Life is unfair, kill yourself or get over it

Privated last post, I think I have enough comments now.  Few months to decide.  Realistically, I feel I’m going to have to push ahead with this year.  A large part of me just really wants to get started, I spend so much time reading student nurse forums and feeling jealous.  My non-realistic side is saying, “Follow the dream!  The insanely competitive dream!” From people “in the know” (nurses, lecturers), I’ve been very strongly advised to go this year due to intake cuts next year.  So who knows!  Either way I can’t mope and wah about it.  

If I’m being really, painfully (don’t stick the boot in) honest, I just hoped to feel all excited about it all, and I’m not. This is a once in a lifetime thing, really.  After fucking up my education so badly the first time around, I never imagined I’d even get to university. I’d allowed myself to hope I’d get to the place I was so desperate to go to. Then I messed up my interview!  Whoops. If we’re being all psychoanalytically about it, it’s probably because, when I was a teenager, I was desperate to go to study English at Trinity in Dublin.   I even printed out a photo of it and put it on my bedroom wall.  Up there, amongst my ripped wall paper in the room with the broken door and the exposed nails on the floor.  “That’s where I want to be!” I’d say to everyone.  I wanted to tread the same paths as Balthazar B.

I was too mad to, I didn’t even get my A-Levels.   I felt like I let everybody down by not getting to where I was expected to academically. This was my, I guess, Trinity of the Twenties.  Having clawed my way out of being mad and working hard in class, and generally thinking I’d be a bloody good mental health nurse, I allowed myself to get my hopes up too much.  I didn’t feel entitled to a place, I just felt that I’d really bloody appreciate it a lot.  There’s also the background thing- I’m aware that my background makes me want to do very well for myself, to rise as far above where I came from as I can.  Not to distance myself (two pints, a fag and any mention of Iain Paisley will always prove that no matter where I go I’m still a sweary midget from West Belfast), but to prove something to myself.  A silly point, maybe.

And a wee part of me feels like I let everybody down again.    It’s very irrational and silly, I know that.  But I can’t help think of what my dad would say.  He’d say nothing negative of the sort.  Maybe continuing disappointment that I wasn’t the famous writer he imagined I would be one day (Sorry, dad).

But even though I don’t believe in god or heaven I still want to make him proud of me.  My mum hasn’t even asked me about university, I don’t think she even knows I’ve applied.  But I remember her lying to my granda when I moved to London and said I was at Oxford.  I wasn’t, I was living in sin with my boyfriend and working at temp jobs.  She wasn’t proud of me then. Unproud enough to lie about where I was and who I was.   Does she tell the truth now?  I have no idea.

I’d hoped I’d be all happy and celebratory when I got my (the one for now) offer.  I really wanted to be, I tried to be.  I wasn’t, that’s passed, and there it is, all gone.  I think I am just disappointed about that, almost above all else.  I wanted another go at it so I was excited instead of anxious and worried.  I feel tearful sometimes when I think about it all, have actually cried like a knobber. I hope that’s just worry, just normal anxiety at the unknown, not knowing what I’m letting myself in for, not knowing whether I will cope, whether I will do well, whether I will make friends, etc.  Because I wanted to go to King’s so much, I researched the living buggery out of the place.  (Have you gathered, dear readers, that I can be a bit obsessional?)  To some extent, I knew what to expect if I went there.  Where I’d be placed and so on.  So I felt less anxious about it. I was really excited when I was there, I’m just gutted, really. Now I don’t know, all I have is fear!  I’m so scared.

In the meantime I’m emailing people who go to the places I might go to, and tomorrow I’m going to go  back to the campus and have a look around, get another feel.

If it sounds like I’m being too analytical and taking it all very seriously, it’s because I am.  Compare to where I was last year- on benefits and facing a life like that forever, or until I was kicked off them and homeless.  This is a big thing for me, it is scary, and I am scared I’m going to make a bad choice, or that I’m just going to feck it all up!  I don’t even have a job (was supposed to start mid-March, have heard nothing) so god knows what I would actually have done for the next year anyway.  I’m going to walk into central London wearing a sign with, “Will blog and moan for rent and council tax” on it.  What a fail I am!  I’m being oddly blase about that one.  Things usually turn out okay, I do believe that, I do believe things will.

