I’ve already observed in the recent past that my photo diary has been suffering. That’s because of a promise to myself (and those who care about me) that I’d only do as much of anything as I felt I could without stress.

To be honest, I have a bit of a problem with that in as much as it makes this exercise “lack teeth”. When I look back, some of the best things I did were done when I was at the end of my tether in one way or another. These days all of it seems bland to me. You know – I only put down my thoughts when they are essentially on an even keel at worst.

So, I’ve been locked into the “shall I or shan’t I?” debate about whether to carry on with pbase and that hasn’t been helped by the technical problems with the service of the last couple of weeks. David has looked elsewhere, and he tells me that many other pbasers have been doing so too.

Today though I realised that I’m in a situation that if only I could harness, then I may be of some use to other people through this so I’m going to try a bit harder over the next few weeks and see if I can work out a better compromise between time/effort/content.

You see, part of my absence over the recent times has been due to pushing myself really hard to complete jobs around the house before I started at Uni. You know – the utility room that I told you about, the kitchen, the veggie garden etc etc etc. I’ve been shoving and pushing and toiling to prevent me from having to face up to being a student.

I’ve been through never-ending arguments with myself about whether or not I’m capable of doing a degree (too old, too stupid, too many lost brain cells). I’ve fretted and worried about my financial status and whether or not I can live for the next four years on a Student Loan. I’ve even had the heebegeebies about whether I could ever “fit in” as a student – this one didn’t go away on day 1 when I realised that most of the folks on my course are not simply young enough to be my children, but most could be my GRANDCHILDREN.

The worst bit though, I think I see it now, is that the truth is I’m just scared of going to another educational institution. The sheer terror of my first days in every new school I’ve ever been to came flooding back to me this morning. Well, if I’m honest, it all came back last night or last week or last month, causing me sleepless nights and cold sweats. You’d think I was inexperienced at changing “schools” the way I’ve been feeling.

You’d never guess that I’ve done this so many more times than probably several generations of most families. Fourteen schools in ten years, a college of further education and now, after a gap of 31 years, a University. I should be thinking of myself as an old hand whereas all I know is that I feel every bit as miserable and every bit as much of a desire to run away as I did on every one of those occasions all of those years ago.

I’m glad I’ve got DM to gently catch my fall and hold me in place. He was so kind as to get up at 6.30am this morning and take me in – not sure if that wasn’t just to make sure I actually went or whether it was just being kind and taking away one stress. Why did I ever think that being “grown up” would be easier?