scars, 3

My mother is in the unfortunate position of being differently intelligent than her children and her ex-husband. Let me be clear: she is fiercely intelligent in ways that we are not. But in the ways that allow you to show off while watching Jeopardy, in the ways that genuinely enjoy intellectual pursuits for their own sakes, in the ways that allow you to write brilliant books and papers and achieve good grades without effort and have your intelligence be immediately apparent to anyone who meets you, she is lacking. And there's nothing wrong with that, except that it can be a little awkward at times.

For my mother, it is more than awkward. She is dismissive and contemptuous of us one moment and jealous the next. For years, she praised my intelligence, so that even in the depths of my high school depression, even when i planned my suicide, even when i felt that almost nothing about me was redeemable or worthy of notice or interesting or in any way mattered, i knew that i was intelligent. I knew that i was more intelligent than most, and that if all else failed, i could cling to that. It was the one thing i was sure of, the one part of me the value of which i never doubted. And then she began to tell me that intelligence was not enough, that i needed to change who i was to succeed in the world. She told me that my type of intelligence, like my dad's, was one that she did not understand and did not always like. She disparaged my accomplishments and dismissed my efforts.

She accelerated this with my sister, telling her that she had no reason to be proud of straight As, because she didn't have to study. Accomplishments only mattered, only had any worth, if you had to work for them. Things that came naturally didn't count.

Any time that any of us find something in ourselves to be proud of, she finds a way to devalue it. And we are not a naturally confident bunch with lots of things we like about ourselves. We mostly don't like ourselves very much, so when we finally find something we're okay with, that is something to celebrate and cherish.

But my mother has a very hard time looking favorably on anything that is different from her, especially if it's not something she can readily understand. She has no patience with or understanding of mental illness (despite having been surrounded by it, experiencing it herself, and taking many psych classes while attaining her three post-graduate degrees). She thinks that people who are good and smart and beautiful, people who are healthy and loved, people who have a lot going for them, have no reason to be mentally ill. She thinks that depression only happens to people who don't have anything else to distinguish them, people whose lives are empty and difficult. She thinks that anyone who has a good, full, happy life has no reason to be depressed, and that the chemical imbalance in their brains can be corrected through a determination to be happy and the simple decision to "get over it".

She is her own standard of correctness and perfection, her own yardstick of health and normalcy. If someone disagrees with her, they are wrong. If someone thinks differently from her, they are weird. If someone's skill set is different from hers, they need to adapt and change in order to succeed. If someone has accomplished more than her, they were lucky. If someone is happier than her, they are lying to themselves.

I was fed a steady stream of these messages for twenty years. When i got my first tattoo, in addition to all of the beautiful and uplifting messages about family and heritage and goals and love and connections and roots and wings, it was my way of saying that i was done with all that bullshit. When i turned twenty, i turned a corner in my life. I decided that no one else got to decide my worth, that only i got to place any kind of value on my self. I decided that it was time to pick up the parts of my mother that were uplifting and encouraging, the parts that i loved and felt connected to, and leave the rest behind.

A tattoo is like a scar, but it is not accidental and it does not come from someone else. A tattoo is a sign that you will accept no one else's marks on yourself, that only you will decide what will stay with you and what will be brushed off. A tattoo is a reminder that you have the final say in who you are.

There are still things that are beyond my control. The scars from my mother are still healing, still bleeding, still hurting. I still have weeks and months where i fall from the high wire. But now, my mother is not my partner or my safety net. I have built my own arena, my own circus ring. I have choreographed my own act, chosen my own partners. I am dancing above the abyss, and while i know that i may fall, i also know i will not be falling forever. There is rest to be found. There are places of safety. There are times of stability. And in the meantime, i am learning to dance, free and fearless, on the tightrope of my sanity. Because if you're going to be up there anyway, you might as well make something beautiful of it.

Writing Retreat, Day 3

I am a terrible, terrible person. And so is C.

That's the only preface i will give to the following bits of dialogue, with accompanying commentary by myself and C, overheard at breakfast on day 3. T is a morbidly obese sophomore, and A, M, and J are her three male friends.

On Words:
T: "That was rhetorical!"
C: "Does she know what that word means?"
Me: "I think that, whenever she says something and doesn't get the reaction she was hoping for, she just covers by saying that it was a joke or rhetorical."


On Identity and Relationships:
T: "That's because I'm a different species. I'm more highly evolved than you."

T: "If you ever talked to a girl the way you're talking to me, she'd kill you."
A: " . . . you are a girl."
C: "No, she's a different species."
Me: "And a more highly evolved one, at that."


T (on being reprimanded for asking for the loan of a pocket knife to peel her orange, and being told that she should carry her own knife): "I don't want to be needy. I'll just be friends with boys who carry pocket knives."

