Being worn down by sexism.

I am worn down by sexism. I am worn down by the word sexism. I am worn down by the thought of sexism. I am worn down and try not to think about it, because I find it so draining.

Last week I attended an event run by the Centre for Feminist Research in Goldsmiths. The centre is run by my tutor, Sara Ahmed, and runs events in Goldsmiths throughout the year. This event was on sexism, and the speakers all focused on sexism in higher education.

The first speaker talked about a 'bloody document' she has carried with her for 30 years. As a young graduate student, she wrote an essay and her professor covered it in red ink, 'correcting' her 'mistakes'. When I saw each slide, my jaw dropped. I imagine jaws dropped across the room. She is now a professor and head of a department at one of the most prestigious universities in the world. Her old professor is still teaching. She has kept this essay for 30 years. 

Here is the paper she wrote.

I thought,

This feels strange, but I can't think of a time where I faced institutional sexism while at this university.

I thought,

I've never had a lecturer or professor treat me the way this speaker was treated.

I thought,

Maybe it's because in Goldsmiths, I've only been taught by women. And mostly black women. My course classes are very different to what they used to be. There's occasionally one or two men in the classroom. 

I thought,

Queen's wasn't like that. In Queen's I was often the only woman in my class. I was taught almost entirely by white men. I was surrounded by men. I became a feminist killjoy. I was angry, all of the time.

But I still can't think of a time where my tutors or professors sexually harassed me. That feels strange.

But then I thought,

Hang on. 

I have spent a lot of time arguing with Goldsmiths as an institution about being disabled. 

I thought,

I spend a not inconsiderable amount of my time explaining to other students how to navigate disability bureaucracy. 

I thought,

I sat with my friend and the staff member who approves assignment deferrals, as she sat in tears, shaking with anxiety, and he visibly did not care. He did not offer a tissue. There was no empathy in his voice. My friend and I left the meeting and she cried for a while. She was shaking with the ferocity of her sobs. I was furious. I wanted to complain. I was so angry at how she had been treated by a staff member who was responsible for supporting disabled and unwell students. 

I have sat opposite men members of staff who have rolled their eyes at the hysterical angry woman in front of them.

I have sat in the disability room in the library while a male staff member stood over me, making me explain why I was in the room. Why I was allowed to be in the room. In front of a room full of students I didn't know. Afterwards, the shame burned my face and I felt like a child. 

I thought,

This is sexism repackaged and combined with disablism, entwined with racial and class dynamics in the case of my friend's experience. 

After the event, there was a wine reception and I talked with a few of my classmates. I talked about how lucky I felt to have had such incredible teachers during my time here. 

A classmate has taken an elective module with another department, and has had a tough time. She is taught by a man who, within the first two classes, she knew she couldn't stand. She knew it was going to be difficult to get through this term, being taught by him. 

We talked about the way that sexism has worn us down to the point where we think we do not encounter it. 

When we encounter sexism in class, from male classmates, we are exhausted before we put up our hand to tell a man why what he has just done was incredibly sexist. We feel the weight of the response our response will get. And we decide in that moment whether or not we have the energy to respond to the response our responding to sexism will receive. And more often than not, we decide the effort is too great, and we don't put our hand up. 

USI Congress 2013.

Last week I went to Ballinasloe for USI Congress 2013 as part of the QUBSU delegation. We were all student councillors, elected at the start of the year. We weren't elected separately as delegates for the Congress (there is never as much interest within QUBSU about attending USI in comparison to attending NUS-USI), but rather expressed our interest and as councillors were all allowed to attend. This is the first important thing to remember. We weren't elected. Our mandate came from our election as councillors, months ago, in October.

We were warned that we weren't allowed to 'break mandate' at USI- that is, vote on anything/in favour of anything that contradicted live union policy. This wasn't a decision taken by our student council, it wasn't a decision taken by the wider student body. It was taken by the EMC (composed of the seven sabbatical officers and a few of the staff in the union). It was in direct response to USI Congress 2012- a few delegates 'broke mandate' and voted on things that contradicted union policy. They didn't want this to happen again, so they introduced this rule. This rule isn't in our constitution, it isn't in the USI constitution. It was literally decided behind closed doors, without consulting the student council (who would probably have supported it, but that isn't the point). This is the second important thing to remember.

On the first day of Congress, I hadn't planned to speak- I never tend to plan these sorts of things. But a motion came up in the lapsing policy section of Congress, about continuing USI's pro-choice work. This was the motion:

09/WEL 2

ABORTION RIGHTS CAMPAIGN

Congress notes

That USI is mandated to lobby the government and other relevant bodies to develop greater access to abortion services for all women within the state (06/WEL 6 Abortion). 

Congress further notes 

That USI’s involvement in this debate in the past (SPUC vs. Grogan) led to the changing of legislation so that information about abortion could be distributed freely in the state. 

Congress recognises 

That in many student unions abroad and indeed in many organisations worldwide the issue of abortion is viewed as an issue of equality and women’s rights .

Congress further recognises 

That the issue is one of concern for Welfare Officers around the country. 

Congress is disappointed 

By the silence of USI on this issue for the past number of years. 

