As I write this, I’m en route to Bristol for a training day. As Pete waved me off from the bus station, I remembered just how hard it was when I lived in Bristol, so far away from everyone. At this point in the journey, I’d still have been crying, utterly distraught that I’d have to wait weeks before having a big hug from Peter, weeks before being able to snuggle with him on the sofa watching TV. Long distance relationships are hard. When you live so close to each other, you can see one another if something’s wrong, comfort each other. When you live at opposite ends of the country, you don’t have that. Every visit home was tainted by the knowledge that soon I’d be back in Bristol, alone in a small room, staring at four walls and missing home. And I just feel so so glad that I decided to move back home.
Since moving home, I have been able to spend so much time with Pete and my family, which has been lovely. I’ve been on lots of Pokemon adventures, had countless visits to the seaside and just enjoyed having everyone around. Most importantly though, I’ve not felt that gut-wrenching loneliness that I always used to feel in Bristol. Bristol is a beautiful city, and I do feel very lucky that I’m able to do my PhD at the university. But I’m so glad that I’m doing it in my own way, in a way that’s best for my mental health!
OCD, the PhD and Me 