Moving back onto campus after two and a half months of being away was a weird experience. For starters, I was moving in with some of the best people on the planet, one of whom I hadn’t seen in four months.
Then, I was moving into a really lovely house, which we’ve made as cosy as you could imagine. Fairy lights are everywhere, and the decorations my friends stuck up for my 20th birthday last week have yet to be taken down.
Campus feels like we never left though. The building works are still going on, leaving brick walls and wiring everywhere, though the uni have compensated by sticking a giant “Marjon” sign around campus, which obviously makes up for it.
I will say that I don’t feel like I’m back at uni. Lectures have started and my assignments have been given out, but everything is different to last year. Maybe it’s because I sort of already doing. Kinda. In a very vague sense.
My anxiety disorder is much less active than last year. I mean, it isn’t really, in that I get flashes of panic about pissing off my wonderful housemates, and that I’m constantly annoying my boyfriend by needing endless reassurance that I’m not as annoying as I think I am, but there’s been no panic attacks so far.
For comparison, this time last year, I’d had about 3 I think.
The most terrifying this is that I can compare how I feel now to how I was in year 12; the place I’d never want to go back to. We’ll see how things go.