Nearly a Month

It's been nearly a month since I last looked at my blog (damn it all, I'm in the sphere) and I feel rather good about what I've written so far.

I've made 2 'A's and 1 'B' for my summer semester of classes, which is just awesome. My semester GPA is now 3.67, yet my overall grade is a 1.70. How did that happen? Well, it's about time I explained it out loud.

I first came to college telling people I moved back to Auburn because I was half-assedly trying to patch things up with my dad. I lived with him for a month with no headway, and after nearly four years there hasn't been much progress. Anyway, that reason turned out to be bullshit.

The real reason I came to Auburn was because I failed to get into Clemson, desperately following a guy I had carried a torch for longer than I should have, and also because I was afraid to move on. I could've applied to other colleges, but I only chose Auburn. I wrote a nice little essay on why I wanted to enroll, something about "I love the landscape," and "My grandfather is an Emeritus Professor," and blah blah blah. Living in Georgia at the time, I had little prospect of entering UGA, for my academic scores were right at a C+. I didn't care about high school- either it was my depression or spoiled nature that caused me to want to fail at everything, but regardless I wasn't up to snuff. I got my acceptance letter and I moved to Auburn.

Living with my dad was too weird. We'd hardly spoken for years and here I am living in the house where all those weird things happened. I can't explain it too well, but I had to work hard on my looks and my grades when I was with him. It may be because I was afraid of him or I needed to distract myself from his nightmare. As for my looks ,well, I figured he could enjoy the view. That's sick, I know. I was extra hard on myself living with him, barely eating, always exercising, always doing something impressive like memorizing random crap that I've forgotten by now. I had to be the best- like there was some weird competition with my dad that I'll never understand. Weird weird weird.

After my summer semester ended with an 'A' and a 'B', I moved out. I started living at the Commons, the prison-like private dorms for those who haven't quite met Greek Rush standards. I hated it there. My dad would show up randomly from time to time, and my stomach was always a knot. I started missing classes, having several near and full-blown panic attacks from the surge of people I was thrust into. Remembering it now makes me anxious.

I signed up for several classes that Fall of '04, including Psych 101, Pre-Calculus (math is my worst discipline), Biology 101, and... something else. Anyway, I was on a competitive high- and the downer was failing all of it. I stopped going to class completely. I didn't even bother to withdraw, for by the time I realized I wasn't going to make it it was past the deadline. I even started to stop leaving the apartment unless I was going out to binge on sushi and pie and bread and Taco Bell. Then I'd come right back to the concrete room just to throw it all up.

Somewhere between my midnight to 5AM walks and daily self-deprecation I met Evan. Long story short, he's been the only person in my life to help me through the worst of times, even when I was desperate to run away from him and everything.

The coming Spring of 2005 I was on Academic Warning. My GPA had fallen from 3.50 to a 1.11. Spring was no better than Fall. I can't really remember that year very well, but I remember watching Evan progress in his sophomore year and making acquaintances with his friends. I still insist that I don't have any real friends, no matter who tries to prove me wrong. By now I just keep quiet about it, posing and laughing for people when I feel it's appropriate.

After Spring came my first Academic Suspension. I was forced to wait until next Spring of 2006 to enroll again. Mind you, I had a GPA of 1.11 from a 3.50 just from signing up for classes I never attended. Money? That was taken care of by my aunt, who was just using the last amounts on a credit card to pay for my wasted tuition. Perhaps if I didn't have such a net I might have climbed out sooner. No, there is no "might" about it. I would've been forced to take care of it better- yet I was barely out of bed during the day. The doctors call that "clinical depression." I'm quite taken to believe them regardless of the guilt I consume.

