Wednesday, August 25, 2004
My August 25th
Things have just been weighing me down a bit more than usual lately. Mix that in with the fact that I have clinical depression (or whatever you want to call it), and you get a bad combination.
Actually, I almost became buoyant today. At 11 a.m. I met with a social worker/psychologist who works for the school. I got referred to her by an academic advising dean last year after I had bawled my eyes out for two hours in his office one day. I had met with the social worker every other week last year. I think she really helped me get through the year. I felt like she was one of the only people who wouldn't judge me, or criticize me, or tell me to go away. She nodded to everything I said. She understood. She rolled her eyes in anger or sneered in disgust when I'd share a bad experience I had. It was empathy at its best. So when I felt like the whole world was against me, she proved to me that at least one person wasn't. And one person can make a world of a difference.
Today she just wanted to check up and see if I'm doing OK since we hadn't touched base all summer. She was wonderful and nice, as usual, but she told me that she can't keep seeing me like she did last year. :-\ She has to free herself up for the new students who might need her. Totally fair enough. I'm going to miss the one hour every other week I got to spend with her. That one hour I could look forward to and be assured that it would be pleasant. I get a bit jittery thinking that I don't have that one hour to look forward to anymore... Maybe this is just a part of growing up and moving on and dealing with things on my own... I don't know.
I got to talk to her about the situation with my friend a little bit. She suggested that I give it some time. I need to let my feelings of hurt and betrayal subside a bit before I can deal with the whole situation in a level-headed way.
After that I met with my new faculty advisor. It's awful to stereotype, but I was a bit apprehensive going into it. He's in the English department. He teaches Shakespeare among other things. He got his B.A. from Harvard and a Masters from Yale. Ugh, you know how some of those ivy-league intellectuals can be. They get all into quoting scholars and talking about theories. Oh ma lawrd... Well I was a bit worried. But I can look back and laugh, and that's good. He was a little "ivy," a little (lot) intellectual, kind of dry and stuffy, but he was nice. He had no problem with the fact that I was taking a bunch of science classes even though I want to pursue a project in the humanities. That was a huge relief to me. The last thing I wanted to deal with was another person telling me what to do. He got really into talking about my academic background and what I want to do in college and all that blah, and at some point (this took some guts) I just sort of cut him off.
"I don't mean to be rude, and I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but I actually was kind of hoping just to get to know you and to share a little about myself in this meeting."
He blinked, and sort of smiled.
"I'll have plenty of time to think about my project and my goals, and all that. To be honest, I don't have anything too worked out yet, and I just thought it would be nice if we started by getting to know each other."
Woah. What a relief. He agreed and told me about himself. Most of his story was about where he studied, what he studied, and now what he teaches. I hope that in the future I don't let myself become defined by those things. I told him about my ancestry, where I had lived, my family, and just other random tidbits about my life. It felt so good just to be honest, and upfront. It felt so good just to talk about who I am, rather than what I want to be, or how I want to be, or pretending to kiss up to someone who can get me there. I was me, plain and simple with no strings attached. I don't know. It just went so well. It was my first taste of being comfortable in my skin, for who I am, and for what I am now, nothing else. It was wonderful. I floated out of his office on cloud number nine.
I then met up for lunch with a friend I made last semester. She doesn't have a meal plan, so I bought her lunch. It was nice to finally get to do something good for someone else. We then went to the college bookstore where I dished out $340 for my textbooks, and I still have to go back and buy some more... Ugh. She then gave me a tour of her dorm, which supposedly used to be an insane asylum. Goodness. It was a really nice dorm. New furniture, nice bathrooms, new carpeting (I think?), newly painted walls. It was just a whole lot more decent than mine. Oh well. I had a great time being a little social.
I would have gladly called it a day at that point, it was good, and I wanted a good day for once. But all the while I was having fun, a surprise was awaiting me. When I got back to my dorm, my room was unlocked. Hmm, I could have sworn I had locked it. I opened the door, and the first thing I noticed was that the dresser and bookshelf had been moved. I took a few slow steps into my room, and then I noticed someone sleeping on the other bed. He woke up. Hi new roommate.
Uuugh. I was so bummed. This room was originally intended to be a single, which was made into a double. My original roommate never showed up, and I was really hoping that I'd just get this single-turned-double all to myself. In past four days I've spent here I really got used to living alone. I could stay up as late as I want. I could keep the room well lit at night. I could play music. It was so comfy.
Well, the guy is cool. He's a senior who took a year off, which would make him three years older than me. He's from Boston. He's in engineering. He seems quiet, and pretty polite, but ehhhh. He went to bed at 8:30 p.m. tonight. By comparison, I went to bed at 1:30 a.m. last night. So all the freedom I had grown so accustomed to was stripped away from me just like that. At 8:30 p.m. I had to turn off the lights. I had to put on my ear phones to listen to music. I had to leave the room to talk on the phone. I had to shut the curtains.
The thing is, I did this for a full year last year. I couldn't stand it. I could never read myself to sleep. I could never let the soft sounds of my music fill the room. I had to feel bad if someone called me too late or too early. Someone could look over my shoulder and always see what I was doing. To me, there's just something so comforting about having time and a place to myself, and how crappy is it if I can't feel comfortable in my very own room? Oh the joys of college life.
