The Importance of Independence

Scottish Independence has been all over the news recently. Whether or not Scotland should remove itself from the Unions in Great Britain as we know it.

But the independence that I want to talk about today is one free of political intervention, protests and a public vote: our own independence. 

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I thought that I was pretty much independent when I was going through college. I knew that through my life I hadn't had such freedom. Mum had always asked for invitations if I wanted to go to a party - I couldn't go just because someone had told me. There were curfews for sleepovers and I still relied on my parents to pick me up after school activities. 

At college, though I was ferried to and from sixth form on a bus that stopped right outside my house, I felt a bit more in control of myself. I kind of just got on with studying. I felt quite independent but I realised that there was still a little more way to go before I was a proper adult. 

It's funny because, having been at uni has made me realise that I'm more of a child than I ever thought. 

Independence was a bit of a shocker. I've never felt like I've wanted to break away from my family. I've never felt like I've wanted to be alone and do things strictly by myself. I felt independent enough and wasn't ready to metaphorically sever ties.

But going to uni scared me. It appears that too much independence definitely makes you find yourself. I felt alone. Every choice I made was up to me. When did I get up? It didn't matter because it wouldn't affect anyone but me. If I wanted to skip lectures, then who would be on my back? No one, really. If I wanted to eat pot noodle all day every day (and I didn't) then I was free to do so.

Those kinds of menial decisions, however, soon took care of themselves. I went to lectures as a matter of principle, got myself out of bed to make life easier and ate as healthily as I could.

But the real test of my independence was the extra things. The things that didn't have to be done every day. And this was where I became disappointed and frustrated with myself in a way that I never thought I could have.

University has a lot of opportunity - an overwhelming amount, in fact. As we entered the 'bunfight' where all the societies had stalls trying to entice us with 'Ultimate Frisbee', men in teeny tiny speedos and cakes, it was hard to make an informed decision. I saw people saying: "Aw! Yeah sure I'll come to the Quidditch club tryouts!" I wanted to do something cool, as well. I wanted to get myself into a spectacular society.

Moving to England, I had quite forgotten how unappealing being outside can become. When it's raining and cold and windy, home seems so much nicer. I missed most of the tryouts and taster sessions through laziness and reluctance of the cold. I went to a few, like trampolining and became quite interested in Amnesty International society for a while, but I saw people around me solidifying friendships in the clubs that they were joining. They had put themselves out there and now were doing things that they loved.

All my life I had dreamed about: "When I'm older, I'll ..." and now I was older and every dream I had was just waiting for me to say 'yes' and I said: 'Nah I can't be bothered!'

And as clubbing became the highlight of my weeks, I began to question what I was actually doing with my life. I knew that before I could even register it, the year would be over and I would be one step closer to working and one step further away from realising my dreams.

The last term of 1st year I hauled myself into everything I could. I went out with my friends for coffees and ice-cream, went to a few socials that the societies that I had joined were hosting and blogged. I explored Southampton, wrote articles for the newspaper and planned upcoming material, I tried out the free gym classes, went to an AGM and got a position on a committee and ... I had a phenomenal time! The last term of university was my best. I felt like I finally had control of  my life.

For me, my independence could have gone a number of ways. It could most definitely have had me plan to do everything but actually do nothing. I got quite frugal with my money in that first year, wanting to save it all up for nothing in particular. What that meant was that I wasn't actually spending any. In hindsight, it did come in useful because it has given me a head start on my rent for next year which I am very, very happy about, but at the time, it meant that I refused to go out and became, in a sense, greedy and centred around the numbers in my account.

Already, I can see that the mistakes and experiences of the first year have made me more ambitious and determined to do things. It has brought me out of my shell. I'm currently saving to put my money towards useful, practical and fun things: hopefully a 10-week course in German and a solo weekend in Spain. I'm also planning a few more trips around the country to concerts and to the 'Cake and Bake Show' in London which I am super excited about!!

