Three Wishes

A Reality that Students Face as Seniors

Hey guys,

As you can see from my sporadic posts I've been all over the place lately. Lately, everything's been out of place for me.

I like to think of myself as the "mom" friend. The person you go to when you're on the edge and need someone to bring you back behind the line. The friend that makes you feel at home...

No one's ever asked me why I like to be this archetype of a friend but I'll tell you. It's to feel needed. If I'm needed then I HAVE to put my problems aside to help them. It's a way to bring my mind off my own problems. By making someone smile I feel better. It makes me feel like I'm a part of something.

When I was younger I desperately needed someone like the type of friend I strive to be. If I act the way I am then someone won't feel as alone as I did because it was really shitty to not have anyone to talk to. I relied on logic to navigate through life and this is not to shit post on anyone I know. I recognize that I was the type of individual to bottle things in. I was my own tropical island; from far away I look like I'm confident and in paradise but in reality I'm isolated in the waters.

This past year has been pretty bad. I'm not going to lie about it. My body isn't where I want it to be. My mind isn't where I want it to be. My home isn't what it used to be. My love isn't where I want him to be. I want to desperately control all of these forces that are beyond me and it's crippling me. I'm trying to be strong for everyone else and in doing so it just makes me hate myself so much. These moments make me feel so low.

I've gained weight and it's been showing. I'm working on it but it's tough when I compare myself to others. When I compare myself to what I see in the media. When I compare myself to my fantasies. I pretend like everything's fine on the outside. I pretend to be confident in the hopes that I'll believe the lies I tell but I really just want to throw a brick at the mirror in my bathroom. I have moments where my head's above the water and then a tidal wave slaps me back under the waters of self-loathing.

This past summer I was really nervous about the new guys moving into my unit. I stressed throughout the summer cleaning everything to the point where at times I didn't even want to eat at home in fear of making a mess. A. Mess. In. My. Own. Home. I work for my neighborhood and in the month of August, I literally didn't have a day off. When roommate listings where released I contacted them to confirm that they weren't allergic to cats (I have an ESA cat). One said he was fine and the other didn't reply. I'd find out less than an hour later that he told his mom and she blew up the office phones. Once she found out that I worked at the office she calmed down because she had liked the tour I gave her. 

She got my number from her son and we had a neutral conversation but it only gave me immense anxiety. She has my number now and in the past two years of living in student housing, this hasn't happened. On the day of move-in she had her husband bring me into the unit where she told me that I had "gotten comfortable" in my home of two years and ordered me around. I told her that my possessions (extra seating and a cat tree in the common area) are things I can discuss with the boys after work.

I put my things temporarily in my room overnight because I was tired (haven't had a day off the whole month getting the development ready for move-in) and the next day before work I put my things back where they were and left for work.

After work, my coworker and I walked back to my unit together and literally the moment I opened my door one of the roommates (the one who said he was fine with my cat from the get-go) and both sets of parents whipped around and started yelling at me. I am not one for confrontation. I like traveling along the path of least resistance. But I put my foot down and argued against putting the cat tree in my room. I argued because my cat has the right to co-exist in this unit. He's here to support me and he needs a post to scratch. He will NOT be locked in my room during the daytime.

They all left the unit to speak to management leaving me visibly shaking next to my coworker. At that moment, I broke. The home I built for two years was destroyed. Not feeling safe I went to my friend's unit and cried in his closet.

Later that night the roommate that left with the parents gave a half-assed apology. The other roommate the next day just said that his mother is "over-protective". Everyone moved on like it was just another day...but I haven't. Every time I open my door I panic thinking there's an intervention group about to hound me for my life choices. My sleep drastically dropped the first week and I had nightmares about the parents.

What people don't know about me is that although I say things are "fine"...I don't get over things easily. I hate the piece of me that won't let go of those toxic events in my life. So even now, my home has now just been reduced to being a unit.

I'm in my senior year of college and I've never been more disinterested. My mind is everywhere but where it needs to be to finish. Many of my classmates from grade school already graduated while many of the friends I made at the university are graduating in December while I lag behind for another semester.

Everyone's moving on while I stay stuck in place. I stay learning lessons that are interesting but ultimately don't stick because I feel worn out. It took me to the end of my junior year to FINALLY have access to the classes in my major. So just no pressure, if I don't like my major now I'm just screwed. Now I'm in these interesting courses but I'm burnt out. I'm tired of pretending like I'm learning when in reality I'm just trying to get by to get that damn piece of paper. To then be another cog in the grand wheel of the economy: insignificant and easily replaceable.

I've been working on my personal novel for about two years (not including the years beforehand of thinking and going over the story itself) and my friends and family don't have time to read it. It fucking hurts when you badger people to read the story you spent so much time trying to create. It makes me feel like my story has no worth. It makes me feel like the one passionate thing in my life, writing and storytelling, is worthless.

I've been in a relationship for over six years...and I'm tired of not moving forward. I'm tired of pretending like I'm okay with being long distance because I'm not and haven't been for a long time...but he was in his senior year. He was finishing some last projects to get his degree. He's dealing with his family transitioning. I CAN'T TAKE BEING THE ONLY PERSON SUPPORTING ANYMORE! My heart hurts saying it but it's true. I WANT to be there for him but at this point, it feels like a job. I thought support was supposed to go both ways but how can I tell him to choose me over his family? I can't.

I was brought up to believe that I was the navigator of my destiny. That I'll get to choose where I go but since he's graduating first and he's searching for a job first then the decision's partially being made. I feel like I'm cheating on him when I look for jobs or even read about various companies because if I fall in love with a company I may have to then choose between it and him. Between my career and my relationship. So even the concept of my future is out of my hands. I want him, I need him, but I can't help but feel suffocated in a relationship that at the moment isn't even tangible. 

I've cried a lot over the fact that literally, every aspect of my life feels wrong. I feel like I'm making the wrong decisions. I feel so lost.

I think what hurts worse, or at least it hurts me more, is the fact that even as I've written all of this I haven't shed a tear. I don't know what it means. Does it mean that I'm so used to being in the chaos that my body doesn't work anymore? Do I need to be completely shattered like what happened last month to process my emotions properly?

I just want answers as I smile on.

-R