Sunday, April 5, 2015

Conversations with my past self.

Sometimes I wonder if moving back home was the right decision.
I know staying where I was was the wrong one, and I had no where else to go.
I think the ultimate downfall was trying to go to school for Psychology. The year I moved home, I had anxiety, but I was functioning. I babysat for the year, and then in August of 2009, I returned to school. It was so bizarre, because everything fell into place, when I didn't think it would.
I didn't have a car, let alone a license. SUNY B is 27 miles (approx 35 minutes) away from me. I lived in the suburbs so I didn't know how to take the city bus, although I later learned that my mother could drop me off at a stop on her way to work downtown, even though it was an hour long bus ride to and from, it worked out. I also found a woman who lived in the next town over who worked out in B-port and did a car pool for SUNY B kids, and only charged $1 each way. $2 a day, same price as the bus. And I found a woman who did in home daycare in my town who's son was also in pre school at the time. It all seemed to be lining up...
But then I started failing tests. I'd ace a paper or essay or story, no problem, but every single multiple choice exam I was given, I bombed. I was devastated because I thought I was doing good. I studied and read and tried so hard to pay attention to the lectures (which was not easy because I have ADD and I've never been medicated, when I should have been...) but no matter what, it wasn't enough. All of these upper level courses were killing me... until they almost did. I lasted one year at SUNY, and month into my third semester, and I ended up in the psych ward. I just couldn't handle it. I wished I could, but I couldn't. And then I was too embarrassed to go back and face my professors and classmates, so I dropped out. And you wanna know what the last straw was? The girl who pushed me over the edge? In my English Literature class, we had a group project to read and try to interpret a poem about this man who murdered his wife, but it was in such old English, it made no sense. So, I googled it on my phone. I read a loud one part of what I found, and this stupid cunt turns to me and said, "Was that really necessary?" And I just looked at her like, "I was just trying to help..." And she rolled her eyes at me, and I just sat there and fought back the tears, fought back the urge to grab my bag and leave. I didn't say a word the rest of the class. And I never went back. I took what she said personally, like she was calling ME unnecessary. I don't know why she reacted like that, or
That's when I stopped believing in myself. I allowed those tests to define my abilities, not just in school, but in life.