Alright, Williamson, you can do this - you're just going back to school, no big deal, I try to convince myself, out of breath: my throat was so narrow that I could barely breathe, while panic attacks were lurking, only seconds away.
Deciding to go back to London after whatever happened, only to take two years off in order to travel the world and make my peace with it, might as well has been simultaneously the best and worst idea I ever had. The University of Cambridge does hold many renowned masters programs, including in psychology, so the choice was actually never hard - but at this exact moment, as I am standing right in front of the main entrance, I have never been so anxious in my entire life - what if I can't do this at all ?
Little did I know that somebody was right behind me, and when that person speaks, I jump a little, turning around, surprised:
"That school ain't gonna eat you girl" a tall blonde says, smirking. Openly making fun of me for being so dramatic, the girl adds: "If you're also following the masters in psychology, then my name's Jill, I'm Dutch, and, as you can see, I never take anything seriously."
This actually makes me smile a little.
"Leah" I concede, shaking her hand dramatically, as we both laugh. Feeling like she would be the kind of person I could very easily be friends with, I add: "Will you be my emotional support dog? 'Cause I'm having anxiety attacks."
"Ugh, sure - but you're paying coffee then."
Nodding my head, I follow Jill inside the building, as we eventually find the right room where our first class was taking place in.
The next following hours - aka, the rest of the day - Jill proved to be beyond helpful: other than showing me around and making me laugh the whole time, she also introduced me to her best friend, a French girl named Kadidiatou Diana, but who prefers to just be called 'Kady'. The three of us would then go on talking about our lives - or at least the part I could talk to them about, of course - and getting to know each other. When classes are finally over, Kady offers to serve us free drinks in the bar in which she has been working since she came to England - and, not knowing many people here in London, I gladly accepted.
When we are sitting at the bar with Jill, facing Kady, the latter shamelessly asks:
"So, Williamson, how come we've never seen you around if you've been living for years in our beautiful city, uh?"
Taking a deep breath, I quickly answer:
"I've been travelling the past two years, that might explain why"
They both nod.
"Makes sense" Jill confirms, before raising her glass and adding: "cheers to new encounters then, and to the best year of our lives yet!"
I drink mine bottoms up, knowing very well that coming back to England was never going to be easy - there were too many traumas that even therapy would never be able to erase. Sighing, I just try to enjoy the rest of the night, but as soon as I come back home to my spacious apartment with a magnificent view on Big Ben and its wheel, I burst into tears.
You're gonna be okay - everything's gonna be okay..., I think to myself, very well knowing that I couldn't believe any of those words...
***
Jill Roord
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