I tried to appeal to a community college to gain some headway into my college career, and amazingly they let me enroll. I convinced them that my status was going to change with help from a psychologist (I don't see her anymore, she was weird). I don't think I would have gone through with it if it hadn't been for a friend who was also enrolling for the same thing- to get back on track after a hiatus. We carpooled together for a while, but eventually both of us backed out. I'm not sure why she did it, but as for myself I couldn't take the pressure. Yea, community college pressure. I was pathetic. I stopped going and took the fail. However, no one knows about it. The grades would've transferred but I just didn't care. I had a job at Zaxby's at the time, and it was partly due to the manager's incompetent scheduling, my aunt's vehement response to my enrollment (I have no idea how she found out), and there was a creepy touchy dude at the college who tried to whisk me away in his pickup (not very well, but he was still creepy). I felt like a failure for attending such a dump while at the same time trying to validate my decision to my aunt who believed that education spent at a community college was a complete waste of time, and she would not support it. My mom and I ended up paying the $1,000 course fees. My mom still doesn't know- all I told her was that the grades wouldn't transfer. That was in Fall '05.

Come Spring of '06, I was feeling pretty good. My aunt's credit card hadn't run out yet and Evan and I were still going strong. I felt like I had some friends and support and the university hadn't yet decided I was completely worthless. I signed up for some classes. ANTH 101, Biology 101, and a World History course consisted of my part-time enrollment, and I only passed one of them. Anthropology was interesting but my anxiety lead to confused and incoherent understandings of basic data- I think the only reason I passed was because I had a friend who was taking the course as well. It was as though I didn't want to let him down. I successfully withdrew from my history course, but I took the 'F' for Biology. My GPA fell to a 1.04. I was put on Academic Suspension again.

During the Fall of 2006 I worked at Winn-Dixie to pay for my bills and worked until December once I had told them of my school schedule for Spring. They didn't need me in pricing if I was to have class on specific mornings, even though I told them I could handle it, and they wanted to bump me down to a 15-20 hour a week cashier position. I gave them two weeks notice. Spring of 2007 was my best semester except for the very first summer mini-mester back in 2004.

There was a period between Zaxby's and Winn-Dixie in which Evan and I were forced to move from our quaint apartment into a dump known as Burton House. While Evan was initially sullen about the move, it was I who became emotionally depressed and my appetite decreased. Evan then had to undergo surgery for a major cyst, which set back our exercise routine and every other routine we had. I played games on the couch while he rested in bed, and when I was at work he took over on the couch while I droned through the supermarket. We found another apartment and another roommate to help with the bills, so come August of 2006 we were living in a nice place with money and Evan was able to recover better.

So, Spring '07 rolls around and I sign up for some classes. My roommate and I sign up for one class together, Theatre 101, and I enroll myself in Art History and English Composition. He failed the Theatre class while I scraped by with a 'D', and we even both petitioned to have our grade retracted because of the professor's incompetence. Eventually we both faltered in that endeavor and just took the grade we got. I passed with a 'D' in Art History only because of 5 missed class periods, and my English grade was a 'B.' Finally I was improving, but it was time to make the university see that.

I was to be suspended again, and for that summer I took a course in Study Smart, which is a loaded course designed for students with no actual mental or emotional problems but who party all the time. I passed with a 'B' instead of an 'A' because of the idiotic counselor that was assigned. I poured my heart out in those essays we were required to complete and he checked off a whole day's absence for two tardies- the tardies being the fault of the bus because of a mysterious invisible train that would force traffic to a halt. No one in this go-fast crazy 1980's world can afford to account for traffic delays- because I need to be taught a lesson.

Regardless, I passed. I wrote an appeal's letter to try for school again, and I began school in Fall of 2007 thanks to the understanding of the faculty in the Offices of the Program for Students with Disabilities. Sure, I haven't had the worst like some people, but with psychological help I've managed to organize what makes me tick and what doesn't- memories are hard to overcome when you can't remember them very well.

I started in fall with a full-time position at HDI as a data entry clerk. My pay was good and I was looking to make $800-1,000 a month if I kept improving my typing skills. There was one other factor for this period, however- Lexapro. I was diagnosed with clinical depression and GAD and my doctor prescribed me with depression medication (after reassuring him that I did not have ADD; no really, I've tried Adderall). He advised me to stick to the medicine for several weeks with the free samples he gave me, then I would have to purchase the tablets at $90 a bottle. As much as I wanted to improve, I detested the idea of taking pills to "fix" me. Talking to my psychologist helped, yet it seemed there was a conspiracy to sell drugs at the cost of self-discipline. This, of course, was my depression, as my psychologist explained.

