A coma might feel better than this
attempting to discover where to begin
You're weighed down, you're full of something
Of sickness, and desertion.
You're weight down, you're full of something
You're underneath it all.
I'm sitting here wanting to write a post filled with optimism and the positive vibes I've been trying to keep this writing space, but with four weeks of school left and little vision of where my life is headed it's very hard to keep that positivity growing. I've become extremely agitated over the past couple weeks, and dread conversations about grad school, my future, or graduation. I'm back to being pretty bitter. I'm back to shutting myself in my room and off from people if they tell me they're busy. I'm skipping my last few classes of the semester because I feel absolutely no challenge, and at the same time I'm not ready to move on. Even less ready to move on than I was at this time last year. There's nothing to cling to this time. I'm trying to push away from everything and trying to cut away from everything before I feel hurt. Why?
Because graduating means a lot of scary things for me. First of all, all of my support systems have been created through my school. What's going to happen when I graduate? I'm going to be thrown back into the mix of having nothing and nobody. The support systems I have owe me absolutely nothing, if anything I owe them a big portion of my dignity, self-respect, and confidence. When I graduate there will be another student who needs that support, and who needs to have someone that they can do this and to push them in the right direction. And I'm happy for whoever that student is. These people have been like rocks to me, if they know it or not. It's been nice to have someone I can send an email to just so I can take a step back and breathe afterwards. It's been awesome to have someone write me a letter whenever I need it. But come June where does all this go? It's gone.
And what happens if I graduate and I'm not going to a grad school? What if I'm forced to spend my summer (and now spring) at camp and I'm forced to return home? I don't know. I can't even have the disguise of looking for full time work because who's hiring for September now? I don't even know what I can do with my bachelor's degree. As far as I've been convinced by my education, my bachelor's degree is nothing but a useless piece of paper on it's own. My diploma is used to help people get into university, so even that's useless. I don't want to go to my graduation if I'm not going anywhere, because it feels like it'd be nothing more than a celebration of getting nowhere. If I'm not accepted anywhere, I'm going nowhere. How many times I have used the words I don't know.
I'm stuck in this terrifying pool of vulnerability. One that feels very similar to drowning. I don't know where my life is going. I'm absolutely scared out of my mind. Nothing anyone can say is going to bring me comfort. I need to keep going. I need to keep pushing through. I want so badly to put my feet down and sink to the bottom and give up. I want so badly to be done. And at the same time, I don't know a life outside of grad school applications, and outside of being in school at GH.
Tuesday, 4 March 2014
Thursday, 6 February 2014
Dear Meg Jay
Dear Meg Jay,
I recently stumbled upon your Ted Talk on why my 30s are not the new 20s, and while I respect your views, and it may work for some people, I would like to touch on why this is not the case for me.
When I was 12 years old, I was thrown into the whirlwind adventure of growing up too soon. My mom had been institutionalized for a mental health treatment, and my father was working a full time job about an hour away from our house. My brother was 15 (almost 16) years old at the time, and we were faced with the task of taking care of ourselves, and each other, while my mom was in care. My dad did the best he could and my mom called when she was able to. My dad's parents at the time were supportive of providing us with any additional care we needed including a dinner here, or if my dad was going to be super late we went and spent a lot of the night with them.
I'm not here to tell you the peanut butter sandwiches I made for my brother and I made me an adult nor am I going to claim it ruined my life. It was a good thing. While most of the memories I have of this time aren't clear to me, I know that my brother and I knew what we had to do to make my mom's transition home easier. We faced challenges with our family members blaming us for what happened, despite the fact we were the kids in the situation. It's easy to forget the bright moments in these times, and super easy to recall being told because my room was a mess, my mom lost her mind.
When it was close to my mom coming home, my brother and dad attended a session at the care facility she was at that was like a support group, but I was too young for one group and too old for the other. I was in a sense, forced to face this on my own. I chose to not talk about it for many years. I mean, how many people had a mom who was crazy? We found ourselves in a similar situation 3 years later where a new diagnosis was tagged on, and we were faced with challenges again.