Congress acknowledges

The establishment of the Safe and Legal (in Ireland) Abortion Rights Campaign which aims to end the hypocrisy of exiling women in crisis pregnancy that choose to have an abortion. The campaign includes various strands, including a litigation strand, a public awareness strand and a national and international advocacy strand.

Congress mandates

The Welfare and Equality Officer to work with the Safe and Legal (in Ireland) Abortion Rights Campaign to once again make this issue a priority for Irish Women.

Congress further mandates 

The Welfare and Equality Officer to raise awareness of the Safe and Legal (in Ireland) Abortion Rights Campaign to USI members and to support the campaign in any of its actions.

(See http://usi.ie/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/usiCLAR-2013-a7-PRINT.pdf for a copy of the 2013 Congress documentation)

I spoke in favour of continuing to work on the issue- I believe it is one of paramount importance. I then voted in favour- it easily passed (though the 'Congress is disappointed' point was removed, as it is to the credit of USI that they have been at the forefront of campaigning for choice in Ireland over the last while). I was told our union President would be having a word with me later on- I'd 'broken mandate'.

Later on, I met the President (who brought the VP Campaigns with him). I was told that the EMC did not want to stop me participating, they did not want to stop me representing students, but if I broke mandate again by voting in favour of something that contradicted QUBSU live policy, I would no longer be a QUBSU delegate at USI Congress 2013. I was surprised, even though we'd be warned about the prospect of this happening. This is the QUBSU stance:

745.6 This Council repeals policy 3.1 on the Policy File.
This Council recognises that the issue of abortion is a highly divisive issue  and a matter for each individual’s conscience. Being desirous of a unified, inclusive Students’ Union this Council mandates to Students’ Union to adopt a position of neutrality in regards to abortion. This Council encourages students with an interest in issues surrounding abortion to express this through the available student societies and external organisations. This Council mandates the Students’ Union to provide a neutral venue for discussions and debates regarding abortion and to assist societies with an interest in the matter in a fair and equitable manner.
Proposer – Caoimhe McNeill
Seconder – Jessica Kirk 

(As an aside, I find it slightly ironic that they were threatening to throw me out for something that they claim is "a matter of each individual's conscience"...)

On the second day, I voted in favour of this motion:

09/WEL 11

CRISIS PREGNANCY AGENCIES

Congress notes 

That there is no legislation controlling crisis pregnancy agencies in Ireland. 

Congress notes with concern 

That as a result a number of rogue crisis pregnancy agencies have started up.

Congress recognizes 

That a rogue crisis pregnancy agency is one where the sole purpose of the agency is to prevent a pregnant woman from having 

an abortion. They misinform and intimidate women to achieve their aim, using methods such as harassment, bullying and been given blatantly false information. [Irish Family Planning Association (IFPA)]

Congress acknowledges 

The work done this year by Choice Ireland in campaigning against rogue crisis pregnancy agencies.

Congress mandates the Welfare Officer. 

To work with Choice Ireland, and other relevant agencies, to protest against these rogue crisis pregnancy agencies.

Congress further mandates the Welfare Officer

To lobby for the introduction of legislation in this area.

I do not believe that this was voting in opposition to a neutral position on abortion, I believe that this was voting in favour of telling the truth to pregnant women- something that, I would hope, people would agree on no matter what their opinion of abortion. Because the motion stipulated to "work with Choice Ireland", our President claimed it was not neutral and that we should abstain. I was told to leave the room once I'd voted in favour, I had my delegate card taken off me and was told I was no longer a QUBSU delegate at USI Congress 2013.

Once our President had told USI that I was no longer part of the QUBSU delegation, there was nothing USI could do- and I understand that, every union is autonomous within USI. He also would not make me an observer (we had a good few delegate/observer places left over- we never fill them). If I was an observer I would not have been able to vote- but I would have been able to enter the room, to listen. Instead, I spent three days in a hotel room, following the #USI13 feed on Twitter. If it hadn't been so far away, or the issue hadn't been so contentious, perhaps they would've tried to send me home- that's the usual protocol when someone is thrown out of a union delegation.

So what now? The support I received from other delegates was incredible, likewise, the support I received from people at home. I did not feel so alone- I knew I had done the right thing. There were two women delegates in our delegation out of eight. Many people find it absolutely ridiculous that the male dominated EMC decided to throw one out for speaking for her right to choose. That said, the week was isolating, lonely, and incredibly difficult. A few of my delegation did go out of their way to check I was alright, invite me over in the evenings, that sort of stuff- and I am very grateful for the support, particularly because it came from people who I have not exactly gotten along with in the past. I really did appreciate the effort that they made. Others ignored me for the remainder of the trip.

There are a number of issues here- firstly, regarding mandate. Were we there on the union's mandate? Or on our individual mandate? I believe the latter, the President believes the former. That is essentially the argument, and one that will be settled at our next meeting of QUBSU student council (if you want to come along, do- it's going to be interesting, to say the least).

However, there are a few other factors to consider- the conflict isn't simply on mandate. Neutrality on the issue of abortion (whilst I believe is a complete cop out, ignoring our duties as student representatives and students' union and putting our heads under the sand on the reality of the situation in Ireland), isn't as simple as just abstaining on every motion regarding abortion. The motion itself stipulates that the council now believes it is a matter of individual conscience and acknowledges the right for individual students to work with external organisations. Take from that what you will.. but I believe it gives individuals the right to express their opinions and vote accordingly at national conferences.