I acted on their advice and continued taking the medication until I had a minor nervous breakdown. I couldn't move well enough on my own without falling down or fainting. For about 2 weeks these bizarre symptoms occurred, and I felt helpless and sick with no explanation. It didn't occur to me that it could've been the Lexapro, and I'm still not sure if it was. One night I was crawling on the floor, too weak and dizzy to stand up, having missed my classes and work all the time, and I screamed and hit the floor and just went nuts for a minute. Then I scrambled up and tried to make it outside to my car to drive myself to the hospital. My boyfriend wouldn't let me, and I asked him to drive me, but at the time he had not received his license. Instead, without calling my psychologist or physician, they took me to a neighbor's place and let me writhe and laugh maniacally on their stairs until I eventually passed out. I remember it too well, knowing that I was completely helpless to my brief bout of mania.

The next day I was calm, still sick and weary, and I asked one to drive me to the doctor for some tests. After some deliberation, numerous tests, and trips to other doctors, they couldn't figure out what was wrong except for a mild tract infection- they explained that the symptoms I had didn't reflect that mild infection, yet they prescribed me with some antibiotics. Eventually, after some IV fluids and Elevill- some sort of "upper," the hospital released me and I was driven back home. I saw my psychologist with Evan, who was obviously burdened by my problems, and I went back to my doctor for a written excuse to get back to class. I had to drop one of my art classes immediately and eventually withdrew from the semester with my psychologist's written request. Because I lost my job, I had to rely on my mom to help for bills at the time. Unfortunately, she also lost her job around the same time. With my roommate struggling with money because of a business investment gone wrong, and Evan only able to afford his share, we were all forced to relocate. I'd like to think that it wasn't my fault, but I still feel the same. Oh, and while all of this was going on the Vocational Center had faulted on responding to me for financial help for school and/or living expenses. I don't want to deal with them ever again.

Fall of 2007 was one of the most stressful and burdening times of my life, mainly because my problems affected several others. We all moved to separate places and Evan and I are still dating. He graduated that December and we knew he was going to move away for graduate school in Tuscaloosa. We were trying to spend a lot of our time together and make the most of it- and we did.

Come Spring I was in a new place with a stranger for a roommate- she turned out to be even more useless than me. Anyway, I had a full-time job at a hotel working the graveyard shift, slowly progressing into apathy about the work until I was fired for taking an hour break without notifying my manager (part of it was due to me being paranoid, but it was mostly apathy). Sure, I could've called them at 2 in the morning to tell them I'm going on a break, but who the heck would complain enough to get me into trouble about that? Apparently there was one dude who decided he just had to have a room at this cheap, overpriced, rathole of a building. There was no ill between me and the managers, however. The owner got wind of my misdeed and the manager assumed to fire me before trying to appease him.

Regardless, I was going to apply for financial aid and get my school back on track. I appealed for financial aid because of my low GPA and successfully passed my classes with a semester average of 3.67.

Now I have the task of appealing to withdraw my first two horridly 'F'- filled semesters due to absences. I've calculated that if those two 2004 and 2005 semesters are dropped, my GPA would be about a 2.70 total. Heck, I'm only three hours away from sophomore status now, so I can't quit. Unfortunately I just found out that my financial aid has been revoked because while I have a high semester GPA, it still didn't bring it to a 2.0 even though it would have been impossible for me to have raised a 1.2 to a 2.0 in such a short amount of time. I have to appeal again, this time with many more competitors, and then I have to appeal to receive even more aid because of my mom's unemployment during the 2008 year (there are forms for that!).

I am 22 years old and I'm still a freshman in college. It's pathetic, but I feel like I've finally got a grip on some things and I haven't had to use Lexapro or anything else but good old fashioned behavioral therapy.