A: "I don't know if I want to be friends with someone who just beats me up (verbally) all the time. If our whole relationship is about fighting, why are we even friends?"
T: "That's not what our whole relationship is about! And I don't beat you up!"
M: "Take the way you argue, and imagine that it was made physical. It would be a fistfight."
T: "No, because A wouldn't hit a girl."
Me: "I thought you weren't a girl?"


A: "You make me feel awful!"
T: "Yeah, that's the point."

A: "Okay, Eleanor Roosevelt said that no one can make you feel inferior without your consent. So, I do not consent to you making me feel bad and beating me up verbally."
T: "You're the one who makes me feel bad!"
A: "Okay, what do I do? And why do you consent to it?"
T: "You just don't do the things I want you to."

T (to A): "I was adding that to why I want to beat you up: because I don't like the way you think."

T: "I'd have a better chance with pretty much all of the freshmen."
C: "A better chance of what? Dating them? Eating them?"
Me: "C! That is a terrible thing to say! T would never eat a freshman! She is a vegetarian!"


On Identity and Fetishes:
A: "Why did you smell that (orange peel)?"
T: "It's like a creepy fetish thing."

T: ". . . you'd go through my trash and sell it on eBay. That's a violation of my personal space."
A: "But J does it all the time!"
T: "Yeah, well, I'm used to it from him. I'm not used to it from you."

T (as J was pretending to pour syrup on her): "I do NOT look like a waffle. (to A) You're the waffle. I'm more like spaghetti."
A: "You don't look like spaghetti. You look more like a waffle."

On Power Animals:
T: "A might be a flamingo, because I feel like he gets confused very often."

T: "No. A triceratops is not a real animal."

T: "Maybe (the unicorns) are all in Atlantis and you just can't find them!"
J: "Atlantis is underwater."
T: "So? Maybe unicorns can breathe underwater!"
J, A, and M: "No, they can't."
T: "How do you know? Have you ever seen a unicorn breathing underwater? No, you haven't. So you can't prove that they can't."

T: "I'm an education major, so therefore I'm right."

the road not taken

In high school, i took an ethics and philosophy course called "Understanding Our Times" or something like that. We learned about a lot of different perspectives and approached major world issues from those perspectives. All through a massive conservative-Christian homeschooler lens, of course.

One of the topics we discussed was feminism/gender roles. A lot of it was . . . less than empowering. Things like how to use your gifts and passions and skills to serve your husband and your Lord (in that order?), and how deeply fulfilling it is to be a stay-at-home mom.

Let me be clear: I am NOT knocking traditional gender roles or stay-at-home moms. Those things CAN be enormously fulfilling and wonderful. Women should be able to do anything they want to do, including staying at home and raising kids, without anyone trying to vilify their choices. But what i can't stand is when the more conservative sides attack the more progressive sides by glorifying the wonder and joy of child-rearing. It is wonderful and joyous. But it's also a whole lot of work. And not everyone is cut out for it. And that is okay.

However, this program did say one thing i appreciated. It was talking about women trying to choose between post-secondary degrees or work, and staying home with their kids. And it said that the choice is not permanent, that you can always choose something else down the line if you find that you are not being totally fulfilled.

You can have it all. You just can't have it all at once.

You can get a master's degree and work for a few years. Then you can take time off to have some kids. Then, once the kids are in school full-time, you can go back to work and/or school. Then when retirement comes around, you can hang out with the grand-kids. You can switch careers, you can collect degrees like rare coins, you can take time off to homeschool your kids or pursue your dream of being a musician.

You can have it all.

I was a psych major in my freshman year of college. I had always loved English and wanted to be a writer, but somehow it had never occurred to me to actually study writing. Besides, God wanted me to study psychology and work with teenagers.

But in my sophomore year, i added an English minor. And in my junior year, i added an English major. I went into my senior year with a double major and every intention of being a psychologist.

And then i "decided" to be a teacher.

But i still struggled with my choices. From a purely practical standpoint, had i really wasted four years of time and energy to get a psych degree that i would never use? From a spiritual standpoint, had i misinterpreted God's instructions for me or had He changed His mind? I still believed that God wanted me to have that degree, but why?

In February of my senior year, i was putting together a presentation for some prospective honors students. I was organizing a slideshow of accomplishments of current honors students. I needed a photo of each student, so i was perusing Facebook profiles. I was scanning through photos of "Caroline", who was also a psych major and who had come in with me as a freshman. I had had lots of classes with her and we were friendly, but i didn't know her very well. I did know that she had dropped out of high school and worked to get her GED, meaning that she was highly self-motivated. I also knew that she had been on track to graduate a year early, but that she had instead taken some time off of college and simply graduated on time. I suddenly felt led to talk to her about these choices.

I sent her a quick Facebook message telling her that i admired her courage and self-awareness. That lots of people needed to take time off but were afraid that people would judge them. That there were probably lots of people who judged her, who called her a quitter, who said that she was lazy and unmotivated. That the truth was that she was extremely motivated, and brave, and strong, and that i had an enormous amount of respect for her.

Her reply was humbling, inspiring, and illuminating.

