This photo was taken on my very first trip to Brighton, on a wet and windy weekend in November.
I didn't know where I would end up for my masters, but knew that Brighton would probably be on my list so decided to take a trip and see the city for myself.
It seems like a lifetime ago that I was applying, writing essays about volunteering experiences I had barely begun in my bedroom in my mother's house, dreaming of a life where I could grow into myself once more. I was in recovery, hibernating in an office job that pottered along, slowly healing in a sleepy town on my long bus commute. It took a year to get ready to wake up and face myself again.
Tomorrow is the final day of my first semester. I still have essays to write and a presentation to complete, but I'm on the home stretch. In January I go on placement, finally working in the field I have waited and wished to work in. I'm actually doing this crazy thing I imagined I would, and I am so happy to be here.
It's going so fast! And sometimes so slow. And so fast!
I know this was where I was supposed to be. I know that I needed to go back to school, learn more before diving into such an intense role, join a cohort for support and well deserved nights out.
It takes three years to be qualified. Two years to get my masters, one to train as a newly qualified social worker. Sometimes that feels impossible to achieve, a milestone I can't quite see. But I've done one semester now, sent off my first assignments, (hopefully) know where I am working in January- things are moving forward.
I am still unsure of how long I will live in Brighton. I am not hesitant to build a life here or put down roots. This is not an interim period or a waiting room, this, here, is my life for however long I remain. I already know how much I will miss this time in my life, the space and energy I have here, the busyness of my calendar, full of all the things I have ever wanted to do. I don't want to wish this time away.
One semester down, three to go.
Its a start.
