by Axtech » 9/23/2004, 12:23 pm
***NOTICE***
Please read this. I know this is long, but it's very important to me that you read this. If you read only one post I ever write, make it this one.
***NOTICE***
Where to start? I guess the beginning is as good a place as any.
School started a week ago Monday. I was excited and nervous, as is to be expected. By the time I got home, however, I was completely and utterly overwhelmed. I was stressed, and trying to get everything done at once. Finally I kind of broke down, talked it out with my parents, and was ready to continue on and start the next day.
The next day wasn't any better, however. I kept getting worse and worse. I found myself worrying about every little thing, no matter how insignificant or far off in the future. By the third or fourth day, I was having panic attacks and couldn't stop agonizing over everything.
I visited the school counsillor, who got me an appointment for that Friday with a "Learning Strategist", who was going to help me plan out how I was going to do the work, so that I could see it could be done.
You see, I know logically that I can handle the work. But there was this agonizing force inside me causing me to get stressed out beyond any level I thought was possible.
I got to the point where I was litterally wrenching my hands and pulling my hair. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep. Worst of all, I still don't really know why. Again, I know logically that all of this University stuff, particularily first year, is more than manageable.
However, I couldn't seem to get past this "stress".
I began seeing a counsillor outside of school, hoping to find a way to get over it. Unfortunately, of course, there's no way to snap my fingers and get better.
In the meantime, I had been talking to Pudd at school, and he also tried to help. Thanks man, but it's gotten way beyond my control.
This weekend was horrible. I spent two solid days (took Saturday off work) in agony, not eating, barely sleeping, trying to decide what the hell I was going to do. The counsillor suggested that I consider the possibility of taking the year off school. There's nothing wrong with taking a year off, etc, etc.
But I didn't want to give up. I spent the weekend (and much of the week before) having dangerous mood swings. One minute I'd be happy and joking around and ready to take on the world, the next I was depressed, panicy, and would just as soon have crawled under a rock and died.
You see, all my life I've known that I wanted to go to University. I got good grades in public school, and in high school. It was the clear path. Smart people go to university after high school. Period. When asked if I wanted to do something else (back when I was applying to university), it never even crossed my mind that I could possibly do anything else.
All my life it never mattered how few friends I had, how fat I was, or how completely socially inept I was, because I was smart. That's my thing, if you will. It completely tore me up inside to even consider not going to university. That's just what smart people do. That's what I've always expected to do. Worse, I feel like that what I've always been expected to do.
With this dilema weighing heavily on my mind (more heavily than I could have ever imagined), I went back to school on Monday. My five hour break between classes was horrible, and I couldn't stay there. My dad picked me up, and then drove me back for my afternoon classes. By the time I'd finished my last classes on Monday, I was feeling pretty good. Really good, in fact. I was ready to take on university and the world.
But by supper I my mood swung yet again, and I was into another depression. I had another appointment with the councillor that night, and, after talking to her, I decided to continue on with school.
(at this point, without my knowing it, she pulled my parents aside and warned them to watch me closely if I decided to continue on. apparently I was at a pretty big risk of getting worse, and becoming seriously physically ill)
I began studying to prepare for Tuesday, but soon realized that I was headed in a downward spiral again (emotionally, that is).
Finally I made the hardest decision I've ever had to make.
I decided to withdraw from Queen's.
My whole life the plan has been to go to Queen's. Suddenly that's over (for a year, at least).
I'm still completely broken up about it. I can't seem to enjoy anything that I usually would. At the moment I feel like just crawling under a rock and letting the world pass me by.
Right now I'm dreading telling people about it. What will they think of me? I see myself as a failure, how can I expect anyone else to think better of me? Everyone I know has this image of me as "that kid going to Queen's". It seems to impress most people when I told them that. Now what? I'm "that kid who was going to Queen's but now isn't and is now taking a year off to do nothing"? I sound like a frigging Fark headline.
I just need some time to figure out what I want to do with my life.
But I still feel like shit.
Thanks to anyone who actually read all that. Even if you don't have anything to say about it, please reply in some form so I know you've read it. It's at least somewhat comforting to know that people know what's going on, whether they've anything to contribute or not, you know?
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