"You have no idea how much this means to me. Your uncanny ability to see into a situation you don't know much about, and somehow still know a lot about it just blew me away.

Your encouragement made my day, but in all likelihood, my week and month as well. I have been through a lot these past four or five years, and need a reminder every now and again that I'm braver than I give myself credit for.

And I just wanted to let you know that I believe you made the right choice in switching to Psychology. If nothing else, this message proved it to me. I've heard fantastic things about your writing, and am sure that you would have made a great English teacher or whatever you had planned -- but I am supremely confident that you will make an even better therapist or whatever it is you wish to do with your insight and talent.

Who knows, maybe you could become a professional therapeutic note writer, and help other people make it through this crazy life as you just did for me. :)

Thank you."

In a rush of insight and understanding, i realized that there are a lot of people out there who need someone to notice them. Statistically speaking, the people who need therapy the most are the ones who have least access to it. Sometimes, all a kid has is a teacher who asks them to hang back after class so they can say, "Are you okay?"

I realized that i could always go on to get more psych degrees and "use" them, but that i would already be using my BA every day, in every area of my life. I might be the only person who bothers to ask a kid what is going on in their lives, or who shows an interest at all. I might be the safe haven, the refuge, the advocate, the role model. I might be the only thing standing between my students and utter despair.

I can have it all. I just can't have it all at once.

I can always double back later on and take an alternate route. I can only take one road at a time, but that doesn't mean i can't take them all eventually.

I can have it all.

Philosophy of Education, Part 4

My Foundations of Education class required an essay on my personal philosophy of education. The syllabus listed no page number requirements. When we asked the professor how long it had to be, he simply said, "Explain yourself."

Mine was six pages long and is reproduced here, section by section, for your edification and reading pleasure. Part 1 can be found here, part 2 here, and part 3 here.


What is my role as a teacher?

                As a teacher, I must help my students to be prepared for whatever lies ahead. I have to be aware of my students’ skills, abilities, and passions so that I can help cultivate their strengths and guide them to success and fulfillment. I must ensure that I never denigrate any student’s desires or goals, but find constructive ways to encourage them to reach for more.

Through personal, one-on-one encouragement and general modeling of my own life choices and where they have led, I can and must show my students that their lives are in their own hands to do with what they will. For better or for worse, we all have some measure of control over our futures. It is in my power to endow my students with a sense of the great responsibility and privilege that they each have: the freedom of choice. The choices are not always good or easy, but they are always present.

I must also teach them ethics and life skills, whether by direct instruction or by indirect modeling. The method of instruction will be partially dependent on the rules of the school. Some schools may not allow me to give explicit moral instruction, even if asked directly to give my opinion on an issue. But by striving to keep my two selves congruent and by always being honest with my students, I can at least show them how honesty, openness, and self-awareness have impacted my own life. Even if I rely on direct instruction, however, I can never try to force my own ideals or convictions on my students. All I can do is share my opinion and model my own beliefs and attitudes.

My final point is the most obvious of all: I must share my passion for my content. As a teacher, it is my job to share not only my knowledge, but also my enthusiasm. As an English teacher, I will encounter many students who find reading boring. I will encounter many who struggle with reading because English is not their first language, or because they are hampered by a learning disability. I will encounter students who do not care about parts of speech, who hate to write, who can’t be bothered to read anything that doesn’t feature vampires or wizards or whatever the current literary trend is. And I must teach them all Shakespeare and Dickenson. I must teach them all to avoid passivity in their writing. I must teach persuasive essays, analytical essays, and research essays. I must teach many forms of creative writing and adaptation. All of English language arts and literature are in my hands, and I must strive to pass as much as possible to my students.

But teaching a subject is not only about passing along information. It is also about sharing a passion. Not every student I encounter has to leave with a deep appreciation for Shakespeare. But they should all understand why I love him. I must make it clear that, while this may not be everyone’s cup of tea, there is nevertheless great value in the study of literature and language arts. There is value in being well-read. There is value in being a skilled writer. And no matter the path your life may take in the future, the study of English is not a complete waste of time.

Philosophy of Education, Part 3

My Foundations of Education class required an essay on my personal philosophy of education. The syllabus listed no page number requirements. When we asked the professor how long it had to be, he simply said, "Explain yourself."

Mine was six pages long and is reproduced here, section by section, for your edification and reading pleasure. Part one can be found here and part two can be found here.

What is important to learn in school?

While academic and life skills are of unparalleled importance to survive and thrive in the world,  school is not just pure academic achievement or meeting immediate survival needs. Since most people spend their formative years in school, that is where we all learn how to socialize constructively with one another, how to follow a schedule and respect a deadline, how to obey authorities beyond our parents, and how to make decisions about our identities, lifestyles, and morals. Some would argue that teachers should not teach morals or social skills or anything beyond textbook information within their own subject, but the fact is that kids learn a lot more from the behavior of adults than from their words.

