Going Away to College

I’m leaving for London on Saturday, to start my course at Goldsmiths.  I’m a bundle of feelings: nervous about my course; excited about my course; sad to be leaving; happy that my life is going somewhere.  I’ll make friends that never knew me drunk.  That’s a big deal- it’s a chance to be myself, clean slate, not “Bee who stopped drinking” but just Bee.  I’ll catch up with old friends, friends I haven’t seen in a long time, and I’ll get back into the fold.  I used to think that people who hadn’t seen me at my worst hadn’t seen the “real me” because they didn’t know how unwell I could become.  I am starting to recognise that this is the real me, this new, more confident, more stable version.  I can’t guarantee constant stability.  I can’t even guarantee constant sobriety- it’s just one day at a time.  No- I can’t guarantee anything, and that’s OK.  But I can believe that this self is a self worth knowing, and that people don’t need to have seen me drunk, or depressed, or hypomanic, to know me.  They just need to know me as I am.  That’s enough, that’s OK.  There are people here in the Canterbubble that I will really, really miss, but I need to keep reminding myself that I’m not moving to Australia, or even Switzerland, or even Yorkshire.  I’m moving a train-ride away, and the people in my life want to see me do well for myself, and this course is a chance to really do well for myself.  It’s something I can, and will, do.  I’m looking backwards, I’m looking sideways, I’m looking forwards, I’m moving on.

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