I know I usually post fluffy things on my blog about shopping and plans and things I'm excited to do, but I just have to say that I've been trying to cover up some pretty serious stuff with the fluff.
When I came to Auburn in late summer 2012, I had a pretty good idea of who I was. I had a good grasp on what I thought was right and what I thought was wrong. I knew how to behave and handle myself. I knew what made me tick. I knew how to calm myself down. I knew who I was.
The end of this year has made me realize that I have almost completely lost sight of that person.
I have been uncharacteristically unhappy and I seem to have lost my instruction manuel on how to perk up for more than a few hours because I have to present myself a certain way at an event of some sort.
This semester (and last semester) really caught up with me last night. I got home from my last class of this truly horrible semester and it all just hit me - the stress that band placed on me, the misery that was the national championship trip, my friends who were depressed or sad and far away, Davis's death, the wreck, struggling with grades, bomb threats and other threats on campus, another year of friends making bad decisions and me having to watch, camp - my home and my constant - changing how it looks, my friend's dad dying, another friend who shall not be named getting arrested, struggling to like myself and how I look, living in a dorm with no WiFi and a parking spot nearly a mile away from my room, breaking up with Philip, almost a full week of snow days, changing majors (again), and a few of this university's most horrible, mean, ill professors ever.
Last night at dinner, I couldn't even enjoy my food. I wasn't really sad about all of that stuff, I was just in shock. For the first time since last summer, there I was having the time to actually process what was happening. And it was a lot. Too much to just have a good cry over.
I think somewhere along the way I just gave up on myself. I got knocked down so many times that I put a pillow on the ground and got comfortable there. I don't ever remember expecting myself to do well in classes past mid-February and I was so caught up in trying to just get through that I didn't just stop to say "hey, this sucks, but here's what I can do to fix it." I was so sure that I could just fix things going full speed into everyday that I never just admitted that I couldn't handle it anymore.
I found myself confused that I was in my 15th year of school and I still haven't really made progress. What business do I have here anyway? Why I am I still trying to make myself think this is something I am good at? And why are we paying thousands of dollars for me to do something I'm traditionally bad at and miserable doing?
A lot of times I would find myself getting so frustrated (mostly with school) that I would write out how miserable I was, but I never thought of it as a situation I could get better from. I only sat in my own failures and felt bad for myself. Somewhere along the way I lost that knack I had for picking myself back up. Perseverance is hardly in my vocabulary at all anymore.
So NOT Mary Mason of me.
In fact, I believe this self-loss is a big reason Philip and I broke up. I lost sight of myself and it was hard to be my best for another person when I never felt my best on the inside.
Here I am just 5 (hopefully) quick days away from moving out of this nasty dorm and I almost feel so much that I don't feel anything. I distinctly remember looking at Wittel and having a little sad moment when it was time to pull down the final Christmas lights. I look at this place and I feel like this was just a place of so much hurt and sadness that I don't even really have good memories here. I look around and just feel the anger from marching band, the bed where I've spent WAY too much time moping around and watching TV, the world's most mold-prone shower, a not so functionable desk chair that falls down every now and then, and mostly just a room I never mentally moved into. That's not to say that I was happy at Wittel (certainly not), but I had so much hope and firsts and figuring things out there.
In some ways, I'm chalking this up to the fact that I have finished the Wednesday of years. Sophomore year of high school was easily my least favorite as well. Stuck, and not quite thriving. Not quite at home. Drowning, Depressed, Defeated. Not quite halfway, not really new and exciting anymore. Just routine.
I'm sorry this post is such a downer, but I think I just needed to write it all out. If you are still reading this, kudos. And I guess to Sophomore year all I have to say is Good Riddance.
Here's to my favorite season: summer, my favorite year: junior, my favorite place: Pawleys and hopefully moving past this horrible feeling and this not-Mary Mason-like mood.
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