Even if teachers decline to explicitly instruct their students in socialization or cultural sensitivity or deference to authority or ethics or anything not directly related to their own subject, they must be aware of their own attitudes, behavior, and demeanor. Kids will pick up a lot from their teachers’ nonverbal instructions, and will observe the way that all adults handle themselves in everyday life. It is important to be aware that we are role models, and to ensure that our words and actions coincide. Nothing will make a child lose respect for an adult faster than catching the adult in a lie.

Rogerian psychology places a high emphasis on “congruence”, or the agreement between a person’s perception of themselves and the reality. Very few people are exactly the person they’d like to be, but those who freely acknowledge that they are a work in progress are far more likely to be liked and respected by their students than those who deny any incongruence and claim to be in total control of who they are. You must be sure that the face you show your students is really yours, because you will not be able to fool all of your students all of the time. All it takes is one slip and a student, a class, or an entire career could be lost forever.

Be aware of and honest about your own faults and weaknesses, while working hard to better yourself. Admit fallibility and hope for greater congruence. And always encourage your students to be equally honest and self-aware in their own lives. During the school year, you will spend nearly as much time with some of your students as their parents do, and in some cases more. You are equally responsible for their academic, professional, and personal futures.

Philosophy of Education, Part 2

My Foundations of Education class required an essay on my personal philosophy of education. The syllabus listed no page number requirements. When we asked the professor how long it had to be, he simply said, "Explain yourself."

Mine was six pages long and is reproduced here, section by section, for your edification and reading pleasure. Part 1 can be found here.

What does it mean to be an educated person?

                Being educated means having a strong foundation of basic knowledge, as well as passion for and a deep knowledge of at least one subject. For most people, there will be at least a few years in their lives when they will have to be entirely responsible for themselves, with little day-to-day support from their parents. Whether microwaving canned soup in a dorm room or working a three jobs in order to make rent, most people have a few years where they have to feed themselves, get themselves out of bed in the morning, wash their own clothes and dishes, and be held accountable for all of their mistakes.

Everyone should have a basic understanding of insurance (health, home, and auto), banking (savings and checking accounts, loans and interest rates, and investments), and credit (what it means to have good credit and how to get it). Basic life skills and survival information are important for everyone to have.

The argument could be made that in today’s high-tech world, where everyone has a calculator on their cell phones, math is of little use to anyone who doesn’t actually want to be a mathematician. However, the ability to perform simple calculations without the help of technology could be exactly what you need to impress your boss, your college admissions counselor, or your date. Additionally, sometimes technology malfunctions. Nothing is foolproof, so it never hurts to have a backup plan. Every person should be able to do simple mathematics, if only to be able to calculate the tip at a restaurant.

Every person should be able to communicate clearly in written form, if only to be able to write letters or emails to loved ones who live far away. There is no profession in which strong written communication skills will be regarded as a handicap, and very few in which they will not be regarded as a positive asset. With the wide availability of word processing software and web-browsers that come pre-equipped with automatic spell-check, it is easy to think that spelling, and even grammar, no longer need to be formally taught. Again, however, it is risky to rely too heavily on technology with no backup plan. Furthermore, even the best spellcheckers are not perfect. A word spelled correctly but used incorrectly may not be caught. Obvious grammatical errors are usually marked as such, but the more subtle nuances of written communication cannot be programmed into any software. It is important to be able to express yourself without sounding like an idiot, whether you are writing a proposal to your boss or writing a note to your child’s teacher. It is difficult to take someone’s ideas seriously when they are poorly expressed.

Every person should be able to read fluently. Whether entertaining themselves with spoof articles online or perusing serious scholarly journals, reading is the key to every door in life. A person who can read can teach themselves any subject. They can get academic degrees or simply do some light reading about a subject that interests them. Reading opens up whole new worlds of entertainment, information, and achievement. Parents can form bonds with their children by reading with them. Children can find their own academic enrichment online or in a library. And people of all ages can entertain themselves with comic strips in the newspaper, or humorous blogs online, or Shakespeare.

                Finally, in addition to basic self-care and the three R’s, schools should strive to instill passion and a sense of purpose in each child. Whether that passion and purpose lead the child to multiple doctoral degrees or to volunteering at a non-profit organization or collecting garbage, schools should ensure that every person is intellectually, socially, and emotionally prepared to follow their dreams. No child should feel that any dream is above or beneath them. Nor should they feel that intellectual achievement and interest must necessarily lead to higher education. Why can’t an electrician be interested in literature, or a truck driver passionate about physics? Academic subjects can be pursued as hobbies. What matters is not that every student who likes chemistry goes on to win a Nobel Prize. What matters is that every person has interests, passions, and talents outside of their everyday professional work, and that they are encouraged to pursue and develop those interests and talents.

Philosophy of Education, Part 1

My Foundations of Education class required an essay on my personal philosophy of education. The syllabus listed no page number requirements. When we asked the professor how long it had to be, he simply said, "Explain yourself."

