So long and thanks for all the papercuts

It dawned on me earlier that the MPsych course I started yesterday is about to end.

Oh, did I say yesterday....I meant September!

Seriously, where did that time go?! It literally feels like a matter of weeks ago that

I was working in a job I didn't like, wondering what I was going to do, and suddenly being offered this fantastic opportunity to join a brand new course and study for another year.

We weren't convinced at first, but I couldn't turn it down. I hated that I was offered a place because I knew I had to accept it, but I didn't want to. But boy, am I glad I did!

I didn't realise until my final year as an undergraduate that when you start studying Psychology, you've signed your soul to the devil. The psychology devil. Becoming a Psychologist isn't easy. A BSc, a masters perhaps, and then the ever competitive Doctorate - 6-7 years of training before you're let loose. And baring in mind I was 22 when I started, having already done 4 years of Forensic Science, it seemed like I would be a career student forever.

I hated this year. I really did. I went from lecture halls holding 260 students to classrooms of <10 people. Every class was a seminar. Every lecturer knew my name. Every student knew my face. Everytime I was absent, it was known. It was hard adjusting at first, especially because 3 weeks into the first semester my fiancée was hospitalised and was seriously ill.

 I didn't think I'd make it through. Assessment after assessment, email after email, I hoped for the best and expected the worst. But every time, somehow, I pulled through with a 2:2 or a 2:1. 

I wasn't reaching my potential, but I wasn't failing either.

It wasn't until over halfway into semester 2 that I finally learnt to love the course.

We studied a CBT module, and another in reflective practice. I started a placement at a school for children with special needs, and I suddenly realised why I was putting myself through such stress. I loved it. I 100%, truly, madly, deeply loved learning how to help people, through therapies, educating, or simply by listening. 

I started my dissertation for this year very very late. It's qualitative, not quantitative, so instead of having to collect loads of data (such as last year), I wanted data from only one participant. I wasn't sure how this project would go at first. We had such leeway with what we could do and I picked a supervisor who stood for everything I cared about. And boy, have I loved it. I'm not finished, and it's due next week, so I have plenty to keep me busy with, but I am overwhelmed by the project and I am already so proud that I've bought enough ink and paper to print my own copy to keep forever. As I was writing my acknowledgements it dawned on me just how much this research has changed me.

So here I am, at the starting line of the home stretch, bursting with excitement

at finishing and graduating. At this point I don't care what grade I get. A 2:1 like last year? A 2:2.

Whatever I get, it means nothing. Achievement is my boyfriend kicking GBS' butt and being so strong and determined in his recovery. Achievement is never missing a deadline and always trying as hard as I can to get my work done. Achievement is getting engaged, buying a house, and planning a future. 

And now comes the task of finding work. It's been a challenge, financially, being a student. It's hard to get work because they ask for experience but t get the experience you need to work. Or volunteer. And you can't volunteer when you have bills to pay.
So please cross those fingers and toes, eyes and whatever else you can manage.
The hunt begins :)

  Butfirst I am super excited to walk

down the stage in my cap and gown (again!).

Congrats to all of you who are graduating this year! 

So long, uni, and thanks for all the papercuts.

xo