Another issue is that of 'mandates' as a whole. Students' unions sabbatical officers dislike when you criticise them, but hate when you criticise the validity of the structures that enabled them to get to where they are even more. Every time I tried to talk about the mandate issue, I was told by our President that the EMC was elected with a huge mandate, bigger than the council mandate- I agree the turn out was bigger than for the council elections. 4,124 students voted in the 2012 sabbatical elections. 4,124. There are 24,197 students at Queen's. That's a turn out of around 17% (I think- if I'm wrong, correct me! Working out percentages is not my strong point..). 17%... Anyone who thinks that this gives anyone the right to do anything in the name of 'all students', in the name of a 'huge mandate', needs a strong reality check.

There are a number of articles going round the internet about what happened at Congress- and there are some factual errors in them, unsurprisingly (that's not to say I don't appreciate the media coverage- I do!). Take this blog post as my account of what happened, even if it contradicts some of the things mentioned in the various articles.

Lastly, some asked me why I voted the way I did, when the motions would have passed with a comfortable majority regardless of my vote.

I voted because I am a woman, because I am a rational human being who believes in compassion for others. I voted because the laws governing my body in Northern Ireland date back to 1861. I voted because women in Ireland are told to be ashamed of making a decision regarding their reproductive health, because Savita Halappanavar's dying foetus was given more attention than she was. I voted because I know women who have had abortions, because each one of us know women who have had abortions. I voted because my reproductive health is not the business of anyone else. I voted because QUBSU women students need to know that even though their union has abandoned them, there is still support from within the student population. I voted because I am a feminist, because I believe in equality. I voted because the other QUBSU delegates decided to remain silent. I voted because it was the right thing to do. 

One thing I will not do is shut up.

In the last few days a number of people I know have deleted me from Facebook, or blocked me. In the grand scheme of things, they don't matter. They're not my friends. They're not even my acquaintances. So why am I writing this?

It's because I post a lot about things that are affecting women and students, because I post a lot about how I wish my students' union focused on the housing crisis rather than a stupid fucking talent show, because I post about things that we are all happy to live in blissful ignorance of.

GUESS WHAT? One in seven women will be victim of a serious sexual or physical assault whilst they're in university. I am not going to shut up. One thing I will never do is shut up. Maybe you haven't ever been a victim of sexual harassment, maybe you don't think institutional racism exists- but it happens. It happens and affects so many students and I am not prepared to sit back and ignore what is happening around me.

I am not against constructive criticism at all- I think national officers should be held to account. But this isn't like the infighting within the left- this is people who fundamentally disagree that these things are a problem, and for the life of me I am never going to sit down and be quiet just because you don't like what I'm hearing.

Why I'm not #BackinBelfast

The #BackinBelfast campaign launched in the wake of the devastating effect the loyalist flag protests were having on Belfast city centre. It started off as a relatively low key hashtag campaign on Twitter, and quickly erupted into a full blown, council and Executive backed campaign. Local newspapers are on board, with offers for various clubs, pubs and restaurants throughout the city being advertised daily in an attempt to revitalise the city centre and to increase the footfall that had been drastically affected in the wake of the seemingly never-ending loyalist protests.

The campaign launched at the end of January in a desperate attempt for the traders of the city to try to regain some of their lost revenue. Since the protests began in December, around 150 police officers have been injured, and the Confederation of British Industry have estimated that around £15 million has been lost in trade due to the protests. Pre-Christmas sales were badly affected, and the situation only seemed to go from bad to worse as time marched on. The cost of policing the protests is estimated to have exceeded £15 million. The Northern Irish Executive released a press statement at the end of January, declaring its support for the campaign, with Arlene Foster stating that it is essential for us to support our local businesses in what are very trying trading conditions.

So why am I not #BackinBelfast? I have a number of reasons. 

In typical Northern Irish fashion, we think that by throwing some money at the problem and having a colourful poster campaign, we actually solve what was wrong in the first place. We haven't. And no one is prepared to admit it. Whilst we have been holding hands with the 'other side' and proclaiming our love for our city centre, a 'unionist unity' candidate has been selected for the Mid-Ulster by-election, the Northern Irish Housing Executive is going to be abolished (with the possible loss of 400 public sector jobs, and hugely increased risk of privatisation), and two UUP MLAs have left the party in opposition to the recent actions undertaken by its leader, Mike Nesbitt.

The estimated amount that has gone into the campaign stands at around £1.5 million, with £400,000 directly from Belfast City Council and £600,000 from the Executive. The campaign has had great publicity, whilst the fact that countless death threats, bullets, and intimidation towards our elected representatives has pretty much been forgotten about in the past month or so. Some of those who were the targets of death threats may stand in polar opposition to what I stand for, but that doesn't mean I'll condone the threats to their families. 

