Tag Archives: Life

Obsessively Compulsively Myself

OCD is this big broad thing that sometimes means a lot and sometimes means so little. I think it means so much when you know that it is happening, but it means so little when it is in a low time. Media and movies have made it seem like those with OCD are only those who must count to twenty before they leave their houses, or they must turn a light on and off multiple times before they leave a room. For me OCD means not sleeping because I am too worried about something going wrong or having a breakdown when the night or day does not go exactly as I have planned.

The moments when I know I am going to spiral are long and drawn out. They last for hours sometimes days and all I can do is be a passenger to my own mind. I can feel when it creeps up, usually due to something that is going to change and it is so far out of my control. My jaw will clench and my stomach will drop and no matter where I am or what I am doing I need to stop. I must, in that moment, drop what I am doing so I can simply harvest enough energy to panic.

I have ever met someone else with diagnosed OCD. I sometimes wonder if I am the only one in the whole world who has breakdowns because there is a possibility I may be promoted. Do other people feel like the entire day is no longer worth it if they are running late for work or sleep in past an alarm? Am I one of few, or one of many who don’t need to count everything, but have been keeping a running count of my steps since I woke up this morning? I hate math, but I am so drawn to even number that my radio can never be on 17 it needs to be on 20. I will even reach up from someone’s back seat to change the sound level, because it makes me sick.

I am one single person. One person who identifies as female and stands at 5 feet 6 inches tall. A person who somehow is two people because in my mind I am a buzzing mess of things to do and times they need to be finished but on the outside I smile and move along as if nothing is wrong.

Every night before I go to sleep I take a small white cylindrical pill. Sometimes before I swallow it down I just look at it. I look at how small it is and at the thin green stripes that enclose each end and I thank it. I thank it because it was there for me even when I did not want or care for it. It has brought me up and made me sleep. This small white cylindrical pill has done more for my mental health in a year then anything has done in the last 20.

I have OCD and it has been one long year. I have had it my whole life is what doctors say yet I recognize only a one year milestone. One year I have felt so much relief and I no longer wake up in the middle of the night worried that everything I own will stop working. I no long cry because I can’t seem to think one normal thought. I am me and me is obsessive. I am me and me is compulsive. I am me and I have grown for the better. I am me and I will no longer be a victim to my own mentality.

Maybe

I had a bad week. One of those kinds of weeks that seem like they will never end, but not in the ‘I worked so hard this week’ kind of way but in the mentally exhausting kind of way. I haven’t really had an episode in a while. By episode I mean panic attack or anxiety attack, I call them episodes because it can be hard for me to sometimes know if they stem from panic or anxiety.

I feel like my life in in limbo. This semester is coming to a close and I am worried that I will have nothing to do this summer. I have and internship and a job lined up, but the OCD sort of nags at me and tells me that even though I have plans and things to do, that maybe they wont actually happen. Maybe my internship will fall through, maybe my job will end up not needing me. Maybe I wont get the funding I need to do the internship that is unpaid. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

The moment before the episodes start I feel like I am in a tunnel. Like I am in a tunnel that is 100 feet under the water and I also have four winter hats on and three pairs of socks, so that the heat and stress has no place to come out of. As the moment progresses I also feel like I have been stuck in the cold, its like the heat reaches a point that is near boiling and then I get cold. I can’t hear anything around me, all I can hear is my own heart beat. It’s off from normal, but that can be expected. Before I have time to bring myself down I’m crying, nearly uncontrollably.

When they end, it take hours, days, weeks maybe just maybe even months. This is because they don’t ever actually end, they go on and on and on forever with no end and I’m just a passenger to my own like at this point. I sit behind the wall of my own unhinged emotions and I let them talk for me, let them hug people, answer questions and most of all I let them take over. I fall distant even when I want to be present. I want so badly to reach inside of myself, to grab the anxiety and smush it. I want to look it in the eye and tell it that is has not control over me, but I can’t. All I can do is let it run its course, like a cold or a sore muscle.

Maybe I can live a year without this feeling. Maybe I can even go a few months. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

When we Change and How we Know

There had always been a part of me, a part of me that was very aware of who I was. There was also the part of me that knew, knew that I did not have the courage or the knowledge to accept this. Is it like this for everyone?