Actually, I almost became buoyant today. At 11 a.m. I met with a social worker/psychologist who works for the school. I got referred to her by an academic advising dean last year after I had bawled my eyes out for two hours in his office one day. I had met with the social worker every other week last year. I think she really helped me get through the year. I felt like she was one of the only people who wouldn't judge me, or criticize me, or tell me to go away. She nodded to everything I said. She understood. She rolled her eyes in anger or sneered in disgust when I'd share a bad experience I had. It was empathy at its best. So when I felt like the whole world was against me, she proved to me that at least one person wasn't. And one person can make a world of a difference.
Today she just wanted to check up and see if I'm doing OK since we hadn't touched base all summer. She was wonderful and nice, as usual, but she told me that she can't keep seeing me like she did last year. :-\ She has to free herself up for the new students who might need her. Totally fair enough. I'm going to miss the one hour every other week I got to spend with her. That one hour I could look forward to and be assured that it would be pleasant. I get a bit jittery thinking that I don't have that one hour to look forward to anymore... Maybe this is just a part of growing up and moving on and dealing with things on my own... I don't know.
I got to talk to her about the situation with my friend a little bit. She suggested that I give it some time. I need to let my feelings of hurt and betrayal subside a bit before I can deal with the whole situation in a level-headed way.
After that I met with my new faculty advisor. It's awful to stereotype, but I was a bit apprehensive going into it. He's in the English department. He teaches Shakespeare among other things. He got his B.A. from Harvard and a Masters from Yale. Ugh, you know how some of those ivy-league intellectuals can be. They get all into quoting scholars and talking about theories. Oh ma lawrd... Well I was a bit worried. But I can look back and laugh, and that's good. He was a little "ivy," a little (lot) intellectual, kind of dry and stuffy, but he was nice. He had no problem with the fact that I was taking a bunch of science classes even though I want to pursue a project in the humanities. That was a huge relief to me. The last thing I wanted to deal with was another person telling me what to do. He got really into talking about my academic background and what I want to do in college and all that blah, and at some point (this took some guts) I just sort of cut him off.
"I don't mean to be rude, and I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but I actually was kind of hoping just to get to know you and to share a little about myself in this meeting."
He blinked, and sort of smiled.
"I'll have plenty of time to think about my project and my goals, and all that. To be honest, I don't have anything too worked out yet, and I just thought it would be nice if we started by getting to know each other."
Woah. What a relief. He agreed and told me about himself. Most of his story was about where he studied, what he studied, and now what he teaches. I hope that in the future I don't let myself become defined by those things. I told him about my ancestry, where I had lived, my family, and just other random tidbits about my life. It felt so good just to be honest, and upfront. It felt so good just to talk about who I am, rather than what I want to be, or how I want to be, or pretending to kiss up to someone who can get me there. I was me, plain and simple with no strings attached. I don't know. It just went so well. It was my first taste of being comfortable in my skin, for who I am, and for what I am now, nothing else. It was wonderful. I floated out of his office on cloud number nine.
I then met up for lunch with a friend I made last semester. She doesn't have a meal plan, so I bought her lunch. It was nice to finally get to do something good for someone else. We then went to the college bookstore where I dished out $340 for my textbooks, and I still have to go back and buy some more... Ugh. She then gave me a tour of her dorm, which supposedly used to be an insane asylum. Goodness. It was a really nice dorm. New furniture, nice bathrooms, new carpeting (I think?), newly painted walls. It was just a whole lot more decent than mine. Oh well. I had a great time being a little social.
I would have gladly called it a day at that point, it was good, and I wanted a good day for once. But all the while I was having fun, a surprise was awaiting me. When I got back to my dorm, my room was unlocked. Hmm, I could have sworn I had locked it. I opened the door, and the first thing I noticed was that the dresser and bookshelf had been moved. I took a few slow steps into my room, and then I noticed someone sleeping on the other bed. He woke up. Hi new roommate.
Uuugh. I was so bummed. This room was originally intended to be a single, which was made into a double. My original roommate never showed up, and I was really hoping that I'd just get this single-turned-double all to myself. In past four days I've spent here I really got used to living alone. I could stay up as late as I want. I could keep the room well lit at night. I could play music. It was so comfy.
Well, the guy is cool. He's a senior who took a year off, which would make him three years older than me. He's from Boston. He's in engineering. He seems quiet, and pretty polite, but ehhhh. He went to bed at 8:30 p.m. tonight. By comparison, I went to bed at 1:30 a.m. last night. So all the freedom I had grown so accustomed to was stripped away from me just like that. At 8:30 p.m. I had to turn off the lights. I had to put on my ear phones to listen to music. I had to leave the room to talk on the phone. I had to shut the curtains.
The thing is, I did this for a full year last year. I couldn't stand it. I could never read myself to sleep. I could never let the soft sounds of my music fill the room. I had to feel bad if someone called me too late or too early. Someone could look over my shoulder and always see what I was doing. To me, there's just something so comforting about having time and a place to myself, and how crappy is it if I can't feel comfortable in my very own room? Oh the joys of college life.
