Many people around my age wonder who they are, what their future holds, or what their place in the grand scheme of life is. Recently (it began in August of 2013), I began the journey that was College. I applied to a wonderful university, found the campus to be just beautiful, and the tuition to be insanely outrageous. But I only did it because I thought it was what would make someone else happy: Mom and Dad. The longer I endured this new journey, the more miserable I was.
This semester, I had a roommate for all of two weeks and then. . . Well, the empty bed is just another reminder of my misery. It isn't like I came with a "doom and gloom" attitude. The first few weeks were amazing. So much to do, so many people... Then it seemed like I had an unwanted blast from the past, and it threw me off kilter. I really began skipping classes after that, so much so to the point that I failed what would have been my best subject. I had to take these survey courses that I didn't really care about (Intro to the Old and New Testaments). They were interesting enough, but it never really went beyond a "Oh look! History!" kind of interest.
Worst of all, it seemed like nobody back home really understood. I'd swept my "blast from the past" under the proverbial rug as best as I knew how. And I felt like I was beginning to get over it...but everything came crashing back. I had a small prescription for a narcotic that would calm me down when it got to be too much. The biggest problem I had with that was that this drug also put me to sleep.
Now, everyone says that I shouldn't let it define me, but its hard not to because its such a huge part of my life. Think of life like a road map:
The "normal" experiences are represented by straight, smooth highways. The "bumpy" experiences are curves that vary in degree, depending on the severity of the experience. Now, the worst experiences are being pulled over.
This not only had me pulled over, they were doing a drug search in my car! It was a nightmare! But no one understood that. My mother offered support, but she told me I had to keep going to class because if I just sat around and did nothing, it would consume me. My father wondered why I was unable to let it go. Don't get me wrong, I love my parents, but they don't always give the kind of support I need.
Now, because of how miserable I am, I'm leaving this campus and dropping to a class a semester, and that's only because I have a deal with my father.
Its amazing how this journey got so flipped around.
Who Am I?
*Author's Note:
No, I'm not going to divulge what happened to shake me up like that. Its still a much too real thing I deal with every day. And I'm not saying that to be mean, just to let the people who would comment asking "What happened?" know that I'm not at a place right now where I can discuss it (mentally).
