The tragicomedies of my life still prevail! The last–I don’t know, six months has been marinated in molasses having me feel like I’m swimming in mud. I won’t even dare equate it too sweet like honey-dew. I would be lying like politicians. I had to subside on the blogging due to the daily clutter. Yes, I could have updated during the desolate work hours, however, half of my mind will constantly remind me how I should be doing school work instead. “You know all this energy you put in celebrated Mariah Carey’s song release, you could easily start your paper…and go to class on time,” my thoughts said undoubtedly. Did I listen to myself? Of course not, do I normally? Sometimes. On that particular day I just didn’t. Instead, I randomly posted an entry like a random boyfriend who unexpectedly vanished from home coming back to his relationship like, “Hey girl!” Clearly, my stats responded, “Bye Felicia!”
The precarious relationship between me and college worsen like an infectious wound. Leaving me in a deadly quandary, I had to meet with my academic advisory after being put into my last probation, “You know I’ve been trying to contact you last semester also, we were suppose to meet and speak about your grades.” I believed she lied. Although I may not always check my school email, because it’s very annoying to remember to do so, I don’t recall at all! I rolled my eyes in my mind at that statement. Whatever, anyways, she continued on about signing a promissory note that included my academic plan and what my GPA should be if I plan on to survive in that school. “Honestly, you got into this school by the skin of your teeth,” she said as I briefly explained my interminable struggles of college, including my dismissal from my last school. “Had you sent your college transcript from your last school, you wouldn’t got in.” Yeah, she is so right, but colleges want my money.
This lady probably in her late twenties, early thirties tried to reason with me through my explanation desperate to find something that will vindicate my poor grades. “So what happen that causes this?” she asked. I lifted my head up looking to the ceiling pantomiming my speechlessness with my hands and face. I couldn’t come up with a solid, plausible reason why. “Honestly, I just hate college. These loans make me question how much I really want my career. No one is forcing me other than myself and society making me feel as if college is the only way!” I ranted, “These classes are extremely uninteresting, you guys don’t offer much after radio, emotionally and mentally I feel stifled. I pay so much money to still walk into a radio station feeling inadequate.” I couldn’t be any more frank with her. The meeting went on to her concluding how internally inflicted I am, how I should really reconsider college, and so on and forth. With all things considered, I signed a few papers, promised I’ll do well and meet with her weekly for checks up. I assure you I did not attend those weekly meetings. In addition to, she wanted me to speak to my professors about my grades. I left that meeting trying to forget all that just happened to hear my heart like a siren.
Henceforth, the rest of the month followed by trying to take on too much on my plate like I tend to always do. I started a radio internship, while still doing another internship, which swallowed my Tuesdays up–my only open day. Luckily, my mom was able to drive me to Brooklyn in the mornings to my radio internship. It’s been low-key sweet; a nice one-on-one time with my mom. Also, I had the usual work and school added to the list. So, my schedule told me I had no days off. And I didn’t, for balancing school, two interns, work and some social life was emotionally draining. I started to think I was doing too much…maybe I was, though, I continued to persevere.
Meanwhile, I went through my typical emotional downpours which lead me to think I needed help. Reason being, when people asked how I was doing I felt like crying on the spot. I felt myself literally faking the smiling, saying “I’m okay.” My body in an exigency to express my truth. I wanted to say so badly when asked, “I am not okay, I feel horrible, stagnant, money-less, lost and so forth.” This has not happened to me before, mainly because when asked I don’t feel the issues at that giving time. However, in that bracket between November and March, it became really hard to compartmentalized my nerves. I started noticing people asking me if I am okay; I believe It was starting to be visible on my face, which, yet, again, is not usual. This will happen during the rare times I am not talking and my mind is bounded in tumultuous thoughts. I was a ticking time bomb or a dam collecting droplets from every upheaval, whether it be from missing my bus, some dramatic turmoil with my partner, or doing some paper, I was at the edge. I told myself plentiful I needed to speak to someone. With tiny bits, I expressed my ongoing issues with me and school with a few friends who been through therapy. I sought out for a counselor, but it never pulled through. Eventually, as I knew it would, I lifted myself out of the funk. I tried concluding the reason to be the warming weather. I tried so hard to pinpoint the downpour thinking it was just a multitude of unsatisfied areas.
Be that as it may be, I am glad this is all passing. I don’t believe my school is going to dismiss me, my interns are ending, school is ending, and I joined another radio program. Through speaking to a dear friend, I realized I am in a much better position than many people with a degree. Comparatively, with my job, radio internship, and program, I have skimmed my field closer than those whom graduated. She told me not to rush myself or be too hard as the process of adulthood molds me. Things will fall into place as they have been in the midst of my strife’s. Though, I am trying to transfer into the school that dismissed me while learning I have a 15,000 balance from my current school with no loans I can take out, due to my grades, I know things will work out.
I swear when I left high school, I was not expecting all of this.
In response to State Your Fear