The money that has been used to back the campaign could have, and should have, been used in any number of projects across the region that are crying out for funding. The media is bombarding us with deals and offers from pubs and restaurants around Belfast, at a time when wages for public sector workers have been frozen, the price of living is steadily increasing, and people are finding it exponentially difficult to get by day to day, without being shamed into spending what little money they have in restaurants and bars in the city. In addition to this, the workers in retail and hospitality industries have all but been left out in the cold by their employers- a lack of union presence means that all too often throughout the crisis, they were sent home from work and lost a significant amount of their earnings. Most have no union protection to ensure that they are paid irrespective of circumstance. In the bigger picture, this was seen in the south in January- music giant HMV announced it was going into administration and employees had to physically occupy the stores to ensure the company paid them the wages they were rightfully owed. 

But then we have another problem- the fact that many 'community' projects are fronted by paramilitaries who are kept quiet with the money dished out to them by the DUP/Sinn Fein coalition within the Executive. We need our elected representatives to take a stand on this- otherwise, it will keep going. On the ground, community workers see this day in and day out, and it appears to be one of the Executive's worst kept secrets. If everyone knows about it, why haven't we been lobbying the relevant Sinn Fein and DUP MLAs to stop this practise?! A similar situation was seen back in 2007, when then Social Development Minister Margaret Ritchie received numerous death threats at her refusal to continue to fund UDA-backed community projects without evidence of decommissioning and reduced criminality. Behind closed doors, everyday DUP and Sinn Fein members could be pushing their MLAs to stop this practise, but they aren't- it suits both parties for the status quo to remain intact. 

This is by no means an exhaustive list, nor does it explain as fully as I would like why I don't support the #BackinBelfast initiative. I find it rather insulting that my own students' union sabbatical officers are proudly enjoying their spot in the limelight as they publicly declare their support for the campaign, whilst simultaneously ignoring the fact that across the UK, there are campaigns far more worthy of their support- one only has to look at anti-fascist protests at Marine Le Pen's recent talk at Cambridge, and perhaps most importantly, recent occupations in the University of Sussex against further university privatisation to note that the de-politicisation of Queen's University Students' Union is hugely detrimental to the students and young people in Northern Ireland as a whole. 

I am not #BackinBelfast- I can't afford to. Neither can most students. Whilst students were not the main focus of this article, I'll stick to what I know best- students are struggling to get by as it is, and with £9k fees for GB students in Queen's University, halls that are more expensive than the basic loan, and a severe lack of part-time jobs (and those employed taken advantage of horrendously by their employers), students shouldn't be shamed into spending more money than they can afford. Luckily, it is often argued, we live in a world of (for the most part) interest-free overdrafts and the knowledge that it can be pushed to the back of our minds as a problem for 'future me' (the cost of living for students is something I'll get into another day- by no means take this as me declaring that we are in a comfortable position, when the reality is anything but). Most people living in Belfast don't have that luxury, most people couldn't afford to go to Deane's before the recession, never mind now. Maybe if our politicians start addressing the underlying problems- our innate sectarianism, the complete absence of any credible CSI document, inequalities in education, the strength of paramilitary control in many working class areas- I'll lend them my support in the future.

Blogs, by their very nature, are self-indulgent. I discussed this with my friend a few days ago (who I know will not read this because she makes a conscious effort not to read blogs for that very reason), and we both agreed. I mean, they are. Regardless of what you write about (with possibly a few exceptions), most blogs are rather self-indulgent. But that doesn't always mean it's a bad thing.

I'm exhausted. This week I've spent more time meeting with university and disability services staff than I have in class. Granted, I'm not in for very long every week, but that's still a lot of meetings. For someone who has spent the last three months depressed, anxious, suicidal, and keeping herself out of hospital, it has been hard to try to get back into the routine of university. It's only Week 3 and I already feel like I could keel over and sleep for a year. It's the kind of exhaustion that I can feel in my legs, the kind that stops me from making meals and having showers, and the kind that doesn't care about making meals and having showers. I am just too tired. I don't know if it's exhaustion or depression, but I also don't have the energy to care which it is.

We keep talking about self care. We keep talking about taking time out for ourselves whenever we need it, making sure that we are healthy and reasonably happy, in order to best do our jobs and best represent the students we've been elected to work for. But when we do just that, I can't help but feel there is always someone rolling their eyes behind your back. There is always someone quick to point out what you're doing wrong, and whilst I know that is part and parcel of the job (and I fully accept and think it is right that people criticise us- I mean, we need to be held to account), at times when I am not 100% it is difficult to deal with. And unfortunately, I'm rarely at 100%. I haven't been 'at 100%' for the duration of my degree, so far. And I wasn't well during my A Levels. Or my GCSEs.. so the problem is, where is the line? Where does self care begin and end? Should I even be doing what I'm doing in the first place? 

I didn't get accepted for a programme I applied for this summer (I'm on the reserve list, but people rarely drop out), and whilst I was initially disappointed, I couldn't help but notice the little thought inside my head that told me, realistically, it would be worse to have been accepted and then not to have been able to take up my place- the regulations note that you have to be 'healthy enough to travel', and considering the programme, it isn't unreasonable. And now I (though it would more likely be my parents) won't be forced into making the choice as to whether I'm 'well' enough to go away for ten weeks. 