Mine was six pages long and is reproduced here, section by section, for your edification and reading pleasure.

Why is education important?   

Everyone is not born equal. Some kids are smarter than others. Some are burdened with physical disabilities that make learning more difficult, such as visual impairments; psychological disabilities, such as ADHD; or learning disabilities, such as dyslexia. Some are born poor, cut off from documentaries on cable TV, research opportunities afforded by high-speed internet, and learning enrichments such as tutors, extracurricular opportunities, and trips to museums and musical or theatrical performances. And there’s nothing we can do about any of that.

                But there are some things we can control, and we owe it to ourselves, our students, and our world to give every child access to education. Some day, someone will find a cure for cancer. Someone will find an environmentally friendly, completely affordable fuel alternative. Someone will end world hunger and bring about world peace. The next Bill Gates or Marie Curie or da Vinci may have been born already, but without access to a quality education, these children may never realize their true potential. Of course, not every child will be a da Vinci. Some will be limited by ability, some by interest. There are people who find their greatest joys and deepest fulfillment in more “humble” careers, like construction or managing a convenience store. No one who really wants to be a landscaper should be pushed to become a surgeon. But no one who really wants to be a physicist should be forced to become an electrician. We should be limited only by our desires, not by money or opportunity.

                Education cannot be equal, but it must be fair. There are some kids need extra support, whether something as simple as meeting with a tutor once or twice a week or attending a special school for their whole lives. Some need extra challenges in order to help them meet their full potential. Some simply need accommodations, like textbooks in Braille or audio form, or a printed copy of the teacher’s lecture notes. Education cannot be handed out equally to all students, because not all students are equal. But education must be fair, because very little else in life is. When we have a chance to bring justice to an unequal situation, we have a responsibility to do so. 

anxiety

I have generalized anxiety disorder. I have never been formally diagnosed by a mental health professional, but i know enough about myself and GAD to see it, and others who have been diagnosed with GAD have confirmed my suspicions. Plus i took an online test, so, yeah.

This means that i live most days with what i like to call a "functional level of anxiety". I'm almost never totally calm and happy and relaxed, but it doesn't really get in the way of my life. Which is why i've never bothered to be officially diagnosed, or to go on any kind of medication.

See, i really feel like no one should ever take any kind of medicine at all for any reason unless their issue is preventing them from living a normal life. Why would you put chemicals into your body and brain if you don't have to? Is your cholesterol at a life-threatening level? Go ahead and get a prescription. Does your bipolar disorder prevent you from even going to therapy? Get a prescription.

But people have a tendency to go for a quick fix. "I feel sad today and have for a few days now, so I'll pop some antidepressants until I feel better." Why not M'N'Ms? They taste better and you can chew them. And they won't alter the chemistry of your brain until you become dependent on medication to get out of bed in the morning.

Prescription drugs, particularly psychiatric medications, change the very structures of your brain. If you don't need them when you start taking them, you will create a need for them. This is why i get pissed off when people put their six-year-old children on Ritalin. Their brains aren't even finished being formed, and you're giving them something that could alter those brains forever. Guess what? The long-term effects of ADHD medications are unknown.Some kids grow out of their ADD/ADHD. Some don't. And some of the ones who don't honestly need a medication in order to get through the day.


And that's okay.

If you are unable to get through the day without help, please get help. There is no shame in admitting that you can't do everything on your own. And this is coming from a girl who won't even ask for a ride to the grocery store, and will instead walk a mile each way in the snow and ice, carrying heavy grocery bags on the way back (and that is in no way an exaggeration). If you need help, get it.

Anyway, my anxiety rarely interferes with my life in any way. Occasionally, i'll have a mini-anxiety attack. For 30-90 seconds, i'll be on the verge of tears for no real reason. But i can focus and power through and be okay. Sometimes i'll have to step away from my desk for a minute and find a quiet corner where i can breathe deeply and put my head down. But these attacks are infrequent, coming perhaps once a month. They in no way affect my ability to live my life.

But this week, i had three major anxiety attacks in five hours.

My functional level of anxiety comes with a range. Some days, i am more relaxed. Some days, i am more stressed. But even in the midst of my mini-attacks, i tend to stay within this range. I'll be right at the top of it, but i'm in it.

Tuesday, i was at the top of my range. Maybe slightly above. I was tense and anxious, but pretty much okay.

Wednesday, my anxiety spiked to a level i can't remember hitting since high school. It climbed steadily all day, peaking right before my class. I walked into the classroom, put my things on a desk, and walked out again. I found a quiet corner and cried for a few minutes. I was trying to breathe, trying to figure out whether or not i could even go to class. Finally, i decided that since i'd have to go back eventually, if only to get my stuff, i should try to sit through class. I decided to stay until i couldn't. I remained tense, shaky, and disoriented.

