Well, as keen and consistently-engaged a student as I am, I still managed to finish my first semester back at uni with a resounding, “FUCK!”

As expected, my academic performance was pretty underwhelming, because I had to learn lots of new things upon my return to uni… how to care for my family – whose needs are a heavy load on me – at the same time as study, how to navigate the student portal, how to use Turnitin again (which I was always pretty mystified about in the first place), how to use APA7 referencing and formatting, how to access lectures and course materials and just the INFORMATION about when things are due… and it turns out that when there’s conflicting and quite ambiguous information about the times things are due, you might see the wrong source with incorrect information and take that as gospel.

I thought I was so organised at the beginning of the semester, because I used a diary (which I need because of my memory/recall/attention issues) and found all the information I could about DUE DATES. Because if you’re not paying attention to those dates and times from the first DAY, you’re already doing yourself and the lecturers a massive disservice.

I hit something that said “29 Oct 2:59” and wrote that into my diary. To me, that was all I needed. So when all the cramming students – which is A LOT OF STUDENTS – all came in at the end of semester asking silly last-minute questions about when things are due, I tuned out. “I sorted that out in week 1, I said to myself. “I’m glad I’m not one of those students who ignores deadlines all semester then panicks at the end. I’m being a very good girl,” I said, patting the open diary beside my desk with 11-week old handwriting on it that said “29 Oct 2:59 – PART B DUE!” on it.

Well, it turns out that just below that Really Important Underlined Writing at the top of the page, there was more text that said the 28th. Even better… it was 2:59am. Not 2:59pm. Take that an even bigger step? Surprise! It’s actually 11:59pm! It’s NOT EVEN ANY OF THE 2:59s AT ALL!

I have dedicated myself to my family all semester whose diagnoses and everyday needs are FULL ON every day and every night and every weekend and in school hours of every school week I just SMASHED those two classes.

Except it turns out that pacing myself, organising myself, writing out all the dates and being extremely well-prepared and engaged with the learning ends in your failure of classes.

I am just devastated today. It has been a hugely triggering assessment period, because the behaviour of all the lecturers is above all extremely hypocritical and it’s all very reminiscent of the abuses I had to endure in the criminal and family courts as a DV survivor. They sound EXACTLY the same and they’re just as hypocritical as those awful people. I’ve been just debilitated with the mental health effects of their robotic approach to education for days and it’s taken a heavy toll on my husband who already has enough of his own barriers to face each living HOUR of his life.

Today I choose to let the goodness shine in, and I’m working away at all the housework I couldn’t do during last week’s hard and utterly fruitless work. I will be working some more on my book, doing loads of laundry and dishes, letting my poor old therapy dog do her work on me, and thinking of all the people waiting for me to finish university so that I can get out there and be a part of solutions. Psychology school is a much more self-congruent faculty and I just can’t wait to be done with these terribly ironic counselling people. It’s been a horrid experience, letting the wonderful teaching fill me with such joy, then finding that the assessment of all I learned is such a retraumatising experience for anyone who finds it easy to spot abuses of power.