This past week has been emotionally unpleasant, to say the least. I have been going through a very difficult time.
This past monday, I decided to attempt filling out college applications for the second time. The first time was a failure because I filled out the application wrong because of undue pressure to pick a major on the spot. I don’t know what I want to do for the rest of my life, so I’m far more comfortable entering college with an undecided major rather than saying “Yeah, I want to be a psychologist for the rest of my life even though I have never taken a proper psychology course!”
Any who, filling out the college applications was the start to my emotional distress. There was a page on the application dedicated to filling out volunteer hours, extracurriculars, work hours, etc. Most sections I had nothing to put down, which sent me into a panic attack. Clearly the empty slots were not fixable and no college would accept me because I appear to be a selfish human being who doesn’t do any community service, who has never been involved in clubs because I don’t care to learn, and who has never worked because I am affluent.
All of which are untrue, but, you know. It’s pretty easy to self deprecate.
In my “No one will accept me into college, I’ll never go anywhere in life, why did I have to develop anxiety disorder?” frenzy, a spark of rationality (just a spark, there was no fire) ignited in my brain and I realized I can gain some volunteer hours. I signed up to volunteer at a local Nursery School on tuesdays and thursdays.
I have zero experience with children.
This week has also been filled with excited seniors chattering about their upcoming graduations. Guess who isn’t graduating? This girl. Guess who would be graduating if they weren’t a complete and utter failure? This girl. Seeing my peers achieve something that is so expected of people and not standing next to them and being part of that community was and is devastating. Seeing them be contributing members of society while I sit where I seem to have always sat, in the Useless Chair. It’s heart breaking.
I am where I always have been, on the sidelines.
I am where I always have been, on the outside, looking in.
All of the talk about graduating, I will be brutally honest, made me wish I was dead. I wanted to crawl back in the womb. I kept telling myself I didn’t ask to be alive and all of this was unfair. I got mad at my parents for giving birth to me. I’m seven years apart from my sister and I can’t help but think from time-to-time that maybe the time it took to conceive me was the universe’s way of saying “Yo, the next one is a defect. You don’t want to do this.”
I no longer wish I was dead, but I am still having a difficult time coping with the situation that I have, indeed, failed in an important aspect of my life. People like me are judged in society. I judge myself. I judge my peers. I am one of “those” people.
I felt out of control. I felt detached.
Yesterday my mother brought me out shopping which made me feel incredibly guilty. I felt as though the shopping trip was an attempt to cheer me up, and I was and am extremely grateful for the clothes that my mom purchased for me, but it did not change the fact that I still did not want to exist.
It wasn’t until I had a conversation last night did I start to feel better. But I am still very much having a difficult time. I have yet to learn that it is okay to fail sometimes.