I made it through the class and started walking home. Another attack came. This time, instead of crying, i found myself struggling to draw breath. I was shaking and choking. I'm not sure how i made it all the way home. All i know is that, just when my house came into view, i remembered that i had recently found an ice cream sale and stocked up. (Side note: over the last year and a half, there has been an ice cream sale every time i have encountered personal pain. I feel like it's God's way of saying, "Here. I love you. Have some ice cream. It will be okay.") I laughed a little, remembering those many weeks and months of clinging desperately to hope and Haagen-Dazs, and went into the house.

A little while later, my roommates and i were chatting in the kitchen, and i started to feel another attack coming on. I tried to focus and power through, but one of my roommates noticed me staring intently at nothing (actually, i was staring intently at her left boob, but i wasn't aware of that), and asked if i was okay. My concentration broken, i began shaking violently and sobbing. It was like every muscle in my body was so tense that it was vibrating. This went on for a few minutes, and then it went away.

Here's the thing: Tuesday, i was at the top of my range. Wednesday, for no reason i can figure out, i went off the chart. Thursday, i was back to the middle of my range, maybe even slightly below.

I've had stress in my life the past week or so, but no more than i have in years past. College is stressful, and i have definitely broken down once or twice. But i was always able to pinpoint a reason, which means it was a normal breakdown and not an anxiety attack. There was nothing i could think of that could have triggered what happened. Maybe it was just a collection of little things that hit at a time when my brain chemistry was off. I don't know.

The point is, this week was the first time that i ever thought about trying a prescription. These attacks came out of nowhere. And while afterwards i was fine, i have no guarantee that tomorrow i won't be a basketcase again. I don't know what happened or how to predict it. I don't know what to expect tomorrow.

I Blame My Mother

Three years ago, in the cafeteria, i came up with a plan B: quit school and simply become the next Anna Nicole Smith.

I have always had a soft spot in my heart for cute little old men, with their cute little old manners and their cute little old hats and their cute little old too-short pants and everything. But what i never knew is that they also have a soft spot in each of their hearts for me.

One night, i was eating my dinner, when in came an absolutely adorable little old man, wearing a pin-striped fedora, and a sweater and jacket (despite the heat), even a bow tie. Let's call him "Carissa". He had these huge, bushy, pitch-black eyebrows that stood out against his bushy, snow-white hair. He was just too cute for words.

Because my mother raised me to be polite, as well as raising me with my soft spot for cute little old men, i smiled as he walked through the cafeteria. At that, Carissa came over to my table, leaned down next to me, and asked if i was Irish.
"No . . ." i answered, bemused.
"Oh. Are you Polish?" he continued.
"No . . ."
He asked me about six more of these before i finally said, "I'm a little bit German and a little bit French."
"Oh! Do you speak German?"
"No . . ."
"Do you speak French?"
"No . . ."
"Well, how come you are so beautiful?"

Between my amusement at the situation, my confusion at the leap from linguistics to aesthetics, and the general weirdness of the conversation, i began to blush. And giggle. Both of which are my reactions to uncomfortable situations, and one of which (the giggling) i inherited from my mother. I think i said something along the lines of, "Thank you. I don't know," and Carissa went back to his seat. (My friends assure me that my behavior was much more flirtatious than this, consisting of several "Yes, sir"s and "No, sir"s, all uttered with doe-eyed glances. I can honestly say that i remember none of this.)

After regaining control of myself (which took a considerable amount of time and effort, the giggles having escalated nearly to the point of making me fall out of my chair), i jumped up and raced across the cafeteria to my friend Steven, who had missed the action.

I filled Steven in on the events, and then returned to my seat, intending to collect my things and exit the cafeteria with what little remained of my dignity. But i was denied this escape by three of my friends who insisted that i stay put.
"Why?' i demanded.
"Because he is writing something on a napkin, and we think he's gonna give you his phone number," was the reply.

At this point, the giggles and blushing had me almost completely incapacitated. Falling back into my chair, i awaited my fate.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, Carissa came over to me with his napkin.

"Since you are German and French, and you don't speak any German or French, I thought you should know a few phrases," he said. Handing me the napkin, he pointed to the first one and said, "'Ich liebe Dich!' Do you know what that means?"

I actually do know a tiny bit of both German and French, so i was able to choke out the reply: "I love you."
"Yes, very good! Now, what is this one? 'Je t'aime beaucoup'?"
Ordinarily, i would have known this one as well, but at this point all rational thought was beyond me.
"Ummmm . . . " was the best i could supply.
"It's the same thing, only French," he explained.

Carissa then asked me my major, asked if i planned to get my doctorate, told me to get my master's at ENC and then go elsewhere for my doctorate (i believe he suggested a school, but i was pretty much past the point of comprehension, let alone retention, of information), and i think he may have made another observation about my beauty before leaving me. I grabbed my dishes and wallet (and the napkin, which i later had framed), and ran. My one thought was to get out of the danger zone. But on my way, the RD for the boys' dorms stopped me.

