Panic Stations

My dissertation is on Friday.

This project I’ve been working on for weeks, building up to since September (and, really, since I started my degree almost three years ago), this piece of theatre that I have created and has given me so much stress and cause for tears these last few months… is being performed on Friday afternoon.

I’m terrified. There’s no excitement there, which is a shame – it’s just pure fear. I don’t feel ready, I’m certain I’ve forgotten something, and I feel overwhelming, crippling nerves about it all. Because of the timing, SB will have to be there, as I can’t be certain it’ll be finished by the time she needs picking up from nursery – thankfully my parents will be there, as otherwise we’d be in big trouble seeing as D and I are both in it.

I’m proud of it, I really am – it’s taken so much work, from both D and I, but I feel like once it’s done, I’ll have proved to myself once and for all, that everything – the pregnancy, the difficulties we encountered in SB’s early days, all the stress of trying to balance student life and parenthood – was really just a speed bump. If I can do this, and make D and SB and my family proud, I’ll be able to prove to myself that I did the right thing in carrying on straight into third year without taking time out.

I know the script is great. I know that the words of everyone I interviewed are honest and real and powerful; far more powerful than anything I could have written. I know D will do brilliantly, as hearing his performance has made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up on more than one occasion. I know the tech works, and I’m fairly certain it’ll run smoothly. The only question is, can I keep a lid on my nerves? Can I allow myself to relax and enjoy it?

More than anything I know the best thing will be, at the end of it all, being able to have a cuddle with this little girl, and knowing that I have made her proud.

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