What school is like now

I actually had to go back before I wrote this blog post to look at how much I had written this summer.

It is the eve before my sophomore year of university.

What I was going to say, is that this summer, I didn’t write a lot. Well that’s actually not true. It’s lot more than I thought; it’s a lot more than I remember, and it must be because this summer has actually been pretty long, extended. It had its eras. The fact that it started in May is helping too. 60 blog posts I counted. How I even had that many ideas, I don’t know. Kind-of shocked and terrified myself.

But in reality, what I wanted to say is that before this summer…well this summer…I experienced hardships unlike ever before. Yeah I was scared about school last semester. But it was nothing like how scared I became over the summer and am right now, and how it made me feel. It plagued my mental health. It has taken over. It has turned this joyous thing that was my greatest goal, ambition, and desire in life (school, education, career, university, degrees) into something…not happy. I really don’t know how to even describe it in any other way except that. I used to burn and yearn for school, it was my thing, and now it just feels awful. This feeling of dread that I have felt all summer and now right before the school year is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. It is unparalleled.

For background, I started feeling this way in June. Well actually, when school just let out, more specifically when final exams let out, May 10th I believe it was, the day that I moved out from my first year at university: whoo?!

I was feeling pretty high. I felt pretty sad about leaving my friends and was having withdrawal symptoms from them, but I was also really happy I took and made the wonderful opportunities that were our last hangouts and seeing each other. It was really a special time. It was fun, it was epic, we made it memorable. I recall it now as a warm, fuzzy, good time.

So the beginning of summer was great. I made the most of it. I was so happy and excited to see my friends back home, I started to hangout with them right away, and we made so many fun plans and had just a good time.

Thinking back I think subconsciously I knew my fears but I repressed them and held them back. I was having a grand old time. Yes I knew I was scared, but I also knew it was summer, time to let go, finally relax, finally have time. I think I knew even as I was taking those exams at the time how screwed I was, but I refused to care. The weather was more to my taste. The sun was shining so that was lifting my spirits. And the prospects of the things ahead of in the summer, however also terrifying in their own ways, were only thrilling me, giving me so much to live for. That’s really a good way of describing it. Not just to look forward to, no, it was more than that; to live for.

I started feeling an unquenchable crushing heavy sense of dread beginning June. Not quite. First it was an exciting wedding and then a quick Texas trip which was awesome. So up until this point, summer was awesome. And then…it’s like I knew…

I started talking about it more, thinking about it more. The day I got that email was horrible. I don’t know what was worse, that day or the days following. Or the days leading up to it. Maybe that whole week? My friends noticed it. I was just in bed all day. “You seem really…sad. I can tell you’re really sad.” Well frick, didn’t have enough energy to hide it for once. Couldn’t hide it or keep it hidden from my mom too, at all. Or anyone for that matter. Anyone could see it, plain and clear as day. I had no energy sucked out or left to fake it. Nor do I like faking.

I wasn’t even excited for summer anymore. For the things that were bringing me so much joy. Just wanted to cancel them. Didn’t want to do it.

Everyday and for every great big thing I did, I felt like I was forcing/dragging myself to do it but I did not want to. All for a sense of holding it together, keeping it put together, and appearing that way. All because it’s too painful, for me, to see myself fall apart. But it was no match for how I felt inside. I thought for sure, it would make me feel better. And did it make me feel better? This forcing? In some ways I am glad that I did what I did. I learned a lot from some experiences. In others…again I don’t know if forcing yourself like that, at a time of need, helps. I want to say it does…perhaps it would be easier to be in denial if it helps…but it really doesn’t.

I had some great big distractions from that point until the end of summer. Then once the last trip of the summer was over, though, all there was left to think about was school. And here we are now. Fall. Tuesday, September 2nd. The sense of doom has not stopped since I got back from my trip. That June unmotivation was back, this time for preparing for school in any way at all. Which is why the day before I had to move in, I had to pack and prepare and do everything. I simply couldn’t make myself do it sooner (and as I have learned, that does not help) though it made that day and whole experience horrible. Left a weird mood as I was moving in. I felt very rushed because I did not allow myself to feel anything but numbness and then full on rushness. With the sense of urgency, I was trying to frantically pull myself to appear together in some shape or form, all a lie. Because generally, I would want to over prepare, to be slow and calm and have time. I did it now allow it. I could not allow it? For better or for worse?

It’s like I did and didn’t learn that lesson of force all at the same time. On one hand I didn’t force myself. Good? But looking back at the consequences maybe I should have. I just also didn’t realize, at the time, how much I had left for the last minute. Not just packing, but preparing in other maintenance ways.

Notice how again, semester is starting up, things will not get easier, time will get more avading, and here I am, writing more than ever. Of course, this is when the tide of words has to come in. Emotion. When you feel the most. I could keep writing right now, but I have to go to bed. Get enough sleep for my first day.

I do not wish to plague or complain. I try not to talk about it, even though it plagues me. Wish me luck for this semester, for it could change everything and I need it. In denial but tired.

So along with the stereotypes blog post that I will try to upload at the same time as this one, school is not what it used to be. And stereotypes made me “hate” all things girly, just how this stupid program is sucking the life out of something that used to be fun for me, make me happy, and be my thing.

The fall arc starts now. The sad fall/winter music playlist being busted out starts NOW. Sad girl is equipped and ready (and also so not ready) for the semester.

I could be walking happy to classes tomorrow, ready and happy to learn, not too bad of worry in the world, but NoOOoO, all I have to do now is worry about grades. How I hate grades. Every little grade, every little point. Focusing on the details I hate so much. That don’t matter. Except this, could mess up my entire future.