"What was he sayin' to you?" he asked, suspicious.
"Oh, umm, he asked what my major was, and he wanted to know if i was Irish and stuff," i explained, not very coherently.
"So, everything's okay, right?"
"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine," i answered, still suppressing nervous giggles.
"Okay. I didn't know who he was, so i just wanted to make sure that everything was fine."
"Yes. Thank you," i managed, before bolting for the door in a fit of giggles. I think my face had surpassed red at this point and was nearly purple.

Oh, well. There's always a silver lining. I guess that if i ever decide that school is just too much for me, i can just drop out and become the next Anna Nicole Smith. I hope my mother will be proud.

graduated?

It's been almost a month since i "walked the plank" (to borrow my grandmother's phrase), and it still hasn't quite hit me that i'm a college graduate.
Occasionally, i'll be struck with a small wave of realization, like when i realize that i will never again have the opportunity to study poetry with Kathleen McCann, or pretend to pay attention in class while really editing a poem and texting Emily, who is sitting next to me, also pretending to pay attention while texting me and reading Failbook. (By the way, for all those out there who are bothered by the use of cell phones in class, you should know that Emily passed her English senior comps with distinction and graduated cum laude, and that i passed my psych comps with distinction, my English comps with a high pass, and graduated magna cum laude.)

But mostly, it feels like nothing has changed. This is due in large part to the fact that very little has actually, concretely changed. For the last two summers in a row, i have worked at my school's admissions office. I am still working there now. The only difference is that now, i commute from my apartment instead of living on campus. Plus i have a slightly flashier title. In the fall, i will be taking classes at the same school where i got my undergraduate degrees. Granted, they will be graduate classes and will meet in the evenings, but i will be in the same buildings where i have always had classes, with some of the same professors and probably some of the same students. And there is an excellent chance that i will still be working in the admissions office.

The thing is, i really don't mind being stuck in the college mindset. Everyone is right when they tell you that your college years will be the best of your life. There is something about taking four years to do nothing but learn that is a totally unique and incredible experience.

After college, you're supposed to be pretty much done (barring any post-graduate degrees). College is a time of experimentation, but once you've switched that tassel, experimentation is over. You know who you are and what you want. You've got you all figured out.

During college, you are encouraged to make mistakes. That's how you learn. If you don't know how to do something, you can try anyway, and learn from trial and error. If you don't know the answer, you can find it. It's okay to ask; you're there to learn. You can randomly switch directions without anyone making any judgements. You can change your major, change your haircut, change your sexual orientation, go vegan, start a new sport, join a club, run for student council, break up with someone, whatever. How are you going to find out what you like unless you try everything?

After college, you are encouraged to use the lessons you have learned to do things right. You've already learned. If you don't know how to do something, why not? Did you skip class that day? Don't even try. You're just going to mess it up. Let someone who is qualified handle it. You're not here to learn, you're here to do, so stop asking questions. Why are you trying to change your life? Are you going through a midlife crisis? Don't you already know who you are and what you like? Come on, you've had over two decades to figure that stuff out. What did you do with all that time?

I wish i could be a permanent college student. I love learning. I'm a huge geek. I had two majors in college (i just used the past tense and it's freaking me out all over again), and would gladly have packed on two or three more plus a handful of minors if i'd had the money. If i could do anything with my life, i'd spend the next twenty years or so collecting multiple degrees from multiple colleges. Think about it: in twenty years, i could attend five four-year colleges. I've already got my psych and English degrees, so i could do journalism and history next. Then maybe religion, with a philosophy minor. Then secondary education (which is what my master's will be in), with maybe a minor in business administration. (Side note: by and large, i think that business degrees are bullshit. But a minor in business administration would allow me to have some legitimacy when i try to take over the administrations of various school systems). I'd want a music degree at some point. And i could finish up with environmental science and government.

But more than my thirst for knowledge and my hunger to distinguish myself (can you tell it's almost lunchtime?), i want to stay within the safe space of college. I like being allowed to experiment. I like being allowed to not know things. I like being allowed to change my mind, to take on a new challenge, to make mistakes. And i really like ramen noodles.

INFJ

Those of you unfamiliar with the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator are no doubt mystified by the title of this post. Because you're lazy and didn't either Google it or click on the link above. Seriously. If you're reading this, you're on the freaking Internet. Use it.

Those of you who are familiar with Myers-Briggs Typology are now frantically trying to remember which category is INFJ, and what the initials stand for, and what that says about me. Because you are also lazy and don't know how to use multiple tabs at once.

It's okay. I'm going to do your work for you. I will even bold the most interesting and important parts. Who determines which are the most interesting and important parts? Me. What can you do about this? Read the whole thing. Stop whining.

INFJ stands for Introverted, iNtuitive, Feeling, Judging. For those who are interested, i scored 91% on the "Introverted" scale. The rest of it fluctuates a little, but 91% is pretty damn introverted. Which should tell you a lot about me. And if it doesn't tell you anything, read on. The information in the following paragraphs is basically copied and pasted from the link in the first sentence. So why read it here instead of following the link? Because we've already established that you are too lazy and/or dumb to leave this page and do your own research.