I would not actually know. This day in age coming out is a right, it is a part of a persons identity. It happens when someone is most willing to let it happen, and it happens exactly how they want it to (or hope to want it to). I am no different. I had that privilege. Nobody got to tell before I was ready, but then again I did not know I was coming out until I was in the process of doing it.

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You. I have known you for years. I have laid with you, hugged you and you have done all the same to me. The relationship used to be platonic. It was weekend sleepovers and midnight movies, until it was not. One summer we grew into weekend ice cream ‘friend’ dates and midnight cuddles, and then it became harder and harder for me to let you go home on Sundays, and almost increasingly more difficult not to instinctively kiss you goodbye.

Then one night you told me. Through a text message because it was still hard to say it aloud. You told me, before anyone else, that you were bisexual. From that moment my world went hazy. It was like you told me, and then I knew. I knew that there was something I needed to tell you, myself, my mother, yet I was SO hesitant.

When I really realized that I was in love, I do not think I really KNEW. There was not a shift in how I acted around you or how you made me feel, yet there was a shift in the status. I wanted to hold your hand in public, and kiss your forehead when I left for class, I wanted and wanted and wanted until I exploded.

I told a friend, looked her dead in the eye and told her I loved you. This did not seem to phase her, she simply told me to tell you because I was blind to see you did not feel the same. But I had not even come out yet, was not even sure if I needed to come out. Was there any part of me that was gay, bisexual or even straight? I had no idea what to identify myself as.

I did tell you though. Weeks later with tears in my eyes and whispers of never having loved anyone as much as you. You responded with tears and reassurance that is had always been me. I came out that day, not as a bisexual or as gay, but as someone who loved you.

Today, I identify as bisexual. I am not sure if this is for ease of explanation to family members, or because I truly recognize myself as such. I wonder if it is bad that I do not care, that I think loving you is simply the best outcome I could have ever asked for. Is it wrong to put my love for you above my own self identification?

I changed overtime, and I changed because I grew to love you. I knew I always loved you. From that fateful moment in high school when you knew I was wearing a purple shirt in honor of a band members birthday. When you laughed at my jokes, and stuck around when I was at my worst.

I am not sure what this means for me. This is something that would have surely made my palms sweat 6 months ago, yet here I am looking at you from across the room realizing that if you are here, then it is okay.

I answered my own question; loving you is allowed to be put above my self identification and I will never feel guilty for that.

Finding A Home Away From Home

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When everyone tells you to go to college, they tell you it is all for this amazing education. That this is the only way you can grow up to be successful and get a job one day. That it is a growing experience and a time to find yourself.

The things I was pensive about made a list; things like, moving from home, making friends, being comfortable and everything that involved being an adult in general. I was more then nervous to leave the safety of my High School, and being the first child in my immediate family to ever leave home.

I was scared of all nighters and papers that would take me months to finish, college finals that would consume my life and make me unable to sleep. I was uneasy about parties and the loud atmosphere associated with living in dorms. I was so put on edge by these things that in my first month of college, I cut myself out of everything.

I called my mother crying telling her I couldn’t go back and that living on campus just wasn’t for me. I was convinced the entire college might not be for me. I wanted to abandon my desire to pursue anything in the science field and go to the safe state school in the next town over and get a teaching degree. I had told myself, and scared myself so much that I was ready to accept all of this.

When my mother told me I had to go back to school and try for at least another week, I was convinced that by then end of that awful week I would be ready to go home even more.

What they don’t tell you about college is that it is very hard to adjust. I know for some kids all they needed was for their parents to drop them off and they were simply ready to start being adults, and some kids have one night of loneliness and then they move on, but there is a large portion of kids who struggle immensely with being far from home and having to make decisions that they never thought the would need to, I was that kid.

What I learned though was that I was missing the experiences. I was missing finding my passion and finding a group of people who embodied everything that I desired to be. I needed friends who didn’t mind staying up late with movies rather then drinks, friends who gave evil eyes to people when they didn’t recycle their water bottles. I found those friends, and once I did college changed for me.

