marks, signifying my strengths and weaknesses. And I was so proud of myself for carrying on and fighting through it all. I was so proud of myself for turning things around. I was so proud of myself  for getting from where I was, that day in Liverpool, to where I am now. It was so special to me. Last time I was in Liverpool, I didn't think I could do it. Fast forward nine months, and I do genuinely believe that I can do it. I am doing it. I'm already half the way there. I'm half way up the up-hill climb and the end goal is getting closer and closer whilst the distance I've travelled gets bigger with every passing day. IT'S BLOODY AMAZING!!!

And I know that things will get harder, and tougher, and I'll probably want to give up a few more times. and I'll think I can't do it a few more times too. But it's magical because I truly believe in myself like I never have done before. I have to believe in myself. I know I can do this. Sure things get iffy and difficult sometimes, and you're convinced it's all over, but you have to keep going. It's the best thing I've ever learnt in my life.You have to find that last bit of hope and perseverance and carry on. Believe in yourself, even if nobody else does, because at some point things turn around. You change. Life changes. The world tips in your favour and suddenly everything and anything is possible. The best things in life don't come easy. It's always an uphill battle to achieve the things that matter most. But it's worth it. Every single step.