By the end of the week, I was really over-tired and over-stressed about university and 1001 other things, horribly hormonal, and really not myself at all. The nervousness about travelling just kept growing until I wasn't sure if I was looking forward to it much at all. The night before, I got absolutely no sleep, and when I finally did get to sleep, I was awoken at 1am by a withheld number calling me (thanks, asshole). I then woke up again feeling full of cold and rather crappy at 4am, and was still awake at 5am when my alarm went off to get ready. By this point, I felt really, truly, terrible. So I started getting ready, determined to go and have a good time. Then I started crying and couldn't stop and felt really stupid. Fab.
I'm not sure why I didn't give up at this point, but I was really insistent on trying. So I walked to the train station in dreadful wind and rain - an umbrella was futile. By the time I reached the station, my feet and hair were soaked and my makeup was a mess and I was again, crying (you may be noticing a theme here) and still feeling awful. So I went into the train bathroom and fixed my makeup, bought a ticket to Liverpool, and got on the train. Again, I ask myself, why didn't I go home?
As soon as I got on the train, I became increasingly horrified at the idea of being stuck in Birmingham if I started feeling worse, as I'd have to wait for the train I'd booked to get home, and started feeling even more horrible, if that was possible. So you guessed it, I cried some more, and got so worked up and panicked that I was sick. In my mouth. In front of other commuters. Not my finest hour, really.
So I finally gave up and got off the train and turned back to go home. I rang Freddie to come and meet me at the train station then rang my mum and had a good moan and a cry, then spent Saturday in bed, doing odd bits of work, painting my nails, watching YouTube videos, napping and drinking a lot of hot chocolate. When Sunday came, I still wasn't feeling myself at all, so decided to stay home again and have another day of rest. Even though I felt really guilty and like I was letting other people down and being a baby, I know deep down I made the right decision so that I could get back on my feet again and carry on doing what I need to do.
The moral of the story is that it's important to look after yourself, and forcing yourself into things you're not well enough to do isn't a good idea. Sometimes you just have to say no and take time to help yourself feel better. Don't leave self-care until you're being sick on a train. It's not nearly as fun as it sounds!