Alright, if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s to shoot straight and I learned that from a dear friend of mine, who once upon a time would be considered a mortal enemy. Krista Kowatch has taught me to shoot straight, always tell it like it is, why dance around it with your friends? So here, to an audience of? McCann? I dance not.
I’ve been at Huntington for nearly four years now. That’s a fine fair amount of time to spend in one place. I mean, it’s no 13 years at Blackhawk, but it’s a tough competitor. Maybe that’s the plainest showing of my fear of change. Stick it out because moving on is a scary business. Leave the country but the idea of doing it with a real place to come back to, with friends and family that love me. That’s scary.
In four years I’ve grown or at least changed more than I can explain. And I don’t really know who to blame for that. I’m okay with blaming in this case, because I’m not convinced my changing is such a bad thing. As scary as change is it is terribly important. Imagine I never changed my clothes again. That for the rest of my life I wear this pair of black leggings, same underthings, same tank top, and perfect wrap dress. Imagine I never changed from dirty back to clean, because who needs hygiene? Imagine I never changed directions when driving. How would I ever get home or to the store? well, I wouldn’t. So change is necessary.
And in four years I’ve changed from hating myself to finding my worth in other people to falling away from those people to finding no worth in myself to hating myself to dare I say start to at least not hate myself if not even like myself to leaving the country to hating myself more than ever and returning home.
When I came home I was met with such a loving reception. Friends who push me to find myself and my worth in something greater than any of us. Friends who tackle me while I eat lunch with other friends. Friends who know that the instant I get back they can call me because of something that’s bothering them. Friends who love me more than I can understand or comprehend or believe to deserve.
And since I’ve been back I’ve not been well. The first week I was back at school, any moment I was alone I would sob. The instant I stepped into my room I would begin weeping. When I was with people I had to convince myself it was okay to be around people, to feel loved.
Slowly I’ve gotten past it, not entirely, but enough to function.
Recently I’ve learned that I’m not going to graduate this year, and because of a stupid rule the university has I’m not going to be able to walk until next spring either, and I must walk which means my degree is void until next spring no matter when I finish it.
Needless to say this news did not excite me, in the slightest. In fact, I was downright furious. Fury has subsided into a state of pissed-offed-ness. To the point that when I talk to friends about it I can at least laugh about it, or make jokes.
That doesn’t change another wrench my life has had thrown in the works. (as an aside any time I say “has had” I instantly want to finish listing the being verbs). I’ve gained a new state of melancholy at best. I never want to leave my bed. And often I don’t. I sleep through my morning classes and go to my afternoon one’s if I can muster the will to get up. And it’s not awesome, nor is it something I’m terribly proud of.
I’ve had a bug to get out again. To leave. To start over maybe. To change scenery. I just need to move, forward and the school that was supposed to help me do that is holding me back. And it’s not helping me grow anymore. My dreams and my imagination and my strength have far outgrown it. And now I don’t know where I’m going to go next or how I’m going to get there until the school let’s me go.