But I'm still left with what is my life here. I study full time and essentially work part time in three different jobs. Luckily only one has contracted hours (the paid one), but even at that, the one shift I do will wear me out for the rest of the day. The good thing about the student newspaper and, to a lesser extent NUS-USI, is that I work from home and when I can, so I don't notice a 'set' amount of hours, but even things like spending an afternoon trying to catch up on emails or write reports for committees or try in vain to contact the different unions I represent can knock me out entirely. 

So what do I do? It is a question I am struggling with a lot. I have decided to spread my third year in university out into three terms- nothing is finalised but I'm hoping that will take off some of the pressure uni-wise, even though it means I won't graduate with my year and I probably will have another year of student loans to take out. I still have to be re-elected as Women's Officer for next year, and next year will be my last. Someone else will take over as News Editor for The Gown come June. But is it enough? Really, is it enough? Or will I have to accept the fact that this is a chronic condition and doesn't appear to be going away any time soon, and try to make the best out of a bad situation? I am doing what I can but I know it is not enough- it isn't up to my standards of what a News Editor or a Women's Officer or full-time student should be doing. Maybe I am spreading myself too thin, and maybe I need to remember occasionally that I came here a year and a half ago to try to do a degree, something I am reminded of every time I have to miss classes to go to conferences or London or when I can't get out of bed in the morning. 

This blog is self-indulgent. It is a way in which, as strange as this seems, my best friends, who I don't get to see very often (a mix of oceans between us/everyone has jobs and university and a million other commitments) can sometimes check in with how things are. Because I don't have the energy to contact them and make plans every week, I don't have the energy to reply to Facebook messages and talk about how things have been. I don't know why I decided to start documenting these kinds of things again, but I did, and so I need to try to stick at it. Even if it is self-indulgent. I don't have a therapist anymore and so these things, for the most part, go unsaid. I need to put it somewhere. I need to get it out of my head. 

When I was seventeen, my original plan was to go to university and then go to drama school afterwards. I had a life planned out for myself. I knew the barriers I would face, financially, in terms of trying to get through drama school, I knew the bursaries and scholarships I could apply for, I knew the cost of living in London, I had everything sorted. And then things changed.

I left school for a few months, and came back in the middle of May a different person. I had spent the previous few months in a permanent state of depression, effectively left school and decided that everything had changed. And then things changed again.

I decided I wasn't going to go back to school after only being able to sit one of my exams. I had researched my college course and I had secured my audition. I knew what I had to do and although things had changed, I had adapted.

And somehow, whilst on holiday in a small house with my family in the Tuscan hills I remembered how much I loved learning and how I wasn't ready to give it up quite yet. I remembered that nothing was better to me than a book, and that if I felt like that it made sense to go back and fit it into one year. So that's what I did.

I applied for university in September. English or English and Drama were my choices. And then things changed again.

Come May, I decided I wanted to do Politics instead. So I rang the university I'm currently at, and asked them if I could change my course. And they said yes. And then I ended up here.

I did one play at the beginning of first year. I did love it, despite the time commitments while everyone around me in halls could go out every night etc., it didn't matter because I knew I was doing what I wanted to do.

And things changed again. I was ill again and subsequently have missed more university that I can bear thinking about. And somewhere, somehow, I ended up getting involved in my students' union. And in NUSUSI and NUS. I don't quite know how I ended up here, but I did.

I've been thinking a lot about my old 'dreams', or possibly it would be more appropriate to call them 'life plans'. At one point I wanted to be a doctor, at one point a mental health nurse. I wanted to go to art college. I wanted to go to film school I wanted to do everything and even now, I can see myself, as if I was watching some sort of screen, playing out my life in each of those scenarios. I can see every one of them. And it feels strange.

Blue Monday.

Every Sunday, along with millions of others around the world, I check the PostSecret website. I save every postcard on my laptop, and I usually post a few ones on my tumblr, too. And today this one made me think. So I thought I'd write. It's the back of a card, so if you don't know what I'm talking about it might be best to visit the PostSecret website first to see the other side of the card.

With every medication, there are side effects. And the strong the drug, the stronger the side effects (well, for some people, anyway). I've been on quite a few different drugs and had a number of unpleasant side effects, so much so that in the past I've contemplated coming off medication altogether.

I think I was about 17. I'd been on medication for a few years at that point. I remember being in CAMHS, anyway. I don't know what I was talking about, why I wanted to come off it in the first place, but I was depressed and saw the drugs as making what was a cognitive problem worse. Then I wanted to come off them again, last year. I remember Sylvia's reply, it went something like, "So you're depressed and frustrated and you want to come off the anti-depressants because you feel like that will help? In what world would coming off the anti-depressants make sense?" I was 19 and stressed and depressed and constantly terrified and didn't want to have to deal with these horrible problems in front of me. I was sick of the fact that no one around me was going through it, I was sick of the fact that my peers' biggest worries were essay deadlines and making it in to class when I was trying to unblock my head, figure out why I was making myself depressed and try not to top myself in the process.      

Today is 'Blue Monday'. I'd never heard of this before, but apparently it's the most depressing day of the year. So far today I have managed to wake up, showered, handed in two essays, made birthday presents/jewellery, and watched a lot of 24. This is considered a very successful day for me. 