I don’t have my certificates yet, so I may end up with nothing, which would be hilarious and probably richly deserved.

But in short- I think I’m going to go this year.  I want to get started, I think, more than I want anything else.  I want to be a nurse in 3 and a half years, not 4 and half.  It doesn’t matter if I was disappointed, or if I don’t know what to expect and I’m scared.  That’s life, la!

Thanks for the advice, chaps.  I’ll leave it here because I’m boring myself going on about it all now!


14 Responses

  1. 🙂
    It sounds like you’re making the right choice.

    This is pretty pathetic, but I read that bit about your picture of Queen’s with tears in my eyes.

  2. […] here: when I was a teenager, I was desperate to go to study English at Trinity in Dublin. I even printed […]

  3. seaneen, been reading alot, not commenting often.
    Just wanted to say as someone who reads ur blog, im proud of you.
    bloody proud of you!
    Maybe its just the ‘blahs’ getting you down, they do it to me.
    Just take good care of yourself, take babysteps. We are cheering you on.

  4. Be of good cheer! Even when life stinks!

    I just scraped into Oxford, and just scraped a 3rd class degree in English. I’m not too clever, and quite chaotic, but my hero is St Joseph of Cupertino, and my is belief that God knows I am a wally and has work for me to do, as he has for all of us.

    God bless, and fight the good fight!

  5. This is going to sound completely generic and stupid and probably isn’t worth typing…

    But I’m excited for you. and happy for you. and hell, proud of you.

    Since the day I found this blog (I’ve been following… probably over 2 years now?), I’ve believed you were going to eventually figure things out and find some way to share your mind and your passion with the world, something beyond this blog. Not just because you seem sweet and I feel you deserve it, but because you’re smart and funny and determined as hell.

    And then I’ve watched you get little writing gigs, and the radio play happened, and you started with the nursing stuff… and all of it is so amazing. Seriously, amazing.

    And completely unrelated to the above, I know the crushing disappointment of not getting into the university you had set your sights on, because it isn’t just about that one rejection letter, it’s about losing a whole life that you had started to believe you were going to have. My whole life, people told me things about how I’d go to Harvard one day, so I felt like I had let everyone down when every ivy league school outright rejected me. Accepting those rejections meant letting go of an idea of myself that I’d had for a long time, this idea of the brilliant scholar, of blossoming and kicking ass at an elite school, totally making up for my years being the smart kid who couldn’t fit in.

    But boo fucking hoo. I still got into college, spent my first year kind of pouting about how working my ass off in high school got me nowhere. Things worked out though, eventually. And now I’m in a PhD program right along side many of the kids who beat me out for those ivy league admissions.

    You’ve come through a hell of a lot more than I have, and no matter what decision you make about school, you’re going to be great.

    Also… I think “Life is unfair, kill yourself or get over it” is my new motto.

    • Look, I’m balls at replying to lovely comments. I almost always don’t because it feels like belittling the sentiment. But I want to say THANK YOU for this comment. Really, thank you very very much, you have made me smile. And well fucking done! xxxx

    • Also you nailed it with the ideal. I had imagined myself, in that academic setting- I even moved near by. I imagined walking to Maudsley, doing my placements and graduating as a King’s student. It was hard to let that go! Same way I left the English student at Trinity behind though it killed me to do it. Thank you for understanding this. x

  6. Just to let you know, I am cheering you on too… I have been diagnosed in the past with bipolar disorder… and I also know I would love to help others who suffer from mental health issues. I keep wondering about retraining… so God bless, and keep writing!

  7. Sounds like a sensible decision. Good luck with it all! 🙂

  8. Good luck with everything. It sounds to me like you are heading in th eright direction.

  9. Good decision, very mature. Life isn’t fair, and expecting it to be is a common enough mistake, and something I do. You’re absolutely right to make the best of it, and let go of what could have been. Kings maybe wouldn’t have lived up to your expectations, I think.

    The reputation of a university isn’t everything. I didn’t get into medical school (still bitter, ha, not really – as you said, life isn’t fair) and went to a middle-range uni, but enjoyed it a lot – the course was actually good. I did my Masters at a very well-regarded uni (sorry, god that sounds arrogant – I do have a point) and I actually hated it. They didn’t really care much about teaching.

    And these things should definitely be taken seriously.

  10. can we omit the second part f the title please?

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