Dear me at the beginning of 2016,

You’ll graduate. (Now let’s just also tell that to 2012 us!)

You’ll start eating bagels again – albeit bagel thins with carefully measured, prescribed, peanut butter. Peanut better all the way.

You’ll lose Mr Boo. And dad will crumble and your brother will suddenly be the grown up.

You’ll give a new dog his forever home.

You’ll finally buy a new suitcase and you’ll drag it up and down the hill a couple more times.

You’ll pack your life up once more.

And you’ll move back home.

You’ll start a blog.

And you’ll be published in Exeter Living.

You’ll try to convince yourself that academia can wait by writing an article on it for Exepose.

Your GP will freak out…then tell you she’s proud of you.

You’ll receive a letter from the House of Lords congratulating you on it.

You’ll drink one hell of a lot of green tea…because hey, some things don’t change!

You’ll go to Venice and you’ll laugh for the entirety of the trip; you’ll realise how goddamn lucky you are to have such wonderful friends.

You’ll say goodbye to many and you’ll keep your promise to stay in touch.

You’ll realise life’s cruelty, as you hold your brother tightly one October Tuesday morning. In that moment you’ll be totally helpless, you all will. In the weeks and months that follow, you’ll realise how very strong your big little brother has become. And in life’s intolerable cruelty, you’ll be very proud of him.

You’ll defer your MA, on medical grounds…because for the first time, in a very long time, you really will put your health before academia.

It’ll terrify you. You’ll cry heaps. You’ll debate loads. You’ll question it a million times over. Deep down, you’ll know you’ve made the right choice.

People will question you and your choices. Let them. And then make them stop. You don’t need it. It’s your life – if you’re going to believe anything, believe that.

You’ll eat a banana.

And you’ll cry over rice and beans and become fixated with lentils.

You’ll try once more.

Please, I’m begging you, let yourself try once more.

You’ll light that Yankee Candle, because no, it’s not indulgent or excessive.

You’ll ride a ferris wheel.

And you’ll split your knee open on the dodgems.

You’ll have the biggest glass of Pimm's ever.

You’ll admit you’re not okay…

You’ll begin to believe that one day you can be okay.

You’ll get really really really ridiculously drunk on cocktails, whilst celebrating the end of your degree…

And be drunk the whole of the next day…

And go out again that night (and be the first ones in the club)

You’ll make a fair few cakes.

You’ll read a fair few books.

You’ll buy a fair few new clothing items.

You’ll eat a Nakd bar.

You’ll go to a silent disco.

You’ll also go to a festival…shhh, but you might just see Coldplay.

You’ll dye a ginger streak in your hair by mistake.

You’ll consider cutting your hair short…several times.

You’ll spend many an hour a week in your GP’s office. She’ll be your lifeline and you’ll owe her the world.

She’ll leave. You’ll start seeing a new GP. You’ll survive.

You’ll salvage your sanity in the pages of colouring books.

You’ll cry down the phone, totally desperate and totally at the mercy of your “care team”.

Despite having no one else and being terrified beyond belief, you’ll come to accept that they are hurting you more than helping you.

You’ll discharge yourself.

You’ll be up all night with medication that makes you horrendously nauseous.

You’ll start new medication.

You’ll have weekly bloods.

You’ll bite your bottom lip as multiple nurses crowd round and try again and again to suck blood through that bloody butterfly needle. You’ll bruise.

But you’ll also dance. You’ll dance so damn much.

You’ll sing in the kitchen.

You’ll play lots of Frisbee…and get the Frisbee stuck a fair few times.

You’ll spend a drunken night in a cardboard box.

You’ll be totally crap at Cards Against Humanity.

You’ll catch many a train…with many a book.

You’ll cry down the phone to dad as your MacBook dies mid-dissertation.

You’ll become hysterical as you hear Mr Apple Man say “yeah, you’re on borrowed time…hope you’ve got everything on a hardrive”

But here’s the thing younger me, it’s going to really, really suck (you’re going to think you’re doomed and the world is unfair), but you WILL be okay.

You’ll lose Maisie MacBook for a couple of months…you’ll lose some research and be told you could lose all your photos. You’ll cry and then you’ll push it to the back of your mind, because this dissertation still needs writing.