So what I wanted to say, or rather, ask- was it worth it? Are the side effects worth it? Are the hours (and money) spent in therapy worth it? Is it worth losing what feels like a huge part of myself, my identity, to try and keep myself safe?  

Every single damn tear and word needs to be worth it, because we are living in a world that does not care, a world that will let us fall and ignore our screams for help. It needs to be worth it because we need to change this world, change it for the better, change it to make it worth trying to survive. 

The last few weeks have shown me more than ever that we are at a critical time in the fight for the rights of disabled people in the UK and Ireland, one of a thousand problems I could easily list. We need to mobilise students to fight for the rights of those who are deliberately silenced and deliberately ignored. We need to use all the tools at our disposal, whatever they might be, to make sure that this fight does not go unheard and unnoticed. I am a disabled woman student and I am being let down, every single day, by the voices in Stormont, Westminster; even in places as close as my students' union and university. Where the hell has the compassion gone? Where is the anger? No one is going to start the argument for us- we need to do it ourselves.

Monday.

It's currently exam season. The library is filled with people. There are empty Boojum bags all over the cafe. Coffee sales are at an all time high. Facebook is covered in worried/angsty/stopped-giving-a-fuck-just-let-them-end statuses. 

Usually I'd be freaking out along with everyone else. I've never taken exam stress well. Well, at least I don't think I have. I tend to perform well in exams, and even though right now I'd say that I don't think exams stress me out BECAUSE I perform better in them.. I remember having a conversation with my mum about this a few months ago and she stared back at me with disbelief- I'd clearly forgotten how ill I'd been as a result of the pressure last year, and that doesn't surprise me. Your mind blocks things out, at least mine does. It blocks out painful memories, and as cliched as it sounds, it's true. Because I came out of last year with a 2.1, I seemed to have forgotten how bad I was around exam time. This is the same thing that happened with my GCSEs and my A Levels. And of course, I promptly forgot how ill I was during those exams too, because I came out each time with good grades. 

Things were so bad last year I considered dropping out of university entirely. Then I told myself to wise up, because it wasn't like I had a part time job or anything I could do for a while.. I'd literally be going from university to nothing- which is what is definitely needed in some cases, but I didn't think I was ill enough to have the only thing I 'do' be therapy. I'm used to being busy all of the time. I just know I wouldn't have been able to do it- although saying that, I do think I should have maybe taken a few gap years before coming to university in the first place.

Because of the new medication and the short term medication I'm on at the minute, my memory is fucked. Short term memory, that is. So I wouldn't be able to revise (psychiatrist's words, not mine- I actually initially thought they helped me revise, just because they cleared my head). So then I decided to try to do essays instead of exams. And for once in their lives, my school were actually relatively good about it all (my school in the university- ever since I've arrived at university I've had to constantly jump through hoops in order to get what I need disability wise, in terms of provisions etc., it's been an absolute fucking joke) and it got sorted pretty quickly. Instead of three exams, I'm writing three essays. 

The first two are done, and I've just begun working on the third. I had roughly a week to do each of them, which factored in time for bad days etc., and I knew I'd be alright. And so far, I have been. This is the least stressed-out I've been around exam time, ever. Even though I can't remember specific details of exam times in the past, I know that much. I've so far stayed on schedule, and gotten the first two essays done within the first fortnight, leaving me a week for the third. So technically, everything should be grand. 

I'll give you another account of the last three weeks. Whilst everything has stayed on track (to a degree) in terms of my university work, my health is all over the place. I've lost weight, because I keep forgetting to eat- which then makes me scared I'll revert back into old unhealthy habits in regards to food, just because I've remembered what it's like to lose weight. I either sleep little or too much. When I started my newest medication, I couldn't even pour a cup of tea without spilling hot water everywhere, my coordination was so bad. Sometimes I've lay in bed for fourteen hours because I don't have the energy to pull myself up. I've ran back, literally and metaphorically, to ex-boyfriends, because whenever I get lonely and depressed I try to remember where I ever found any source of comfort or affection and try desperately to cling back at it. Each day I've spent in the library, I've had to take some form of tablet to help me concentrate enough to do work, and then worry about the stares I get when I lift out said tablet to take it. Then it makes me sleepy, so I have to have caffeine to make myself wake up. It's a vicious cycle- especially because amidst this, I've forgotten to eat a meal, so my energy levels aren't what they should be. I come home to an empty house (my house mate has caught the horrible virus thing that's going around and now that her exams are over it's understandable she'd rather be at home), turn on the heating, and sit in bed freezing for a few hours before I take more medication and send myself off to sleep. I keep looking down at my hands in disbelief, I just can't see them as my hands any more and I don't know why. And whilst trying to manage this, I'm also trying to do three essays, do what I can for NUSUSI, and battle with my university and students' union in regards to provisions for disabled students amongst other things.

It is exhausting. 

But it's half past midnight, and I'm not exhausted, even though I had to get up early today for an appointment, because I think I remembered to have breakfast but I don't think I managed lunch or dinner, and there comes a point where a lack of food gives you an odd manic energy that you can't quite explain. I've told my doctors about this, I'm doing all that I can university wise, and I was a little worried they would try to admit me this morning at my psychiatrist appointment, so the fact that I'm writing this is in itself a good thing- what an odd thing to be proud of on a Monday night. 