As an INFJ, my primary mode of living is focused internally. I take things in primarily via intuition. My secondary mode is external, where i deal with things according to how i feel about them, or how they fit with my personal value system.


INFJs are gentle, caring, complex and highly intuitive individuals. Artistic and creative, we live in a world of hidden meanings and possibilities. Only one percent of the population has an INFJ Personality Type, making it the most rare of all the types. (That's right. I'm that awesome.)


INFJs place great importance on havings things orderly and systematic in our outer worlds. We put a lot of energy into identifying the best system for getting things done, and constantly define and re-define the priorities in our lives. On the other hand, INFJs operate within ourselves on an intuitive basis which is entirely spontaneous. We know things intuitively, without being able to pinpoint why, and without detailed knowledge of the subject at hand. We are usually right, and we usually know it. Consequently, INFJs put a tremendous amount of faith into our instincts and intuitions. This is something of a conflict between the inner and outer worlds, and may result in the INFJ not being as organized as other Judging types tend to be. Or we may see some signs of disarray in an otherwise orderly tendency, such as a consistently messy desk. (Or bedroom? I'm so glad my mom can't comment on this.)


INFJs have uncanny insight into people and situations. We get "feelings" about things and intuitively understand them. As an extreme example, some INFJs report experiences of a psychic nature, such as getting strong feelings about there being a problem with a loved one, and discovering later that they were in a car accident. This is the sort of thing that other types may scorn and scoff at, and we ourselves do not really understand our intuition at a level which can be verbalized. Consequently, most INFJs are protective of our inner selves, sharing only what we choose to share when we choose to share it. We are deep, complex individuals, who are quite private and typically difficult to understand. INFJs hold back part of ourselves, and can be secretive. (Just ask anyone i've ever dated, been friends with, been related to, had counseling with, worked with, or randomly encountered in life.)


But INFJs are as genuinely warm as we are complex. INFJs hold a special place in the heart of people who we are close to, who are able to see our special gifts and depth of caring. INFJs are concerned for people's feelings, and try to be gentle to avoid hurting anyone. We are very sensitive to conflict, and cannot tolerate it very well. Situations which are charged with conflict may drive the normally peaceful INFJ into a state of agitation or charged anger. We may tend to internalize conflict into our bodies, and experience health problems when under a lot of stress.


Because INFJs have such strong intuitive capabilities, we trust our own instincts above all else. This may result in an INFJ stubborness and tendency to ignore other people's opinions. We believe that we're right. On the other hand, INFJs are perfectionists who doubt that we are living up to our full potential. INFJs are rarely at complete peace with ourselves - there's always something else we should be doing to improve ourselves and the world around us. We believe in constant growth, and don't often take time to revel in our accomplishments. We have strong value systems, and need to live our lives in accordance with what we feel is right. In deference to the Feeling aspect of our personalities, INFJs are in some ways gentle and easy going. Conversely, we have very high expectations of ourselves, and frequently of our families. We don't believe in compromising our ideals.


INFJs are natural nurturers; patient, devoted and protective. We make loving parents and usually have strong bonds with our children. We have high expectations of our children, and push them to be the best that they can be. This can sometimes manifest itself in the INFJ being hard-nosed and stubborn. But generally, children of an INFJ get devoted and sincere parental guidance, combined with deep caring.
In the workplace, the INFJ usually shows up in areas where they can be creative and somewhat independent. They have a natural affinity for art, and many excel in the sciences, where they make use of their intuition. INFJs can also be found in service-oriented professions. They are not good at dealing with minutia or very detailed tasks. The INFJ will either avoid such things, or else go to the other extreme and become enveloped in the details to the extent that they can no longer see the big picture. An INFJ who has gone the route of becoming meticulous about details may be highly critical of other individuals who are not.


The INFJ individual is gifted in ways that other types are not. Life is not necessarily easy for the INFJ, but we are capable of great depth of feeling and personal achievement.


Aside from a few INTJ tendencies, this is me in a nutshell. So now you know.

pearls of wisdom 1

In all my world travels, in all my cultural experiences, in my four years living in Boston and studying psychology, in all my self-exploration, reading, and observations, i have learned two things about human nature.

The first is this: Wherever you go, whoever you meet, whatever you do, everyone in the world is exactly the same. People are just people, and no one is any different from anyone else. We all have the same framework, the same foundation. We all start from the same place, and we are all created not only equal, but identical. Everyone is the same.

The second is this: Wherever you go, whoever you meet, whatever you do, no one in the world is anything like anyone else. People come in a staggering variety of personalities and characters, and none of them are the least little bit like any other person. We all have totally different frameworks, different foundations. No one starts from the same place, and we are all created both fundamentally inequal to one another and totally different. Everyone is an individual.

Both of these things are absolute, bedrock truth.