Grand, evidently I wasn’t connected to the internet last night when posting, so those who tried to initially read the post, only got a subject line. And I get to write the post again and rehash my feelings over the past few days, focusing on two days ago (Wednesday). Since I need to put most of it out there and trying to figure out ways to heal, this post is going to be full of inserts. Hey, everything’s a little better with pictures!

I decided it would be beneficial if I started out with an e-mail I sent to K on Sunday, hours after our session where my lack of support was the main focus and K seemed to be annoyed that I was back at square one. I refused to believe I was back at square one and sent the following:

It wasn’t until later Monday afternoon I received this response, no doubt though K had been fully supporting B throughout this time. This is K’s reply:

I replied back in less than an hour, take note to the last sentence of the e-mail:

This was BEFORE I knew anything extra had been occurring between K and B. I’m practically begging for support, saying how much I need it, asking a direct question. I have yet to hear back from this e-mail. What I did get was this, on Wednesday afternoon via text from K.

There’s a lot I’d like to say to this, such as:

-What makes you think I want to talk to you?

-You think you deserve my money?

-Why would I drive two hours, using gas money I don’t have to come get a slap in the face?

-For what?

-Are you going to come to me?

-You really don’t see how your actions have affected me, do you?

Yet, I’ve not responded. I have a lot of negative energy festering within me. None of these responses would be particularly productive.

Every week I had a card that I give to K which outlines my emotions for the week, written down daily. This is mine for this week:

Yeah, definitely not ok, and haven’t filled the card out since.

To make matters even more confounding, I received this e-mail from the head of Study Abroad Wednesday afternoon:

You’d think going to a school with approximately 1,000 students and maybe 100, probably more like 50 (or less) of these students applied to study abroad this fall, that maybe, just maybe they could take the time to insert my name into this e-mail. I went immediately to the study abroad office after receiving this e-mail. Actually, first I started twitching and almost had a stress seizure and was on the verge of a major meltdown. I took some deep breaths, thought about how I wanted to come across to the director, whose shares the same name, to top it all off with K. How fitting, lies all around, withholding of truth, all around.

College K couldn’t even give me a specific reason as to why I wasn’t accepted by the school’s study abroad committee (done internally, not to where I’m actually planning on studying abroad. Everything she said to me was in blanket statements. She speculated that perhaps it’s because I’m a transfer and the committee wanted me to become more acclimated with this school. As if a full academic year isn’t enough? She also said maybe I wasn’t specific as to why I chose to study abroad in the fall. She said and I will, “fight for this” followed by, “I can’t promise you that the decision will change.” I will study abroad this fall.

I WILL PETITION THIS. I will study abroad. I will go to the supervisor’s supervisor. This WILL happen. School is the only thing keeping me alive. Without this study abroad experience, many things about school fall out of place; my decision and connections to attend medical school abroad, which ultimately leads to my career as a physician abroad.

You know one of the worst parts? A few weeks ago I asked a group of friends how long it usually takes to hear the committee decision to study abroad and was told by friends that though they didn’t know how long it would be until I heard the decision, they’d NEVER heard of someone not getting accepted. When I mentioned this “rumor” to college K, she said, “actually 25% of people weren’t accepted for the fall term” I’m thinking, “OH DID ONLY 4 PEOPLE APPLY?” You do the math.

My application was crisp, clean, and reviewed multiple times by my advisor and myself. In the application there are a few medical-related questions, such as allergies, ever been hospitalized, have a psych condition. It was also noted “Your answers to these will not affect the committee’s decision”. I checked yes to all three of these AND attached a one page, single-spaced explanation as to how I manage each issue, and how I’ve worked and volunteered for extended periods of time in the past.

Bullshit. Absolutely bullshit. You really want to tell me that my application, along with a GPA higher than 3.0 (3.0 is generally minimum GPA required) wasn’t sufficient? Then something else racks my brain. What if my recommendation letter wasn’t decent? What if it completely didn’t recommend that I study abroad?

I sent my petition in on Thursday morning, after my advisor reviewed it again, saying it was, “a good document”. This is nonsensical and unjust. I HATE THAT MEDICAL REASONS CONSTANTLY HOLD ME BACK IN LIFE BECAUSE OF OTHER PEOPLE’S BELIEFS ABOUT WHAT I CAN DO. This happened at the resort that I worked at too, and sometimes have cost me jobs. I hate that I am sooo honest that it hurts me, even when I think people will have only the best intentions. With all of my exposure to horrific events, you’d think I wouldn’t be so naive and trusting. Rarely can I actually imagine that someone is lying or evading the truth. And yet, they are. Most people can’t handle even hearing about what I’ve been through, so when a piece of my life is laid out on a piece of paper, it still comes with people applying their restrictions on MY life since it’s as though I’m a piece of crystal, so fragile, so in need of constant OVER PROTECTION that in actuality doesn’t benefit me, merely hurts my chances to thrive.