But it's Monday, and it's over and I should take my tablets soon so that I don't sleep for the entire day tomorrow. I wasn't admitted and I can't make a meeting I really wanted to go to tomorrow morning, but I suppose I can live with that. I have to, I don't have another option.

February 2012 - February 2013.

As most people are aware, I'm open with my mental health problems. Very open, in comparison to most people I know. And whilst it occasionally has it's problems, for the most part I haven't had anything bad come of it- although of course this may change whenever I want to get a 'proper' job and employers start Googling me, but whatever. Anyway. 

In the last few weeks, I've had more than a few people come to me (friends, acquaintances, sometimes people I have on Facebook after meeting them once or twice) looking for advice/support on various mental health issues. Anything from where to go in terms of looking for counselling services in their university, to asking how I manage to remember to take medication everyday. It is whenever things like this happen that I remind myself that for all the negativity that comes with being so open about these problems/issues/illnesses/whatever/etc. I have, if it means that people I don't know can ask me about the aforementioned things, it has to be worth it. 

And this leads me to the actual point of this post. Almost a year ago (sometime in February, but I can't remember the date- oddly I can never remember the dates of these things) I tried to kill myself again. I took a lot of tablets, and quite frankly it's a miracle my liver managed not only to withstand it, but come out relatively unharmed. I seem to be one of the lucky ones, seeing as after a couple of attempts like this, I haven't seen any long term damage. Then again, I'm still only 20. Seven years isn't a long time, maybe I'll experience future health problems as a result of all of this. But, similarly with my smoking, I don't worry about that sort of stuff right now. Making it from one day to the next is enough, for now. 

Right now, unfortunately, I am not in a good enough place to say 'I am glad I did not die'. I know that it is a good thing. But right now, I am not very well. It would be hypocritical to say that I am entirely happy and optimistic about the future, when I am not. I am functioning, to a degree. My stability fluctuates. I have to keep forcing myself to eat because I keep forgetting to be hungry. Sometimes I still need to push myself to get into the shower, to go outside, to leave my room. And I'm attempting to write three essays in the middle of this, too. But no matter.

These things have happened in the past year. They would not have happened, had I been successful. 

NUS and NUSUSI have been huge for me. It sounds wanky and cliched, but particularly in the last few months, these organisations have been a lot more for me than 'just' a student movement. The last few months have been terrible university wise, but I was able to try to keep focused on the fact that whilst my degree is apparently my biggest priority, whilst I'm in university I can also contribute to something much bigger and much more important than myself- trying my best to help the millions of other students in the UK and Ireland. I know both organisations have faced their fair share of criticism from all over the place since I've been involved, but despite our differences (whether they be political, or on how best to do x, y or z.. etc.), I know that I amongst a wonderful group of people who are united in the same cause and are throwing every piece of themselves into it. Meeting these people at events and meetings and committees and protests and conferences just makes it feel all the more worthwhile. I feel privileged and blessed to be involved with such wonderful and talented people, and so grateful for the lifelong friends I have made as I've gone along.

I finished my first year of university. I managed to NOT try to kill myself a few more times at the end of the academic year; which was by no means an easy feat. I had my heart broken, and subsequently learnt from it, even though it was easily one of the hardest things I've gone through. I moved into a wonderful flat with a best friend and remembered what it was like to have a home again, once the misery that was halls was over. I became friends with some excellent people, people who now count as best friends, as family. I travelled; I've been over to London a few times, I've been to Bristol, I've been to Berlin. I've discovered some more wonderful writing, some more incredible poetry. My room is covered in postcards and pictures from trips, galleries, museums, little bits of inspiration I've came across, birthday cards. I've found new music to listen to, I've played music with my family, I've taken up practising in the music rooms at uni. I remembered what it was like to be well enough to learn and to read and do all the things that I'd forgotten I could do, because being ill clouded any hope I had of ever feeling like my former self. I've had a visit from a wonderful friend during the summer I met on the Internet a few years ago, and we have become close friends since. I've had drunken nights in ridiculous clubs and hilarious mornings after, I've had days sitting in the sun doing absolutely nothing and nights spent sitting up till 3am playing board games. I've had few, but significant, moments when I am doing nothing, something ordinary and everyday and suddenly feel overwhelming grateful for this life I've been given. I've turned 20; I've made it to my twenties when I thought I would kill myself before I got there. I've embarked on a number of art projects, some completed, some lie unfinished. One is up on my wall. And even though I don't specifically look at it when I'm feeling particularly bad, I know that when I made it I wanted to remind myself that eventually this pain will be in the past. Eventually it will be behind me. I may suffer from health problems for the rest of my life, I may always remain on medication, I may be in therapy for a long time- but the hardest years, the loneliest years, they have to be behind me. They have to be because I can't believe otherwise. I would drive myself crazy- waiting for the next slip up, waiting for the next bout of depression or incident that lands me in hospital. The worst has to be behind me because there is nothing sadder than a 13-year-old child trying to kill herself. The worst has to be behind me because whilst no amount of art or writing that I produce as a result of being ill will ever make it worth it, I have been fortunate enough to meet some incredible people I am lucky enough to call friends. And people make it worth it. Or rather, they make it sufferable. 

