I've been thinking a lot in the two days since my hand in and it's come down to three things: I am a threefold muddle.
1. Post-Show Blues
If you're any way theatre inclined then you've probably heard of the post-show blues. When you've been in a show and it's come to an end, and there's this empty feeling that lingers for the days and weeks after the final performance. You've been working on it endlessly for the months leading up - rehearsals, run throughs, warm ups etc. - and then suddenly there's nothing and you're just aimlessly wandering around an empty house without direction because, until now, your whole day had been filled with the show. You have a show family that you've seen far more than your own in recent weeks and now you don't get to spend all day every day with them anymore.
I think I have the post-dissertation blues. Now, don't get me wrong because there's a big difference - shows are a buzz that you can't begin to explain if you've never done it, and dissertation writing makes you want to curl up and hide in a hole somewhere for the next century - but in many ways they're the same.
For the last goodness knows how long, I've been getting up in the morning, possibly working out if I have the energy, then driving to uni, spending at least 8 hours there (more like 12 this week) with the same people, then driving home again to spend the evening either working or sleeping, and REPEAT. I like the structure. I've mentioned before about my longing for 9-5 because I need structure, and now I don't have one, which scares me a bit.
Like life after a show, I feel like I need to learn how to fill a day again, because I've basically done nothing else since... who knows? And like after a show, I miss my library family, which is stupid because it's only been two days, but after so many days of seeing the same people all the time, it feels weird being here on my own. I'm not that great with telling people to their faces how grateful I am for them, but it you happen to be reading this, know that I am.
2. Relief
Handing over a year's worth of work is a strange feeling. Happiness to have it done, terror that it's out of my hands now, but mostly relief. It's like a weight off my shoulders (excuse the cliche but it really is, I feel lighter) and it's like letting out the biggest sigh. The thought of my final project being read and marked by someone else and my having to eventually collect the results sends horror through every corner of my body, but it's done now, that's it. I've done all I can and now it's out of my hands.
What I have noticed, though, is that this isn't the same relief I felt at the end of uni last year or in first year, or even after A levels. Then, I could feel relieved and go on to enjoy days of blissful nothingness because I didn't have to do anything until September. There was a plan. Now, for virtually the first time in my life, I have no idea what's going to happen. I've got just over two weeks left of uni and then THAT'S IT. I know for some people that's exciting, the possibilities being endless etc. etc., but I'm not about that life. I like knowing and the fact I don't know scares me. A lot.
3. Pride
The third fold of my muddle is a little different. Now, I'm a very sentimental person and it doesn't take a lot to make me cry (as proven by this last week), and I can honestly remember the first time I cried happy tears, being in year 6 when I was about to leave juniors and go up to the BIG SCHOOL. My teacher, Mrs Squibb, played our class "Proud" by Heather Small. I had never heard the song before and I can remember 11 year old me in my yellow school polo shirt welling up at the lyrics. This is weird, I thought, I'm crying but I'm not sad. How peculiar.
I think the main thing I've been feeling this week is an overwhelming sense of pride for all the I've achieved. Holding the weight of 49 bound pages that I had written in my hands was mad. I can't think of a better word for it. That I wrote all that, me. Little me in my yellow polo shirt, the same little me in the picture frame in my bedroom. I did it.
I think we're afraid to be proud of ourselves sometimes because we don't want to come across as arrogant and big headed, but you've got to be proud of yourself because you are important. I'm proud of myself and I'm proud of my friends. I'm proud of all of us because, regardless of our grades, we've all achieved. I'm sure at some point (probably MANY points) we've all wanted to give up. We've thought we couldn't do it and have considered abandoning it all to become a cat (I certainly have), but we didn't give up.
We did it. I did it. Little me did it.
No comments:
Post a Comment