During the last week of the Easter break, home became just wonderful enough to ensure that leaving it again would be as difficult as ever. I’m back in Cardiff now and until recently, I was feeling very sorry for myself. For the first time this year, I’d had a meltdown and it felt like my fresher self was back to haunt me.

Anyone who knew me in first year, knew my meltdowns were just my way of escaping life when the anxiety became too much to handle. I’ve been far too happy this year to need an escape, but my best guess is I finally needed to burst… I needed to release all the butterflies, probably to make room for the ones that would inevitably come when it was time to meet the last few deadlines and sit my second year exams. Once I was back here, I realised I needed to get a move on whether I was ready to or not. The more sorry for myself I felt, the more time I wasted, the more time I wasted the more rubbish I felt, the more rubbish I felt, the more I missed home and the more I missed home, the more I lost focus. It sounds so silly now, but I came to a holt. With an essay to write and a tonne of revision to plough through, a holt was not where I needed to be.

I had no reason to grumble: Last week was far from awful. The first day back here, I had dinner with the loveliest couple of people and went to a music social where I drank a little too much wine and smiled lots. Half way through the week I caught up with one of my best friends and we escaped life together for a couple of hours of wonderfulness. An amazing friend invited me over on Friday evening and when I arrived, warmed up chocolate cake and served it with banana. She cheered me up more than she knows. The problem was, the rest of the week was spent sat on my bed, staring at the research for my essay and then deciding I wasn’t ready to face it yet, so avoiding it at all costs. If I wasn’t doing that, I was curling up in front of netflix, eating too much and moping. I’ve always known I’m happiest when I’m busy, so why on Earth I didn’t drag myself out of bed and out of the flat I don’t know.

This week already looks so much brighter and not even just because the sun is shining. I finally handed in my last essay yesterday and with nothing but revision to bury myself in, my work seems so much more manageable. The Tesco shop was delivered yesterday and even having hot cross buns in the cupboard makes life that little bit easier. My dad booked the family holiday today and he doesn’t know how much of a difference he’s made to life by just giving me something to be very excited about.

Now, I’m sat on my bed, listening to the radio and revising while smiling like a fool. I’m looking forward to going for curry tonight with some brilliant friends from my course. I’m finally back on the move again. Here’s to staying positive. Sometimes we need to panic and we need to mope and that’s okay, so long as we can put ourselves back together, pick ourselves up and get moving again as soon we’re ready.

Time to conquer life.