Emotional times are ahead, but in order to look at them, we first need to delve into the archives, to evaluate how one has changed over the last few years.
It was the penultimate year of highschool, and a student was coming into the small, but plain foyer, to wait for her support worker. This was normally the start of the day, and the usual routine. Currently, she was due to complete two or 3 pieces of coursework, as well as homework, all on her braille note. Over the last year however, her motivation to study, had dropped, self worth lowered, and failure in almost everything, was on the rise. The downward spiral, was just going on and on. If she thought of going to sixth form, to do ALevels, she was wrong. Her potential was there, it just wasn’t shining through. It was like a dim light bulb, that had previously been lit, but now, dull, and blown out. This was due to the confidence being knocked by people, telling her, she would not amount to much, and that she “couldn’t be bothered”” to put any effort into her work at all. Well, she thought, if they’re saying I cannot be bothered, then, I won’t bother. Why bother. If I try, I get told I’m a know it all, and if I don’t? Well, I get told I’m lazy, and cannot be bothered. It’s a catch22. Almost every subject this young, and bright person, wanted to do for GCSE, was taken away from her. All because they deemed it too stressful and because they did not have, as they claimed, the resources.
GCSE results day was upon her, and she made the call, knowing the results already, before they were given, would be fail, fail, and, fail. To her surprise, she had scraped a B, in French, but the rest, were all very low passes, and one fail. Not surprising then, she could not go to sixth form. Tears streaming down her face, she knew what was to come. Years probably, of nothing. The local colledge, was her next destination, but even that, was not going to help her, but hold her back. Two years of her life, wasted, by doing office administration courses, during which, she would be sat at her desk, dreaming at the time, of going to conservatoire, to study singing. There was just one problem, she did not have the acquired grades, nor subjects. And so, the journey went on. Off to pointless places, for pointless tuition. Until, the RNCB, in Hereford. While her experience there, would not be a pleasant one, and one during which a life changing event would end up with her being diagnosed with epilepsy, there was a person there, who understood her, right from the first day of lectures. That person, was her first personal tutor.
The end of an english lesson, on her first day of lectures; She had been thrown into the middle of term, as she had struggled to get funding to secure her place there. Having to endure fire drills and learn new routes, as well as doing new things for herself, now, there was the test of new food to try, and the fact she was miles from home, at 18 years of age. As her eyes filled with tears, at the end of the lecture, and she tried to control them, she broke, and burst into tears. Noticing this, the lecturer rang through, and immediately another person was on the scene. Introducing themselves, she heard a Liverpool accent, reminding her of home. This made it worse, but better too, as the voice was warm, calming, and a voice, that she knew would understand her. Experiencing a lot of anger for the first time in two years, as well as life changing events, would teach her many lessons, and also teach her something, that would cause her to rethink her career ambition, and question herself..
Friends she would make, and friends she would lose, but one would stand by her always, and to this day, they remain in touch. The event that would make her question her career though, was not the diagnosis of epilepsy, but one of an empathetic kind.
Morning break, and she hears a girl crying; Slowly, and at a discrete distance, she follows her, and stops. Calling her name, she then asks what is wrong. Finally, she is told. The girl was worried about exam pressures. Buying her a cup of coffee, and chocolate, she sits with the girl for a while, and then was told by the girl, she should think of becoming a psychologist.
A year or so later, and she has embarked on an open university degree in psychology with counselling. So far, she is passing with high grades. This unfortunately, was not to last. Level two approached, and she knew this would be hard. Strangely, her motivation for study this year, was low, and ability to process the questions being asked of her, low as well. Why was this? Feeling isolated, and struggling, she cried herself to sleep at night, worrying over her assignment grades, burying herself in the bed covers, and sobbing uncontrollably, when given the blow, that it was a fail. Feeling ashamed of herself, and that she’d let people, including herself down, she was ready for giving up.
But could there possibly be a turning point, another rescuer to pluck her from this stormy sea? Browsing online, she searched for degrees in neuropsychology, her new ambition, and found one, at the University of Central Lancashire. This, was where she was destined. All she had to do now, was apply, hope, then apply for a grant. At least, that’s what she thought.
It was not that easy.
Finally, after receiving an unconditional offer of acceptance, she applied for a grant, but was refused, on the grounds she had studied at the same level previously. In that case, there was only one thing for it, fighting for it herself. That was what she did, and now, has succeeded.
Having gone through the above story. You would now ask yourself, have things changed? The answer, yes. Things have changed for me, in that I will knuckle down, and not let things build, until I get stressed. I will ask for help when I need it. Finally, the chance for me to show who I am, has arrived. For you all, I will do this. I hope you will all follow me.