Manic academia (X-posted from Wordpress)
I haven't written in this journal for two days, but there's a reason for that. Not necessarily a good reason, but a reason nonetheless. I've endured quite the emotional roller-coaster in relation to my academic life. To make a long story short... scratch that. I think I need to explain the whole thing from the beginning. (A better titled would be "depressive academia," but "manic" just sounded better.)
On Wednesday morning, I got up early and was eager to get to campus to take my finals. Before I left, I checked online to make sure which building the test would be in. I discovered that I had missed the deadline to take the final for my cultural diversity class.
There was no excuse for this. The teacher (whom I had grown to loathe) had posted the date for the final exam since the beginning of the quarter. Instead of making sure ahead of time, I had assumed that, like most online courses, the final could be taken any time during finals week in the testing center.
Immediately, the scripts began:
"How could you be so stupid? This is just like you, assuming you know everything.You thought you were so smart. Now all the work you did is for nothing, and it's all your fault. It's pointless to try to get out of this. No one is going to have compassion for you."
I didn't even try to stop the scripts, because I completely believed them. I was going to fail the class. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
This wasn't nearly as bad as it was going to get. Before I went to campus to take my other final, I had believed that even if I failed the class, I would only be on academic probation, thus still eligible for financial aid. To confirm this, I went to the financial aid office and asked.
I was told that, at CSCC, there is no probationary period. If a student ever drops below a 2/3 completion level, which I would have had I failed the 5-credit course, financial aid is cut off immediately. The only way to earn back the aid is to pay out-of-pocket until satisfactory progress is restored. I have no money to do this.
Immediately, my mood sank to near-suicidal levels. In my mind, I saw everything I had grown accustomed to in the last few months disappearing. I saw myself leaving Matt and going back to my mother's-- "the only place you deserve to be."
On the way home, I started to feel disconnected from reality, and I started saying things I knew were untrue, but I wasn't able to stop myself. I even posted on Facebook that I "fail at life." It wasn't a good-natured, self-deprecating quip; I believed it completely. I felt like hurting myself. I felt I deserved to be hurt, kicked out, and left to fend for myself.
Of course, if I had actually looked at my grades, I would have realized that I'd have a "C" for the course even if I got zero points on the final.
Yeah.
In other words, I was ready to throw in the towel because of something that wasn't even going to happen. In the end, my teacher actually let me take the final anyway, so everything is fine. And it's great that everything's fine, but what if it hadn't been? What if I had had to deal with losing my financial aid? What would I have done?
I think it's at least significant that even in the midst of my self-hatefest, I came up with a few ideas that might have worked. Of course, at that point, I was shooting down my ideas as quickly as I thought of them. It's also true that I have been through situations like this before, and I'm still here. I always came up with a new plan. I always kept going, no matter how awful things got. And when each crisis was over, I would declare that "whatever doesn't kill me makes me stronger."
It just seems that the older I get, the closer I have to get to "dying" before I can reap the rewards of the experience. It hurts a little more every time. It takes me longer to recover every time. Of course I worry that one of these times, I'm not going to make it, and I wonder if life has to consist of brief periods of stability amid long periods of crisis. It certainly seems as if it's been that way for me. I am getting tired, and I don't know how much more disappointment I can handle.
I have a home right now, but for how long? I don't have to worry about food, but until when? I'm in therapy and I'm getting my meds legally, but ... you get the idea. I have had little, if any, assurance in life that I will always be able to get the things I need, much less the things I want. I have had to fight tooth and nail just to have what I've got now, and I feel like it could all disappear at any moment.
So why should I sabotage myself by continuing negative self-talk? Why let the scripts "win"? Good question. Maybe I never really have. I guess I kind of thrive on adversity, in a way. Once I'm done with my mandatory beating-myself-up fest, I know what to do in a crisis. I'm used to it. It's what I've been conditioned to expect. It gives my adrenaline something to do, it gives my PTSD a purpose, but it's really no way to live.
