Immunity : Unfiltered

There’s a strange hush that settles in the days between Christmas and New Year. Time goes syrupy. The house smells faintly of yesterday. You don’t quite know what day it is, and honestly you don’t care. Twixtmas lives in the cracks. A pause. A limbo. A holding breath. It’s always in this space that I start thinking about what comes next. This year, that thinking has been quieter but deeper. Less fireworks, more foundations. I’ve applied formally for the courses I want to do. I’ve also applied to study further beyond that. I’ve looked at every realistic route: distance learning , for Autumn next year, my first-choice university, the Open University . I’ve cast my net wide. Not because I don’t know what I want, but because I do know how fragile the word “allowed” can become when you’re chronically ill . I also know that I am making the right choice, and no matter what, I am NOT giving up on my childhood dream! 😁📚 🏺 When you become chronically ill, what you “deserve” to aim for b...

This weekend my uncle and cousin came down to visit, and the house instantly filled with that lovely, cozy kind of chaos that only family brings. My cousin isn’t technically “little” anymore, but she’ll always feel that way to me. I still see her as 9 years old, and super weird. She’s studying criminology at Swansea at the moment, so naturally we spent half the weekend discussing unhinged case theories and laughing at things that probably shouldn’t be funny. She’s got this incredibly dry, whip-smart sense of humour that feels like a family trait… which is charming and... Possibly slightly worrying in equal measure.  Now, in the spirit of weird family traditions... We played the game. It's a family tradition.  The rules are simple:  * Budget of £5 * 1 hour max in each shop. (though honestly nowadays it's a sweep browse and that's it!) *Bring back the ✨ Boujiest   ✨ thing you can find. Like :  "Rob the joint, stolen from a country-manor, what in the Lara Croft...

 There’s something about December that seems to give relatives a free pass to ask questions they would never dare to voice in July. You step through the door, still peeling off your coat, and suddenly it’s an open-mic night for unsolicited opinions. “Why did you become vegetarian ?” “Got a boyfriend yet?” “When are you going to settle down properly?” “Are you sure you should be studying that?” " BUT IT'S CHRISTMAS! YOU CAN EAT A FEW EXTRA CALORIES!" "Are you sure you should be eating THAT much? remember when you were really fat last year"  It’s the festive equivalent of being cornered by a committee you never applied to join. Let’s be honest: Christmas visits are rarely simple, especially when you’re navigating chronic illness , recovery arcs , or just plain old self-development . The season is wrapped in tinsel, but the emotional labour underneath can feel like lifting a piano with one hand. It's brutal.  Why Boundaries Matter Now More Than Ever ...

There’s a particular kind of madness that descends on any uni campus after Reading Week . One moment you’re blinking at your timetable, convinced there’s still all the time in the world; the next, the assignments are marching toward you like an invading army, each demanding attention, structure, citations, and some semblance of intellectual composure. It basically is " Plato's Cave " ... But more widespread... Honestly the collective ICK could be felt, and for me, well It's been a while, so all I had was doubt! haha I call this season The November Scaries . And honestly? I did not expect to make it through. Even at half the workload of a traditional student, it has been a lot. Not just academically, but emotionally. I came into this course as someone who hadn’t studied in years, someone who assumed their mind had rusted over at the hinges. Someone carrying far more than just notebooks and pens into the classroom. Trauma has a strange way of slipping into the readi...