I hate saying that I'm in college because it sounds so pretentious. It wouldn't be pretentious if I were an actual college student going to a four year university or at least joining at the same time as everyone else, but ever since I started going this year, while everyone else is still a junior and attending pep rallies and football games, I've felt a crippling sense of anxiety as I enter through the doors of high school. I feel as if everyone knows how pompous I've been acting ever since attending college, and that is one of my greatest fears. I wouldn't want to go back to spending 6 periods a day at high school. It just wasn't for me. Lack luster work, gossip, and revolting amounts of ignorance. I didn't sign up for that. But I had a routine. I knew what I was getting into every day. I knew who I would sit by at lunch, I knew who I would see every morning before first period when I skipped class and slept under Jatos's bookshelf, and I knew my job and position as a student and a person in high school. College is so surreal to me because you are utterly and completely independent. Instead of social outings and ignoring your responsibilities to hang out with as many people as you can, the norm is that you're there to succeed and do your own thing. No one yells "Grace! We missed you," when I walk into college algebra. I have no one to complain to about pesky privileged white boys that think they know more about the women in a women's studies class. My sole purpose is to succeed and pass by. Every term, just slowly moving and progressing.
I don't think I've ever had as much instability with my emotions and my mental health than I did my first term of college. After three months I had gone from a social being who knew everyone and was able to engage with anybody, to a depressed, numb, and antisocial being. All I did on a day to day basis was stay at home and either finish document analysis's or procrastinate reading my textbook chapters. I didn't go out anymore. I pushed and distanced myself from those who I used to tolerate because I was afraid of my flaws. I used to think that I hated everyone. I was never able to find someone that I could engage with 24/7 because something would always throw me off. They either talked too much, laughed at everything I said, kissed my ass, were too nice, were too shitty, or whatever else I could think of. After I went to several counseling appointments, I started to wonder if it was really their flaws I was worried about. I wondered if maybe the person I had worked so hard to become, the person that didn't need anyone but herself to survive, was really too worried that no on would want her. I held people at an arms distance because I knew that they would grow uncomfortable with my angry antics, my dying need for acceptance and to be liked by others. And so I pushed. And by the end of all of it I had succeeded at fueling an unhealthy relationship with the one person who could stand to be around me. I accomplished ignoring everyone who ever wanted to be inside my bubble all because I was unconsciously terrified that they wouldn't accept me in the first place. On top of all this I overestimated my capability of juggling extracurricular activities and college classes taught by professors who wear man sandals and don' know how to properly explain Pythagorean theorem. It was one of the hardest times of my life. I found myself in an environment where I wasn't the most intellectual. In fact, two boys who silently snickered at my frustration with completing the square were smarter than me, which is my other biggest fear. I was in a situation I had never experienced. Feeling powerless and underestimated. I have since been going to my counselor, a wonderful plump short woman who wears shiny black clogs and bright red dresses. She calls me "babe" at the end of every empowering or supportive piece of advice. I love her. I'm hoping that my mental health gains the innocence it had in my freshman and sophomore year of high school. Things are getting better every day, and I'm learning how to handle the times when they're not.
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AuthorGrace Willcox. High school student. Likes to think of herself as cunning & witty. Probably isn't. Enjoy. Archives
March 2017
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