A monday morning, and the sun is shining brightly over the rooftops of Douglas. A person wakes from her slumber, and comes downstairs, makes breakfast, and has her antiepilepsy meds. Yes, another day begins, but one that is to herald the start of an interesting week, one filled with surprising results, and also, a week, that will change her life completely.
2 hours later, and she is being transported, to a flat in the north of the island, where she will reside for the next week, as a test, to see if she can cope with the stresses, and challenges that independence can bring. Upon arrival, she was met by staff, who explained protocol, and gave her a tour, as well as keyfobs, and the assistance pendant. It was time to go shopping.
After heading down the unfamiliar streets, that had only been walked through once by her rehab officer, they headed down into the supermarket, to buy her weekly goods. Milk, butter, yoghurt, grapes, biscuits, quavers, were a few of the things listed.
They arrived back at the unit, and her support worker, left her. This was the start of the emotional journy, that would bring back many nasty memories, as well as anxieties. Memories of separation, of being left at RNC, for the first time, the dropoffs every term, and the moments she’d hear her nan’s voice, but could not reach her. She was too far away. Hundreds of miles away. Sitting down, after tea on her first night, and a somewhat nerve-racking experience, she burst into tears. The sound of the television, of the buzzing of the lights, of the clock on the wall, ticking monotonously in 4,4 time. 1, 2, 1, 2, like a metronome. At 60 BPM. The sounds from outside her door all too real, and too loud, and too present. People coming and going, keys, doors, televisions, birds, and the wind. The silence, was no silence, not really, but a multitude of noise, ever present, and ever real, but still there somehow, managed to be silence. Somehow, it was there, but even that, was too loud. Trying to facetime her nan, unsuccessfully, she tried and tried, but it kept dropping. After a while, she slowly, and surely, recovered. Pulling herself out of the multitude of noise surrounding her, she walked to the kettle, to make a cup of tea, which she attempted, and achieved, with no accidents.
The first night, she awoke at 12:30 AM with a pounding headache. Water was needed, so she went to get some, and knocked the whole lot back.
if she thought the second day, and the third, would get any easier, she was right. However, on her last, she became agitated, and teary once more. That though, was due to er being nervous, of doing an unknown route, yet again. Tears streaming down her face, in the middle of her rifle shooting competition, she was ready for giving up, but was urdged not too. Almost overwhelmed, she sat, trying to calm herself, but rather unsuccessfully. Finally, she managed, and as well as that, managed to arrive back to the flat.
If this is a taste, of university life, for getting my career at the end, I will sacrifice it. I will make that choice.
I made a good fiew friends, one of whom, I will stay in touch with. It’s been a rather humbling, and at times, testing experience.
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