By and large, the response to my blog "When You Don't Love University" gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling, like weeing in the bath.
It was the first blog I've ever posted that's got over 1000 views! I could take this as ya'll enjoying my troubles or people genuinely relating to it. Thirty two messages later and I'm glad to be fairly sure it's the latter.
My initial fear to even publish the post was eclipsed by the array of emotions that followed once I plucked up the courage to put it out there - both the good and bad. My little heart was warmed by the amount of people saying they had enjoyed reading it, and even that I was "brave" to post it (I am as meek as a Chihuahua at a Lamb of God gig in most wakes of life so this was a very, very big deal for me). If you were one of those people to reach out and respond to my words: thank you. You played an instrumental role in restoring my faith and hope...and I fear that's more than an attempt at being deep. You night have ruined my mascara that day but for the first time ever, I am so glad that you did. I don't even want to punch you for it.
However, whilst I was partially pleased that it wasn't just me who had been figuratively shat on by their expectations, another part was appalled. It was heart breaking to hear that so many people had felt the same way but hadn't told a soul, letting their problems boil up inside of them like some kettle of doom (?). It's almost unnerving how you can never really assume who suffers in silence. To be honest, I would never have expected some of the people I received emails from to do so. Another reminder that we all have our little struggles despite appearances - the real reason we should endeavour to be pleasant and warm towards everybody, I think.
If you are one of those people - or indeed you felt similarly but didn't email me, in which case, why the hell not? Come on, if you read my blog then we're automatically homies - what I'm about to urge you, I want you to hear me loud and clear. Don't hear it as a cliché that's easy for me to say, hard for you to act on - I probably know that better than you do.
TALK TO SOMEBODY. DO YOURSELF A HUGE FAVOUR AND TALK TO SOMEBODY. Do not sit and wallow behind a computer screen, writing melancholy poetry on Tumblr, listening to Scar Tissue far more than a person should in one day. Your problems won't disappear. I know that, too.
Look - famously, I am a big wimp about roughly 75% of my life and if I can face my problems head on, you probably can too. So talk. Talk to your parents, your friends - the ones who won't start telling you how great their life is after you've spilled your emotional guts, lord I know they have the audacity to do that. If you want a non-judgemental ear who really knows their stuff, seek out your university counselling service. Ignore any stigmas of seeing a professional to help you make sense of things; Lily bloody Allen once admitted she's worked with a therapist. And she's a proper ballsy chick.
You could even write about it. That's when it clicked for me. (although be a pal and don't start a blog, eh? I don't wanna compete for who has the better blog, because in my head, that's what it'll somehow morph into. I really don't wanna do that)
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