.
- platonic elements, alchemical meanings
- yungian archetypes
[wait, thematically victorian alchemy?]
(you write what you consume)
{oh hai mark}
( … )
{you could say that three times you tried to "get back into college" between san diego and san francisco. and make nomenclature for ccc as "college in portland"}]
(ok noted—but what of the current day and the horrors that it is do we say?)
{i do not know}
(youre of no help)
[we do not know what the feeling would be to finish this part of the road in academia, because we arent quite there. we only have hopes. this narrative here would require a cliff hanger but i dont think any ending makes it really work?]
{what she said, i cant rely solely on dreams, if anything we just need a minimal amount plot and focus more on the atmosphere. academia as a social, public event of sorts (public schooling) has a bit of room in the speaker's experience over their life}
(this doesnt make any sense. how are we ending the piece?)
{we arent! we're creating an atmosphere. the horrors, the horrors of academia}
(wonderful procrastination technique jazz!)
{thank you!}
(so after this writing period we get to the lab report?)
{[yes]}
("the horrors")
they didnt believe me. i was wasting their time. "why didn't you go on academic leave if you knew you were sick?" my face was flush
how could i explain to them that my father needed my grant money? that he had no job and i had no job (other than college)? how could i explain that he was taking advantage of my finances and i was too naïve to see this?
a "prior existing medical condition"
how was it that someone could be expelled from college for the same reason a health insurance company denies coverage?
i was navigating the petition alone. i couldnt ask my parents, relatives, or friends for help. i put myself into a hell of my own making. the static memories hurt, the base of my skull is numb from the headache— i knew they wouldve been mean if i asked for help. if i showed any weakness in my schooling to them i wouldve gotten yelled at, belittled, and threatened.
"maybe college just isnt for you" they said and it echoed in the architecture in the back of my mind
it was 2011. my hand was burnt from a cup of scalding coffee i got at the on campus starbucks. (just thinking about it, my left hand throbs) and i was on my way to the capstone presentation for my sculpting course. i couldnt put my stuff down to get the hot coffee off my hand. i asked for help. someone, anyone, to get napkins. why do people hate me. i couldnt put my stuff down so i hobbled through campus with a burning hand. people watched. the classroom was quiet and dimly lit, i hobbled in and threw my stuff on my seat. I quickly fished out a small bottle of aloe vera from my backpack and smeared it on the back of my hand.
the professor already didnt like me, and didnt like me "disrupting class". my left hand was purple and the slime barely alleviated the swelling. i grit my teeth and apologized and pulled out my dismal capstone; a totodile plush made of paper and paper mache. it was nearly 1:1 with an actual totodile attached to my backpack
"real art takes working down the midnight candle" i was sleep depraved. i worked on the paper plush totodile every night, "sloppy", "lazy", "unmotivated", "poorly thought-out"—my ears were hot and radiated red. i already woke up to a text that morning from my mother also calling me "unmotivated" and "lazy" because i failed my art history exam
the day before i woke up to texts love bombing me over my recent baritone recital. and an hour later i received worse texts. "are you sure you'll find a job with that?" yes, please stop asking, "im just asking! im worried about you". and later in the afternoon i get a demand telling me to change my major, it was something different each time that she "thought" i would make good money with
the student psychiatrist looked me in the eyes and reiterated multiple times that i needed a support system who could help monitor my reactions to the medication. his eyes were brown, i lied and said that i did have a support system
i was drowning in a sea of bright light, and embarrassed as a panel of twelve sharks viciously tore me a p ar t
the psych had thought that i was suffering from major depression and alongside general anxiety disorder. the doctor thought my knees were suffering from a genetic disorder, the name of which i soon forgot.
and if i had been self-aware enough, and had the humility to reach out to friends and family; someone wouldve intervened. but also would i have listened?
i was (am) trying to take care of myself. i broke up with my boyfriend shortly after the expulsion, i dont want to pull you down with me i told him
he wanted to remain friends. and i wanted to remain friends too
the week before i was forced to fly back to michigan, my granny and poppy were vacationing at one of the campgrounds at disney world. pale, and tense, and choking back tears, i felt her eyes burn through me with the same piercing belittlement— my psyche was breaking
"you're just sad. why dont you just think yourself out of it?" you're wasting my time
in order to escape, i opened facebook. i opened facebook to a message from my ex-boyfriend's step-father, "dont ever contact my son again or im getting a lawyer"
and i never contacted my ex again.
