Dear 2020
We're over halfway through you now, and a phrase I keep on hearing is how much people wish they hadn't bothered staying up until midnight on New Year's Eve to welcome you here. I was one of many who did stay up, with two old school friends, and we'd watched the fireworks and raised our glasses and sang along to Auld Lang Syne terribly out of tune. I have an odd relationship with New Year's anyway, a clashing of sadness and happiness, at one year ending and a new one beginning. I've never liked endings, you see. But I cheered and wished good wishes with the rest of them, and I went to bed wishing for a good year, a good decade. But what's happened so far has been really rather different. I should have written off this year in January. My best friend Lauren once wrote off a year just six days in (with very good reason) and looking back, I think I could have done the same. January brought me crippling anxiety and panic attacks as I prepared to sit my final uni...