I was ready to get four hours of sleep because my test was the next day; ready to write an excessively long paper solely for the fact I would be so proud of myself when it was done. I learned that renting a study room and streaming a fake fireplace on the T.V. would be a memory that I will never loose. I found clubs where treacherous rock climbs lead to quaint pumpkin patches were we would bond.

College hurt at first, and there was not one moment that was easy, it was hard work, but it was work that without the surprising “no” of my mother I may have never experienced.

What really needs to be considered is that even things that seem scary and unattainable and never really such. If surrounded by the right people almost any near fatal situation can become a success

Free Lunchers

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There comes this time in your life when everything is almost at this standstill. When you hear news or open a letter that breaks apart everything you had. It feels like your breath is ripped from your lungs and you can’t even imagine moving on from everything that has just happened.

I had one of these moments recently. Being only 18 years old there has never been much financial stress that was directly my responsibility, but now there is. I can no longer find myself in the guidance office begging for someone to waive the fee of a trip my mother can’t afford to send me on, or help me get a used $100 calculator that was required for the math class I had worked so hard to get into.

When teachers look at you in high school and tell you all the work that they give you is to prepare you for college, they are not telling the entire truth. The hours of work they assign over the summer or over a break is not what prepares you in the least bit, what they should be doing is telling you how hard things are about to get.

Teachers should tell you how hard it is to even make it through the college that they all insist you end up at. What they should be warning us “free lunch” kids about is that we are all basically stuck.

In most school systems that kids who find themselves on a free lunch plan are the ones who have parents that fall below what they school thinks is “average” living standards. This also reaps other benefits such as reduced SAT amounts, only a down payment requirement for AP testing, and a slew of other seemingly great things. The only issue is as soon as this group of kids leaves the public schooling system all the benefits that made it possible for them to do much of anything in elementary school and beyond are gone.

When us “free lunchers” begin to apply to college they even allow a waiver on applications, and reduced fees in sending over test scores. Then we get in and they tell us not to worry because financial aid will come through and help make up the difference in what you cannot afford to pay. Everyone tells you from day one as long as you work hard and do the right thing everything will work out. So far I have found this to be overwhelmingly false.

Not only did the extensive forms otherwise known as FAFSA fail me, so did an abundant amount of other things. Now it is important for it to be known that I did not go to the state school that was probably the better option, but a smaller liberal arts college. I knew from the start this would be more money overall, but in my mind I had spent four years in high school proving myself academically, and I should have been able to go where I would be happy.

For an entire year of private education $7,500 seems small, and for many middle class families it is very plausible, this is what I thought. When I sat down to tell my parents everything that had happened my father looked me dead in the eye and told be we would need to split the bill in thirds.

Having divorced parents is an entire other issue. It means more paperwork and hoping your non-custodial doesn’t choose to lie, and claim he pays more then you have ever seen in your entire life.

When my father told me he could pay a third, I believed him. I worked all through school, and my mother picked up extra hours. Just when I thought I was safe and everything was being paid on schedule I received quite the letter.

To sum it up, if the $2,200 balance left on my account wasn’t cleared starting spring classes was not going to happen. That was when I did the math; that was almost an entire third of my bill. My father hadn’t been paying like he was supposed to.

Now it seems harsh that I knew it was my father and not my mother not paying, but in my situation, trust me when I say it was my father.

I still took a deep breath and called him, hoping there was a misunderstanding. There had not been. He told be he hadn’t had the money. It takes a lot not to implode at this point. So, I hung the phone up.

Panic. Sheer panic set in, as my education was so far up in the air it would take a NASA telescope to see it. I told my mother voice shaking, and I knew she wouldn’t be able to help me. She was alone and had just managed to pull of the holidays with all she had that was extra.

This is when I bring back the idea that schools should be helping kids who they float through understand that all of that help fades away. As soon as a diploma lands in your hands there is nobody to run to when you cannot afford something. When FAFSA tells you they can help finance your education, they only mean so far. It almost seems that we go through years of public schooling being told half-truths.