I get that many teenagers spent their years going to parties, getting drunk and high, and having a grand old time. I never got to experience a stereotypical high school party. I never made friends with large groups of people. I never got to have a sleepover at my house. However, I did learn what different psychiatric medications did. I learned how to sneak them into jam, and apple sauce, and even peanut butter sandwiches. There was never a "oh she's just a kid" mentality around the situation of me caring for my mother. There was only a "you need to help your mom" mentality. I earned the nickname of nurse, and helped my mom to the best of my ability. She was mom, it's what you do. From my experiences of this, I wanted to get into psychology and help people. So it's not completely a waste of my teen years, but it sure as hell was not a picnic way to spend it either.
I'm sure you can imagine how ecstatic I was to get into university and be able to move away from home. I no longer had to worry about my mom, I could be free to do whatever I wanted. My first and second year grades reflect that wonderfully. I still went home almost every weekend to check in on my family, to make sure things were okay and to keep my mom happy. The summers felt long, but I got through them and I always cried when I had to leave my best friends. After my first year I was one of the most over involved kids in my program. If there was a volunteer opportunity, I took it. I worked my ass off for four years to make a name for myself, and I networked my pants off. I went to a professional conference at the age of 19, and absorbed absolutely none of it because I was too young to know what it was all about. But I had to be an adult, and I had to take these opportunities, because if I didn't some earth shattering thing would happen.
And I appreciate you trying to push my generation to re-claim their adulthood at 20. But in all honesty, I haven't even had the opportunity to be anything but an adult for the past 10 years of my life. I'm constantly being told that I need to be a 20 year old, and not worry. Do you know how many times I went out to the bar last semester? One. On my birthday. Where one person showed up because my mom made me cancel my party the week before because of a fight. I get what you're saying about networking, and expanding our horizons and getting experiences. But when you tell me this, you leave me feeling like I've accomplished shit all. That the 5 page CV I have worked my ass off for four years is never going to be enough.
You made me question if I was enough, if I was doing enough, if I was good enough, when for the past five months there have been people who have built up my confidence to believe I was. The one talk, the one where you make it seem like every 20 year old is being a lazy shit and throwing ten years of their lives away, shattered me. You're suppose to get to go to a bar, and you're suppose to spend your money on a stupid shoe collection. Instead do you know what I do? I spend it on grad school applications. I spend it on moving back to residence because I can't be a student and live at home. I've never been to a club because it's not an "adult" thing to do and it's "irresponsible". I'm regretting having to grow up so quickly.
I sat in tears staring at my computer for hours after I watched your talk (mistakenly at 12:30 am) because I chose to take a year for myself. After four years of dedicating myself and my time to my program, and to others in my school community I chose to be selfish. Because I have ambitions and I have dreams. I came back to my school where none of my friends were anymore to take courses with people I don't know, and to feel like a social isolate moving back home with my parents. You don't understand that sometimes, not doing anything is exactly what you need to do. That the stress and the pressure to be successful and some big shot in my 20s is now what I need.
My type A personality drives me to continue to push myself to be the best that I can be. I constantly need that reminder to take a step back, not a step forward like your talk suggested. I support what your saying. I support what you do. But in all honesty, this is not what every 20 year old needs to hear. I need to hear someone telling me it's okay to let go. It's okay to be upset at the world today. It's totally cool if I decide I don't want to work six days a week - it's not going to ruin my life. I don't need to get a job in my field right away, I can work my way up to it. Sometimes I need to grow down. Sometimes I need to remind myself it's okay if my 30s are going to be my new 20s, especially if I'm going to have a Ph. D in my hand when I get there.
With respect,
Amanda
I recently stumbled upon your Ted Talk on why my 30s are not the new 20s, and while I respect your views, and it may work for some people, I would like to touch on why this is not the case for me.
When I was 12 years old, I was thrown into the whirlwind adventure of growing up too soon. My mom had been institutionalized for a mental health treatment, and my father was working a full time job about an hour away from our house. My brother was 15 (almost 16) years old at the time, and we were faced with the task of taking care of ourselves, and each other, while my mom was in care. My dad did the best he could and my mom called when she was able to. My dad's parents at the time were supportive of providing us with any additional care we needed including a dinner here, or if my dad was going to be super late we went and spent a lot of the night with them.