So, in short, I am so so so so SO thankful for my independence, but not because it allowed me to 'run away' from anything or anyone but because it brought me closer to the person at the heart of the matter and gave me more resolve to act upon the opportunities that life has given me. I definitely hope that I manage to do far far more things this year than last and I have challenged myself to write a post at the end of April of 100 things I did between my 19th and 20th birthday! Look out for that one! 

Understanding Aysha's parents' decision

I have been so fortunate in my life to have never been ill. I have, equally, never really known anyone in my family who has been severely ill or who I have seen through their illness. Therefore, I can't really imagine the emotional toll of illness upon a family, but in the absence of experience, I can only try to imagine. 

Aysha is a 5 year old terminally ill child who was receiving medical treatment at Southampton General Hospital. He was permitted to leave the hospital for short periods of time and is dependent on a battery-operated feeding tube. 

A few days ago, his parents took Aysha from the hospital and left the country. Doctors now assume that the battery upon the feeding tube has run out and that, as a result, Aysha will not survive much longer. 

As of yesterday, a warrant was issued for his parents arrest and there is a European manhunt out to find the family of 9. 

As important and life-changing it is that Aysha is found and put back into the care of medical professionals, you can't help but try to understand why Aysha's parents took him away. 

Life in hospital is far from normal. It must put a huge amount of pressure upon families to find strength, to find hope and to believe that everything is alright. Though I imagine that doctors and nurses do have 'training' in person-ability when it comes to the emotional effects of illness, their primary concern is with curing, prolonging or facilitating life. 

A couple of days ago, the family was found in Spain. And now, something more damaging than a European manhunt takes place. 

It absolutely breaks my heart to see Aysha's parents being pushed in the back of a police van on the way to court. It feels cold. As though no one has any concern for how the parents might be feeling. I understand the importance of upholding the law, but these two people are being made into a media spectacle. 

They are being taken away from their son who is ill and needs their support. It's most likely that the trial will only prolong the amount of time that they are unable to spend with their son and put an even larger toll on their emotional well being. 

I realise, however, that these parents risked their child's life. But it wasn't out of malice or because they were cruel. It was, most probably, because they loved him and wanted things to be normal. 

Those winter nights ...

I live in the most amazing city and the most amazing part of it too! I absolutely love it! 

When I began looking for Unis in year 13 I had absolutely no clue where to start. Location, at this point had nothing to do with it. I was living in Dubai and I knew that my family wouldn't be coming back to the UK with me. So I could have gone anywhere with a 7 hour flight or a 3,000 mile distance. It seemed that the University I went to wasn't important either. 

I reckon I'm more of a creative person rather than an academic one. I can get by in exams and coursework but it always seems that no matter how much I do, I never quite make it. I had never been so stressed in my LIFE when I took my A-levels and I still didn't manage to get the grades I thought I was working towards. In a way, working like that, constantly, put me off academic learning for the rest of my life. I wanted to know new things but studying for fun with a £9,000 investment each year didn't seem value for money. 

Still, I poured through a whole manner of degrees from international development (something I would actually have really liked to do) to creative writing - a subject that would have made my dream degree. 

But it's virtually unheard of to do something 'fun' at a Russell Group University. Don't get me wrong; I absolutely love studying English and Spanish and the intellectual factor makes me feel a less than a little girl and more like an adult. But conjugating verbs and writing dissertations that have an indoctrinated style is a far cry from the freelance capacity of a creative writing student. 

When I finally found a degree and selected some unis, one of which - Southampton - was somewhere I'd often visited, I began to half-resent the idea of going back to the UK. 

I enjoyed the sun, but from an English-born-and-bred point of view, it's hard to imagine how frustrating the constant sun can become. There is little respite or inspiration for change. But the more I thought about Southampton, the more I fell in love. The campus was so green and breezing around the lanes just seemed so homely. Something really had clicked. 

I absolutely love the scenery and those gorgeous winter nights. 

And the multi-coloured rhinos :D