Luckily for me I had someone to turn to when my options were next to nothing. College is never going to be the same for me now, as I now can never count on one of the only people who you should be able to. The next few years will be spent commuting from home to avoid paying room and board.

I am grateful for the year I got to spend on campus, and for the college I am lucky to even be going to. Life throws these kinds of sick curve balls, and it seems the people who are barely standing are the ones who get knocked down. A lot needs to change when it comes to helping those who find themselves just above poverty. The people who are hardworking and just too proud to not take a job and find themselves on government assistance. It’s an issue, one that affects me firsthand.

Overall it seems that an education is mandatory to make it in life, yet without a pretty hardy college fund, it’s difficult to get one.

365 Days Later.

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Life moves at this pace that is almost impossible to keep up with. When they say it goes by in the blink of an eye, they are not kidding. When I woke up (pretty late) on the first of last year, I was a different person. I was young and all I seemed to care about was getting a new car and leaving home. Now as I go into the last night of that same year, I simply want to have my family and friends by my side and for my education to continue. I feel like I am no longer a teenager, but an adult.

Growing up is a part of life, and I know someday I will want these years to stop going by so quickly, but for now I love them. I love that I can read my old posts and see just how much I have grown in these last months. I love that I have photos to look back on my year.

Being 18 is one of those ages that makes everything seem beautiful. Sitting in a small college dorm, eating french fries with every meal and sleeping for about 5 hours a day all seems amazing. I am in that age where everything seems to be breathtaking. I am so grateful for this year. It was outstanding, is outstanding.

I want to appriciate time. I want to savor my life. I want to bask in everything, everyday. I love each moment. The change is inevitable and all I can hope for in these next 365 days is that I change yet again for the better.

College: Undeniably the Hardest Time for Today’s Teenagers.

There is not much more to say beyond this, but it does deserve an explanation. College is not just any decision, it is a choice the can shape the rest of your life. Before the journey even actually begins things get complicated.
You’ll begin by sitting down and staring at endless lists of college majors, deciding this is a battle within itself. Then you pick, or you don’t, and it doesn’t even get easier. Then you take that tiny little major and you need to pick a school where it can fester and grow and eventually become your entire life. So, you look. You decided big or small? State on not? Private or public? And each choice stubs out some schools, but the list remains unfathomable.
Once you narrow it down to about twenty options things become just barley bearable. At this point you can sleep and night. The worst seems to be over right? Wrong.
The guidance counselors then come in and ruin everything you had planned, that apartment in the city with your friends? Bubble burst there is no way you can afford that. That dream ivy league? Well maybe aim lower. Your twenty become a list of ten. So then you take your list of ten and apply.
For me it was four select schools, places I knew no matter what I would love and be able to afford. So I sat down with the common app and began the process. Thirty rough drafts of an essay later and a thousand arguments with my mother about what this or that meant, I had applied. Then the wait, a wait that almost burns your insides out, but you manage. You pass time and go about senior year milling through classes halfheartedly. Then the letters come.
Accepted to one place, and then the others trickle in. At first it’s overwhelming and you cry and jump up and down, but it’s not over.
Next comes the most miserable part. Financial aid, you’ll fight with your parents, have no idea what is going on, finally learn to read a W2. You will then be told one school requires a supplementary form that’s $16 and if your parents are divorced? Yea that’s a whole other set of papers. When it’s sent it can still be sent back because you’re missing something or your non custodial parent has no idea they missed an entire page.
Then it’s over. You’ve been accepted, financial aid is in and you’re crossing your fingers you here good news about your top choice. Then the horror stories of friends who got $3,000 or no aid at all begin to be told and you’re now an insomniac because you can not stop thinking about it.
When it comes back and you’ve finally settled on a school for a while it seems okay. The joy of leaving home, the freedom it’s all so close. But there is still so much more. Roommates, loans, what to buy, jobs, classes and meal plans all come back one by one to bite you.
This is as far as I’ve come, but I know there is more on the way and until I’m sitting on my little college twin across from my best friend (who happens to be coming with me) it will still be stressful. Balancing college acceptances and aid is hard, but cake it on top of senior year expenses and a full AP course load; you can say I’ve been better.