Hannah, we have a problem.

 There is a gigantic meteorite heading towards me. I can’t move. Not one inch of my body will budge from it’s current position. My brain hasn’t registered the hurling mass that is, at present, hurtling through space and time towards my current location. In short, I’m screwed.

 No, I haven’t turned into a doomsday predictor in the past week. I have, however, noticed just how fast Christmas time is approaching, which to every student means one thing: deadlines. (Yes, I know it can also mean finally taking the laundry that has been ominously piling up over the past term back to Mum and Dad to do, but that’s besides the point…)

 Anyway, back to my point. Exams, Essays, and Deadlines. Three words that strike fear into any students heart. No matter how well prepped a student may be, those dreaded words can still magically make the palms clammy, the lip quiver, and result in the overwhelming desire to watch Netflix all day. This week I have definitely been feeling the pressure of deadlines creeping up on me.

 No, not creeping. Barreling.

 Here’s the problem. I’m a perfectionist. I take pride in my work, and no, that isn’t always a problem but sometimes the perfectionism can really take hold. I don’t like handing in work that I’m not 110% sure is my best. Unfortunately, I need to remember that every so often, the work I’m expected to submit is a work in progress not the beautiful final product. That being said, it’s hard to let go.

 Take today, for example. Today I felt like I was drowning in deadlines and word counts and nothing was making me feel any better about the situation facing me. I have a proposal due, which in it’s definition is not the final product, but I want to show the best work I possibly can as soon as I possibly can. Today that has felt like a massive hindrance in my work. So I gave up. I called the boyfriend (or chauffeur depending on how you look at it) and asked him to pick me up and proceeded to sulk quietly in the car for most of the journey back to our flat. But then I got home, and I had received a package:


 Words cannot explain just how uplifting it was to receive my undergraduate graduation photo. Yes, my hair is a bit wonky and, like everyone, I have a dozen things I’d like to change about myself, but, I’ll tell you what, nothing grounds a person quite like actually seeing just how far they have come so far.

 Suddenly the meteorites don’t seem as big or as catastrophic. Actually, they seem like they might be a fun ride. Maybe I’ll hitch a lift…

(And to Jonathan, the best boyfriend/chauffeur/shoulder-to-cry-on a girl could ask for, I couldn’t have dealt with today without you – so, cheers pal! x)

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