You’ll hand in your dissertation. You’ll include screenshots from Frozen.

You’ll be totally head over heals in love with your degree (even in the shitty long library hours, and in the 4-6pm Thursday seminar, and even post-massacring 1000s of words from your dissertation).

You’ll miss your degree, and Queen's, and tutor's office hours like you never thought possible.

Your dad will turn 50. He’ll be greyer, but one step closer to retirement.

Your parents will build a new house.

Your dad will put up a fence that looks like a horse is due to move into the garden.

Your village favourites will move house.

You’ll put the bins out week in week out.

You’ll realise that, other than putting the bins out, you’re not all that good at “adulting”.

You’ll swap branflakes for cornflakes.

You’ll think you’re dying when you get flu midway through term and can’t move. You’re not. That said, you do need to stop, go home and get better.

The neuroscience scrapbook, on the other hand, will near on kill you.

Apples will feature in abundance. Try and be brave, I know it’s hard, trust me, I do. An apple a day won’t keep the doctor away.

Despite life's harshness, your little brother will be the happiest you’ve ever seen him. And you’ll be happy for him.

You’ll watch friends in horrible situations, and more than anything in the world you’ll wish you could make it better. You can’t. You’ll try. But you can’t. And that’s okay.

Grandma will be okay.

You’ll start wearing glasses (another thing the degree cost you!!).

You’ll spend a lot of time emailing the writer of your dissertation text…you’ll be on first name terms.

You’ll spend an evening wandering the streets of Venice, in the rain, counting down house numbers and fearing you may never, ever find your apartment. You will convince yourself you are homeless. And, quite literally, stranded on an island. I won’t ruin the ending for you, but, shhh, the sun will come out, you’ll drink green tea in the cutest bakery and know you’ve got friends for life.

You'll also shelter from the storm in a doorway...the "wet paint" signs won't be seen until you step out.

Oh, and that Neuroscience scrapbook, you may just get your best mark yet.

Zara will never let you down.

Your 21^st birthday will make you feel very loved and very grateful.

You'll eat a lot of homemade broccoli soup.

And you'll spend a lot of time wandering round supermarkets. 

You’ll take your brother to open days and burst with pride that Exeter accepted you all those years ago.

You’ll be 120% sure that Exeter was the best thing to ever happen to you.

You’ll throw up for the first time since you were 8. Don’t freak (I know you’re freaking), you’ll be so drunk that you won’t be conscious of it happening (I’m sorry, so sorry to those wonderful friends who witnessed that night...I'm also sorry to younger me, who's probably hoping 2016 is the year I get my life together and meet my Prince Charming..it's not).

You’ll send postcards and letters and post. Do it. It’ll make you smile. It matters.

Oh, and you’ll learn how to use the self-serve thingys in the post office…kind of.

You’ll continue to spend your student loan in coffee shops. And you’ll have no regrets at that.

You’ll eat a Freddo one Sunday afternoon, amidst dissertation notes and across from good company and it’ll make everything a bit more okay.

Order will be restored when Hoff rekindles her love of chocolate fingers, chocolate oranges and the entirety of a tray bake!

Emma Woolf will invite you to read her latest book…pre-release.

You’ll swim in the sea.

And then the next day you’ll watch the sun set over the sea. Say yes.

Some old friends will pop by and say hi.

And readjusting to life without your uni friends will leave you wondering how you ever survived life without them pre-uni?!

You’ll be admitted to day patient treatment on an eating disorder ward.

And starting said treatment in January of 2017 will terrify you beyond words. I'm sorry, pre-2016 me, I don't quite have the hindsight/wisdom/bravery to tell you what happens next, how many times you'll walk down that ward corridor, or how many times you'll sit round that table and silently cry...but, all I can tell you is that, as 2016 draws to a close, we will know it's time, and we will know it's necessary, and we will be sick and tired of being sick and tired.

As for 2016, you’ll miss a lot this year.

You’ll miss out on a fair bit too.

But you will get to the end of the year, with a lot of laughter, and you will be okay.

With love, always, 

Me at the end of 2016 xx