One Significant Summer

Posted: 20 J0000009UTC 2011 in Update
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

Seeing as how the summer is drawing to a close (in the Northern Hemisphere), I find this to be a bit of a relief, air temperature aside:

I moved 3,000 miles in March, with all of my belongings, couldn’t find a permanent job. I sucked it up and went 3,000 miles back from the coast I came from, different location to work for the summer. I had a pretty awesome gig, and I was prepared to be in optimal shape when the job concluded 14 weeks later. One small problem, the job concluded 4 weeks later (for me). I was let go, told it was due to low enrollment, yada yada, and forced to leave the premises within 2 hours, having no where to go. Might I mention that I worked all morning, and was in a summer planning meeting when I was pulled out for what I anticipated to be a minor incident. WRONG! Long story short, I was on a plane to travel another 1,000+ miles 5 hours after the incident.

I went to live with my dad who essentially lives in two houses, but these are both owned by his, shall we say “partner”. He was supposed to marry her in April and HE called off the wedding due to uncertainties, yet is still living in her houses. I think he doesn’t want to give up the luxury she provides, as he is too frugal to obtain residences such as hers.

Due to hers and my relationship discrepancies, he kicked me out of the house less than two weeks into my stay. I was again forced to pack my belongings in an expedited manner, all with the looming threat that it could and would be tossed onto the streets.

The car rental place neglected to pick me up, even though their slogan is “The Company that PIcks You Up” and I was stranded on a main street with 2 checked bags, a carry on, and a personal item. About an hour into this event, my father leaves with his car, only to return within a few minutes. He nearly ran me over (within inches) upon his return. On purpose, who knows?

A nice family walking by helped me carry my bags to the train station a few blocks away and prayed with and for me. It was a nice gesture.

I made it to a hostel in a major city for the next few nights. I had been offered a job at two places; one at a camp I previously attended, and one at a premier tennis center. I would have opted for the tennis job, however the supervisor got back to me the day after I accepted the offer to the camp job. I am not a taker-back of my words, so I told the supervisor that if he still wanted me after the completion of the camp job, I’d be open to that.

Working at the camp, I found was an entirely different experience than being a camper. It was still multi-cultural, and it was a consistent paycheck for nearly two months. I received an award for Counselor of the Week and voted “Hardest Worker” by my co-workers. My days consisted of anywhere from 15-18+ hour work days, which is legal if you’re salaried. I worked, and I considered that my duty; I believed my co-workers to be lazy and unmotivated. When I’m told to do something, I do it. I wasn’t going to take any chances of being let go early at this job.

At the conclusion of this job, I journeyed back 3,000 miles and low-and-behold, was told that I could have the tennis position. I figured my luck was changing for the better; I was thrilled. I was supposed to work M-Th, 7 hour days. It would prove to be hard to locate a residence for a short time period (only 1 month until school began), yet I was determined to make it work.

The first day on the job, I only worked a three hour shift. I contacted my supervisor, who I still have not ever met in person, and inquired about my work hours. He informed me through texting that I would only have mornings, and gave no explanation as to his reasoning-as though he had known it all along and was simply trying to get me to “cover” people, not actually fill in as an additional instructor. Though my second day, a Thurs., I did pick up the full shift, this was an exception.

Knowing I was going to continue to commute long distance and couch surf/hostel hop, I decided that it would be within my best financial and emotional interest to discontinue the employment temporarily. I knew that I would be living closer in one month. I communicated the fact that I was looking for a second job to my employer the first day I was working (with less hours than promised), and he was ok with that, or so he said.

My emotions were all over the place since I had many inconsistencies over the last few months. I know of a decent mental health hospital and was willing to an outpatient clinic I had done in the past. Though not ideal, overall, I trusted the hospital.

Intake day: Friday. I was asked if I could agree to a safety contract, and I said obviously not. The previous night and that morning, I had a dissociative psychotic episode and superficial wounds on my scalp were the result of these episodes. Note- I am NOT psychotic, though I embody characteristics of it occasionally. Sure, you might not take an instrument to your head, but can you honestly say you’ve never done something quite a bit out of the “norm”? If you can’t, you’re boring (total joke)! Perhaps you merely possess stronger positive coping skills than I.

I was admitted into the hospital for ten days, and met some amazing people. I didn’t actually talk the first two days I was there. On the fifth day of my stay, I was told that insurance was no longer going to cover my stay. Long story short, this was the straw that broke the camel’s back. There are infinite amounts of details that concur with this, but for the sake of our attention spans, I’m breaking it down into this: I didn’t want to walk out of that hospital with a ridiculous amount of debt. The average psychiatric hospital costs $1000-$2000 PER DAY, minimum.

I made up my mind after two appeals with the insurance company failed. I was ready to die, I wasn’t scared, I didn’t feel alone, I didn’t feel an absence from spirituality. To be redundant, I was ready. I wrote out a will (though I knew it may not be considered legally-binding), and I scratched some thoughts on a paper, to no one in particular.

I attempted in the hospital, and as you may be able to notice, it didn’t work. Today is the one month “anniversary” of my attempt, and I’m going to be blunt-I’m still a little pissed it didn’t work, and essentially confused. I’m not actively suicidal; I just find that I’m constantly fighting to live a productive, fantastically awesome life.

I transferred to a college where there was a HUGE housing mishap that has yet to be fully re-mediated. I didn’t make the tennis team due to my footwork. The coach said my technique was good, my instinct on the court was good, and my fitness was lacking. I can beat people on the current team; I have passion, motivation, and dedication to the sport. These qualities aren’t something everyone on the team possesses; it was self-admitted by a member of the team.

When are people going to embrace differences in one another rather than run in the other direction?

This has been a synopsis of this summer; perhaps the most significant summer I will ever endure.

Thanks for reading!

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Comments
  1. tremendous issues here. I?

    Like

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