i couldnt be his friend. how could i tell him what his step-father told me? how could i tell him this without escalating whatever the hell was going on at his house, and in my life, even more?
i was fighting an unknown ailment, expelled from school, jobless, and suffering from a magnitude of abuse— WHY? would i also add on a law suit on top of it?
i am sisyphus
brendon, the ex, reached out to me three years later—i cant recall his initial message. but i do remember he didnt ask why i hadnt tried keeping in touch. i think he reached out to get closure in his life, i mean, from his pov i ghosted him and ran off to california. he told me he had graduated UCF and started working at siemans. he told me that he was getting married. i hope he settled down, i hope he married rich. i hope he's scarеd of only ordinary shit
in 2012 my mother flew to florida and flew me back to michigan with her. that wasnt helping me and what i had be afraid of. she was blinded by her definition of help; get me back under her roof to "monitor" me. i had a final doctor appointment in florida and had her present. the doctor warned her not to force me to go back into college right away, and to not get a job immediately either. i had some rare genetic inflammatory disease and my mental health wasn't any better
"she needs to focus on getting better"
my parents ignored the doctors and forced me to go to a community college and pushed me to get my old job back at the newspaper. my mother claimed that this was "tough love", she was "teaching me good work ethics". and working would cure the disease and tire me out enough that i "wouldnt have energy to be depressed"
five months back in her house █ █████ ██ ████ ██████ ███ ████████ ██ █████ ██████ ██ ███████ ███████. █ ████ ████ ████ █████ ███, two of which were cops, ██ ██████ ███ ██████ ██ ███ ████████ ███ i woke up remembering none of this
i wasnt visited by a doctor or a nurse █████ ██████ █████ ████ ███████ █████████, i was visited by a social worker—███ ████ ██ ███ ████ █████ ██ ███ █████, ███ ████ █████ ██ ██ ██████ ███ ██████. ███ ████ ███████ ██ ████████ ███ ████████████
██ █ ███ ████ ████ █████ █ █████████ ████████ ████ █ ███ ██████ ██ ████ ██████. █ ███ ██ ███ ██████ ████████ ███ █ █████. my nervous system mustve shut down during this period. during this entire period—through the entire period of michigan, and then to california and oregon when i escaped her.
i tried three times to go back to college. the first two i burnt out, again. i kept in contact with my mother. my mistake. the constant texts sent me back into a freak out—or whatever it was—gaslit. chastised. failure. "i love you honey, i just want what's best for you"
my mental health improved once i found a psych and therapist who listened. and a physical therapist. in my head rapid cycling thoughts continued, but they were at least laid out in a line. the thoughts were no longer a ball of knotted yarn. i enrolled at a college in portland— i was going to graduate with an associate's in a year. but her texts. her concern trolling. her "tough love". the gaslighting—it returned. i pushed past it but my body and mind were consuming themselves
covid happened—
and then the entire west coast was on fire
she wouldnt get out of my texts—
there were no excuses, she said—
i was once again a failure and stupid, she said—
"maybe college just isn't for you"
what was the fucking point of going to college, if a catastrophe happened everytime
i failed out of college during the wild fires and i didnt bother petitioning. i no longer cared to go back to college. i set fire to the thought that i would return
in 2021 i had to move back to her house. i wasnt moving back home because i was a "loser" and a "failure", as she messaged me every morning. i moved back because everything was shutting the fuck down. my job was gone and the rent moratoriums were about to expire. i needed somewhere safe for my pet rabbits. i couldnt afford to be homeless again and to expose them to that. the stipulation to live with them was to return to college. i tried to stay firm on my boundary, and told them i would get a job instead
i was 31 and was emotionally beaten down like i was in high school. i applied to a local community college and cut myself as i had when i was eighteen
—when i also had no power or control over what college i attended, when i also had no power or control over what i was going to do with my life and who i was going to be
i never enrolled in classes
i moved into my own apartment right before Fall term started, and i lied. every morning. every belittling text. the same cycle. and i was able to see clearly the energy drain it was having on me, i could see how this energy drain had made it impossible to study
i was not in college…i realized if i ever wanted to return to college, she needed to get out of my life
i got out of hers, and ended up here