Considering that I’ve had a lot of things thrown in my face and continued to persevere, I can only hope I’ll continue to get my strength from somewhere. It’s getting harder and harder with each passing day. My initial instinct upon being deferred to study abroad was to self-injure. Problem with that is that it’s practically summer and the temperatures resemble that of a summer day. I hate being hot, and I don’t want to be subjected to the third degree by anyone. So what have I done? Well, the invisible self-injury. This one commonly goes by the pronoun “Ed” to play on words.

I’ve restricted my intake to the point that by Wednesday I’d lost 6 lbs in less than 2 days. Granted, much of this is water weight, except I haven’t wanted to stop restricting. It’s way easier to feel physical pain than emotional pain. At the moment, I don’t feel much of either.

I’m torn too because I want so badly to talk with someone who understands my situation. The closest person to that would be C. However, if I told C, there’s a good chance she too would be ripped apart, devastated, and right now there’s no need to spread the pain I’m feeling to another person. At least I have the decency to recognize that telling her would do more harm than good.

On to the good news of Wednesday. There was a pre-brief meeting for the Alternative Spring Break I’ll be attending next week. During the brief, a man from an organization in town working with the homeless came to speak to our group.

I absolutely despise people mentioning skin color as a factor, and even have said to multiple individuals, “You’re not black, you’re a shade of brown, we’re all just shades of brown. The only difference between you and me is that one of our skin absorbs more melanin than the other’s.  The only people who can say they’re white are people with albinism because they truly are, their skin doesn’t absorb melanin. Now if we want to talk about cultural differences, let’s talk cultural, NOT skin color.

In this briefing, we went around the circle talking about any previous experience we’ve had with the homeless population and our thoughts about those experiences. A common theme was that people worked in a soup kitchen one or two times, and had skewed perceptions about people who were homeless, often attributing it to mental illness. When it got to my turn, I mentioned my variety of work with homeless populations, concluding by saying, “I’ve also experienced homelessness.” Imagine the look on the faces of most in the room, most who are of “minority” status by skin color. It was something to the effect of, “WHAT? The white female doesn’t have a perfect life?”

Growing up, my biggest fear was becoming homeless. I was even told I’d never be homeless. Well guess what? It happened and I somehow made it through that period. It will likely happen again, I’m not going to pretend to shove it under a rug and store it there for decades. At the end of the meeting, people talked about where they’d be staying before and after our trip. One person didn’t have a place to go and someone recommended she talk to residential life to stay in the dorms for those periods. I wished her luck being that I had a big incident with residential life prior to winter break. Summing it up, I was assured I could stay there without any mention of additional fees. The week before finals I was told this was not a possibility and VERY LONG STORY SHORT, that’s how I ended up back at the sober living.

I went to residential life to see if my chance of staying may be favored this time by the fact that I was participating in alternative spring break. I got a harsh greeting from the director, and much attitude, except that after that, I was approved to stay in the dorms (which are otherwise considered closed for the break). This is a BIG relief because I was going to stay at another sober living that I was going to have to pay for and realistically, I can’t afford. Plus, I was going to have to sleep on the couch as they didn’t have a bed for me.

After this, I went to dinner and was sitting alone. I looked up and saw a girl who asked me to sit with her the other week. At the time I declined her request, saying that I was going to sit at another table since I hadn’t seen people there in a while. That was a white lie. In truth, I imagined our conversation to be really awkward. She speaks in monotone pitch, and that can be awkward. However, she was sitting alone too, and it didn’t make sense to me that we both eat alone, feet from one another. I joined her, and you know what? I WAS WRONG. She may have a monotone voice, except she has so much more to offer than that. She has a good soul, and she is a really good conversationalist. That’ll be hopefully the last time I jump to major conclusions and don’t step out of my social comfort zone in similar social situations. She is so kind. My own discomforts and assumptions held me back. You know what happens when someone ASSuMEs…

I still feel queasy and a bit uneasy. That is most likely due to the lack of nutrients I’ve consumed over the past three full days. Eating disorders, the invisible pain, the pain that even when you’re not eating, eats you… from the inside, out.

Though I still believe in Karma, a final thought:


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