Above all, I've survived. And I've gotten through. And I'm on the other side, despite how cloudy and uncertain it may be. And in the end, that's what matters. 

Productive days, lonely nights and little lifts.

My productive morning and productive afternoon and productive evening didn't turn into a productive night, but what was initially a depressing night turned into a hilarious one with a few texts laughing at the ridiculousness of my life with a good friend.

Sometimes the simple things are actually quite effective. All you need is a good friend and the fact that you've had a few awkward morning after walks home.

2012 #2.

July

Moving into Ashley, the disastrous first day and the great weeks that followed. Sarah's birthday, the meals out, the wonderful beautiful meals out where I worried about the cost rather than the calories. Falafel burgers and cocktails. Niamh's birthday night out, endless trips to Limelight and too many walks home from wherever he was staying that month. Alcohol, nights out, afternoons sitting in the garden smoking. Having the best time in the flat, happily living with a best friend and the best bed I've ever slept in. Beginning to work in NUSUSI, learning more everyday. Saying goodbye to Sylvia, the woman who saved my life more than once. Beginning to think I'd be able to cope on my own. Up and down, always up and down.

August

Forfey, camping and alcohol and taking photos and having the best time. Missing Heather and the Forfey of years ago. Tanya visiting, wonderful Tanya, having the best few days and becoming so close. The day trips, times at the beach, wearing whatever I wanted and finally not caring. Trying to get a job, failing, depression and tears. Seeing old friends on nights out. Caoimhe's birthday, the drunken night and the horrible walk home which ended with two strangers saving my life. Coming to terms with what was happening. More so, my inability to deal with it. 

September

University starting again, finally. Union, the drunkenness and the walk home the morning after. Bristol and the UK Feminista Conference, meeting Kelley and the start of a great friendship. Meeting so many incredible women and garnering support for the movement back in the north. Telling horror stories about our lack of access to reproductive health, feeling miserable and lonely and that the fight was too much. Remembering why we keep trying to do what we do, regardless of what they say about us. Seeing BJH, Sam and the beginning of us. Planning Berlin.

October

Ronan's birthday, nights in instead of out. Taking care of him. Wrestling with the ever internal battle to keep reminding myself that I was a girlfriend, not a therapist. Berlin, having the best four days. The city that seemed sad. The museums and the beer and the cheap wonderful food and the incredible people we met, sitting on the airport floor eating chips and drinking beer before going back to reality. Halloween that didn't happen, trying so hard to be understanding, seeing that it was wearing me away. The NUSUSI QUBSU referendum, friends caring who never used to, being called baby killers on the street. 

November

The SDLP Conference, the essay I managed first. Meltdowns. NUS Demo 2012, flying over for Women's Committee and meeting the most incredibly diverse group of intelligent women. Reminding myself that this was why we do it. The depression, the anxiety, essays gone to shit and classes missed. Blurry. Few photos, few outings of any significance, few memories save the ones mentioned. Blank. Depression.

December

December. Break up, the end of that. The end of the year. Turning 20, the disastrous weekend that it turned out to be, the tears and the depression. Letting go, entirely, of those who did nothing but ruin me. Saying goodbye to any hope of reconciliation. Days spent in bed, tears, anxiety, classes missed. Appointments cancelled and shite doctors and dealing with a university who seemed determined to put everything in my way. PostSecret, Dublin. Tears the entire way through. Meeting my hero, the one upside to what had been a terrible week. Home, family. Rest. Kittens! The best few days in what was a terrible month. Coming back, more appointments, new medications, seemingly stable. A new year's eve spent with good people, a new year's day spent with good friends. Welcoming in the new year tipsy and lonely, unsurprising. 

As a whole, this wasn't a very enjoyable thing to write. It didn't feel nice to look through photographs of people who are no longer in my life, and it didn't make me happy to try and remember the few happy times in between the dark mess that was most of my year. I have some wonderful friends and family in my life and have had some wonderful experiences this year, but it just doesn't feel like the good outweighs the bad, unfortunately. Which is a shame- because if the bad hadn't been so bad, then it might not be so. The good is good- travelling, meeting some amazing new people, NUSUSI, NUS, working, The Gown, simple drunken nights out in Limelight without a care in the world.. but it doesn't quite cut it. It doesn't quite make the dullness in any way more shiny. We are in a new year, but we still have last year's problems. Nothing has changed but the date. I managed to stay out of hospital, to stay in university- but it is difficult to list these things as things to be proud of when you know you are capable of accomplishing so much more. 

Maybe I am being too harsh on myself, maybe I need to give myself a break. Maybe finishing this post after a day working in the library wasn't the best idea. But that's what it's like. Sometimes I am lucky and have days when I feel like myself again, it is usually then that I decide to write it down, to document it. But there are the days in between, the days unseen to most people who know me. I've stopped saying 'I'm fine' when someone asks me how things are- I've stopped caring if it makes them awkward, I've stopped caring if it wasn't the answer they wanted to hear. Things aren't fine, and I'm not fine- so I won't pretend to be.

It feels sad to leave this post in this way. But I can't think of anything particularly uplifting to announce about my year, no matter what I've learned and the experiences I've had, it has been a bad one.