This entire incident illustrates a lot of my twisted thinking processes- all-or-nothing, fortune-telling, mind-reading, et cetera. It represents everything I need to change, but if looked at carefully, also highlights some positive traits.
On Wednesday morning, I got up early and was eager to get to campus to take my finals. Before I left, I checked online to make sure which building the test would be in. I discovered that I had missed the deadline to take the final for my cultural diversity class.
There was no excuse for this. The teacher (whom I had grown to loathe) had posted the date for the final exam since the beginning of the quarter. Instead of making sure ahead of time, I had assumed that, like most online courses, the final could be taken any time during finals week in the testing center.
Immediately, the scripts began:
"How could you be so stupid? This is just like you, assuming you know everything.You thought you were so smart. Now all the work you did is for nothing, and it's all your fault. It's pointless to try to get out of this. No one is going to have compassion for you."
I didn't even try to stop the scripts, because I completely believed them. I was going to fail the class. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
This wasn't nearly as bad as it was going to get. Before I went to campus to take my other final, I had believed that even if I failed the class, I would only be on academic probation, thus still eligible for financial aid. To confirm this, I went to the financial aid office and asked.
I was told that, at CSCC, there is no probationary period. If a student ever drops below a 2/3 completion level, which I would have had I failed the 5-credit course, financial aid is cut off immediately. The only way to earn back the aid is to pay out-of-pocket until satisfactory progress is restored. I have no money to do this.
Immediately, my mood sank to near-suicidal levels. In my mind, I saw everything I had grown accustomed to in the last few months disappearing. I saw myself leaving Matt and going back to my mother's-- "the only place you deserve to be."
On the way home, I started to feel disconnected from reality, and I started saying things I knew were untrue, but I wasn't able to stop myself. I even posted on Facebook that I "fail at life." It wasn't a good-natured, self-deprecating quip; I believed it completely. I felt like hurting myself. I felt I deserved to be hurt, kicked out, and left to fend for myself.
Of course, if I had actually looked at my grades, I would have realized that I'd have a "C" for the course even if I got zero points on the final.
Yeah.
In other words, I was ready to throw in the towel because of something that wasn't even going to happen. In the end, my teacher actually let me take the final anyway, so everything is fine. And it's great that everything's fine, but what if it hadn't been? What if I had had to deal with losing my financial aid? What would I have done?
I think it's at least significant that even in the midst of my self-hatefest, I came up with a few ideas that might have worked. Of course, at that point, I was shooting down my ideas as quickly as I thought of them. It's also true that I have been through situations like this before, and I'm still here. I always came up with a new plan. I always kept going, no matter how awful things got. And when each crisis was over, I would declare that "whatever doesn't kill me makes me stronger."
It just seems that the older I get, the closer I have to get to "dying" before I can reap the rewards of the experience. It hurts a little more every time. It takes me longer to recover every time. Of course I worry that one of these times, I'm not going to make it, and I wonder if life has to consist of brief periods of stability amid long periods of crisis. It certainly seems as if it's been that way for me. I am getting tired, and I don't know how much more disappointment I can handle.
I have a home right now, but for how long? I don't have to worry about food, but until when? I'm in therapy and I'm getting my meds legally, but ... you get the idea. I have had little, if any, assurance in life that I will always be able to get the things I need, much less the things I want. I have had to fight tooth and nail just to have what I've got now, and I feel like it could all disappear at any moment.
So why should I sabotage myself by continuing negative self-talk? Why let the scripts "win"? Good question. Maybe I never really have. I guess I kind of thrive on adversity, in a way. Once I'm done with my mandatory beating-myself-up fest, I know what to do in a crisis. I'm used to it. It's what I've been conditioned to expect. It gives my adrenaline something to do, it gives my PTSD a purpose, but it's really no way to live.
This entire incident illustrates a lot of my twisted thinking processes- all-or-nothing, fortune-telling, mind-reading, et cetera. It represents everything I need to change, but if looked at carefully, also highlights some positive traits.