I'm not here to tell you the peanut butter sandwiches I made for my brother and I made me an adult nor am I going to claim it ruined my life. It was a good thing. While most of the memories I have of this time aren't clear to me, I know that my brother and I knew what we had to do to make my mom's transition home easier. We faced challenges with our family members blaming us for what happened, despite the fact we were the kids in the situation. It's easy to forget the bright moments in these times, and super easy to recall being told because my room was a mess, my mom lost her mind.
When it was close to my mom coming home, my brother and dad attended a session at the care facility she was at that was like a support group, but I was too young for one group and too old for the other. I was in a sense, forced to face this on my own. I chose to not talk about it for many years. I mean, how many people had a mom who was crazy? We found ourselves in a similar situation 3 years later where a new diagnosis was tagged on, and we were faced with challenges again.
I get that many teenagers spent their years going to parties, getting drunk and high, and having a grand old time. I never got to experience a stereotypical high school party. I never made friends with large groups of people. I never got to have a sleepover at my house. However, I did learn what different psychiatric medications did. I learned how to sneak them into jam, and apple sauce, and even peanut butter sandwiches. There was never a "oh she's just a kid" mentality around the situation of me caring for my mother. There was only a "you need to help your mom" mentality. I earned the nickname of nurse, and helped my mom to the best of my ability. She was mom, it's what you do. From my experiences of this, I wanted to get into psychology and help people. So it's not completely a waste of my teen years, but it sure as hell was not a picnic way to spend it either.
I'm sure you can imagine how ecstatic I was to get into university and be able to move away from home. I no longer had to worry about my mom, I could be free to do whatever I wanted. My first and second year grades reflect that wonderfully. I still went home almost every weekend to check in on my family, to make sure things were okay and to keep my mom happy. The summers felt long, but I got through them and I always cried when I had to leave my best friends. After my first year I was one of the most over involved kids in my program. If there was a volunteer opportunity, I took it. I worked my ass off for four years to make a name for myself, and I networked my pants off. I went to a professional conference at the age of 19, and absorbed absolutely none of it because I was too young to know what it was all about. But I had to be an adult, and I had to take these opportunities, because if I didn't some earth shattering thing would happen.
And I appreciate you trying to push my generation to re-claim their adulthood at 20. But in all honesty, I haven't even had the opportunity to be anything but an adult for the past 10 years of my life. I'm constantly being told that I need to be a 20 year old, and not worry. Do you know how many times I went out to the bar last semester? One. On my birthday. Where one person showed up because my mom made me cancel my party the week before because of a fight. I get what you're saying about networking, and expanding our horizons and getting experiences. But when you tell me this, you leave me feeling like I've accomplished shit all. That the 5 page CV I have worked my ass off for four years is never going to be enough.
You made me question if I was enough, if I was doing enough, if I was good enough, when for the past five months there have been people who have built up my confidence to believe I was. The one talk, the one where you make it seem like every 20 year old is being a lazy shit and throwing ten years of their lives away, shattered me. You're suppose to get to go to a bar, and you're suppose to spend your money on a stupid shoe collection. Instead do you know what I do? I spend it on grad school applications. I spend it on moving back to residence because I can't be a student and live at home. I've never been to a club because it's not an "adult" thing to do and it's "irresponsible". I'm regretting having to grow up so quickly.
I sat in tears staring at my computer for hours after I watched your talk (mistakenly at 12:30 am) because I chose to take a year for myself. After four years of dedicating myself and my time to my program, and to others in my school community I chose to be selfish. Because I have ambitions and I have dreams. I came back to my school where none of my friends were anymore to take courses with people I don't know, and to feel like a social isolate moving back home with my parents. You don't understand that sometimes, not doing anything is exactly what you need to do. That the stress and the pressure to be successful and some big shot in my 20s is now what I need.
My type A personality drives me to continue to push myself to be the best that I can be. I constantly need that reminder to take a step back, not a step forward like your talk suggested. I support what your saying. I support what you do. But in all honesty, this is not what every 20 year old needs to hear. I need to hear someone telling me it's okay to let go. It's okay to be upset at the world today. It's totally cool if I decide I don't want to work six days a week - it's not going to ruin my life. I don't need to get a job in my field right away, I can work my way up to it. Sometimes I need to grow down. Sometimes I need to remind myself it's okay if my 30s are going to be my new 20s, especially if I'm going to have a Ph. D in my hand when I get there.
With respect,
Amanda
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