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My exam high was short-lived; by the end of the next day I’d been crash-tackled by Depression and found myself in exactly the ditch I was in before my study started up again. If Depression leaving was sudden and surprising, his return was even more so. I still feel winded. 

I’d been thinking of postponing applying for Psychology until the June intake next year, so that the majority of the 18 months it takes to complete the course would fall in 2016, when Mo will be at school and Hazel could start some kind of daycare. I thought the time would fly by, and I’d enjoy having the space to read and write and watch things and relax before June turned up, but the days following my exam went by so slowly and painfully and boringly that waiting until June looked impossible, and I started daydreaming about running away so that I wouldn’t have to feel sad and trapped for a single hour longer.

I approached to The Key-Holder to My Freedom (aka Alan) and beseeched him to consider making some sacrifices to allow me to not want to die quite so much, and he said a half yes, and has half taken some steps to half make it happen. It is half progress, and I’m half relieved by it. I’ve applied for the course. I’ve no idea if I’ll get in, or, if I do, whether I will fail miserably at every subject, at which point The Key-Holder to My Freedom (aka Alan) will roll his eyes and say, possibly only implicitly, “Look at the sacrifice I made so that you could fail miserably!”

I don’t know what I’ll do then.