Hello all, it’s been too long.
Many things have changed since I last posted,
and things are still happening in these moments. Mainly another semester has come and gone,
and I received credit for 3 out of 4 classes.
There’s no getting around it; I dropped the ball. However, to make up for that lost credit, I
received two class credits for the price of one, so perhaps nothing of value
was inherently lost. I’m registered for
Fall as a full-time student once again, and one more semester closer to
graduating. It has come to my attention
that I will most likely be graduating a full 10 years after my graduation from
high school. Whether this disturbs or
impresses me, I have yet to find out.
For now, a cautionary biting of the lip will fit the bill as I continue
the journey.
But that’s really what I feel the need to talk about
today. I went on such a different path
than I had initially imagined. As I am
writing in my “College Days” series—spoilers!--
things did not turn out as I thought they would. I had imagined myself going to college and
getting an Associate’s degree in something Art-related, maybe working part-time
at a bookstore or some other quiet place, and then finding someone to settle
down with and marry. To me, marriage was
always the end goal. Of course I wanted
to do that. Why wouldn’t I—a straight,
white, Christian girl with modest dreams and a conservative family—get married
as soon as possible? It’s every Disney
Princess movie. It was my end game. Also keep in mind that I definitely had Special
Snowflake Syndrome with a hefty dash of Sheltered Life mixed in.
However, I had quickly found out that my expectations for my
twenties were not going as planned. It
was such a messy, roundabout method of living that I ended up having, and I’m
surprised that I am where I am today.
After my first semester of Art college, I was promptly brought back home
(twice technically, but that’s another story) and instead of continuing school,
I was given my first job at 18 years old.
That in and of itself still blows my mind. Nowadays there’s no such thing as anyone just
“giving” me a job. I got that position,
still the best workplace I’ve had to this day, because of my mother. I sat with my head down, in shame, as the
interview was conducted. It was the
worst interview I ever had from my part, and I still got to work there for
almost 2 years. There wasn’t even a part
of this story where “I learned quickly” about anything. It was painstakingly slow. I didn’t answer my first phone call to the
front desk until I had been there two weeks.
I was too afraid. But that job
helped heal me, and for that I’m eternally grateful.
I went back to college at the encouragement of my co-workers
and boss, and she hired someone new. I
spent 2 years in a local community college, taking half gen-eds and half
electives. It was the most liberal experience
I had ever had, and I blossomed greatly.
I took drawing courses, piano lessons, health and exercise, theater and
voice acting, and it was wonderful. I
was glad that I had some foresight to take Psychology, Sociology, Biology,
English Literature, and Western Civ as well.
Between classes, I spent time with new friends, dated around a bit, and
engrossed myself in my hobbies. Summers
were spent working odd jobs at game stores or temp agencies. I started cosplay and DDR in my free time,
though not at the same time. I attended
my first convention. I babysat to earn
money on the side. My hobbies were
anything but cheap. My manga/graphic
novel collection was explosively growing, as I bought up to 7 volumes in one
weekend, every weekend. And then it
happened.
I moved to Okinawa.
Being in an active military family, we were bound to move sometime. I didn’t want the fact that I was nearly 22
to deter me from going. It had been a
huge goal of mine to live in Japan. I
moved there in July of ’09, left behind many friends and a few broken hearts,
and started attending school on base as soon as I could. I was determined to get an Associate’s degree
in Japanese Language, which the university offered. To this day, it still surprises me at how
cheap that place was. As opposed to
paying upwards of $300 for used, rented paperbacks now, I bought my full
coursework and books at less than $100, brand new. I went to classes at night and worked at the
Base Exchange during the day for 32 hours a week. The system was brilliant and full of
opportunity. Of course it wasn’t going
to last. In August 2010 I and my family
were shipped back to the States, and once again I left behind my friends and
co-workers. I went from living the dream
to leaving it. It devastated me.
From then on, I struggled hard. Things were not the same. “Where had my dreams gone?” I asked
myself. I was supposed to be married by
now. I was 23 and felt so far away from
those goals I had as a teen in high school.
I persevered and enrolled in another university. For those keeping score at home, this was my
4th college in under 6 years.
But surely I was close to finishing.
At least over halfway, right? I
found out during the enrollment that not all of my credits transferred. The course descriptions were “too vague” and
I witnessed my hard-earned money go down the drain quite literally, never to
return. I was furious and beside
myself. No matter, I’ll just pick up
where I left off. Except this university
didn’t offer the Japanese degree I was working towards, not even as a
Minor. I instead settled for being an
English Major, as nothing else appealed to me at the time. Since I was experiencing a reverse-culture
shock and low-grade depression, I didn’t quite care what I did in school.
Regardless, I met up with old friends from high school and
made new ones. I tried to get back on
track with the marriage goal, but decided that I wasn’t going to disappoint
myself anymore and put it on the back burner.
My current situation just wouldn’t allow it to happen, because at the
time, my mother, sister, and I were sleeping on the floors of a tiny, two
bedroom apartment in our old stomping grounds.
Our belongings had not been shipped by the military and wouldn’t arrive
until that Spring, or another 7 months. I
attended university for 2 more years, failed many courses due to depression and
social anxiety, which I do not take medication for. In Spring of 2012 I was doing wonderfully in
three English courses, reached Finals week, and promptly folded my entire
chances of passing. I was overwhelmed
with the coursework expected of me and frankly didn’t seek help.
That summer I went back to full-time work. I was dating a guy I thought would maybe,
possibly, probably, might, and/or be husband material, and dedicated every
fiber of my being to him. We worked at
the same company and through several spats and a month-long break, it was clear
that he was not happy. We split and in a
planned retaliation, I moved away from home.
I continued working my job, hoping against all hope that I would get
some kind of break. Something had to
happen, right? I wasn’t wrong. I ended up spraining my trapezius and forced
to quit work. It wasn’t a coincidence that
I also quit because the same week, my parents moved away to be 7 hours south of
me in my mother’s hometown. Although I
was quite aware that it was for work-related reasons, the child side in me felt
abandoned.
I spent the next 4 months in a very dark depression. Nothing was worth doing anymore, not even
getting out of bed. I had enough savings
to keep me. I didn’t owe anybody a damn
thing. I considered myself lucky back
then to not have the kind of friends that randomly showed up on my doorstep to
drop by and chat, because what they would have seen would have horrified them. I eventually got help, but the damage had been
done. My money was running out. My hard earned savings was quickly dwindling
away, all because my brain decided to turn itself off in some kind of
rebellious aftereffect of my parents leaving the state. I found myself thinking the same thoughts
over and over again. “If only I was
married… If only I had someone that loved me to help me, I wouldn’t be in such
dire straits.” Why did I still cling to
those ideals?
Either way, I didn’t so much bounce back as force myself
back in an upright position. To do that,
I re-applied to work at my most previous job.
I only lasted 3 months because of two more injuries I sustained. I remember metaphorically throwing up my
hands and saying “Screw it; I’m going back to school.” So I did.
Luckily it wasn’t hard, as this was my 5th time starting up
the Education Route in my game of life.
And so here I stand today. Sadly
I’m back on the job hunt and there are no bites. As of now I’ve given up the marriage goal,
possibly for good. I do not actively
seek it and for all I know it has passed me by without my knowledge. I think I have to learn to be okay with
that.
I have definitely had a different life than I ever
anticipated in these past nine years. It’s
not strictly good, nor bad. I don’t
blame any one person or one event for what’s transpired, except myself. But I’m not in such a state of self-loathing
for that blame to give me guilt. There
are still very rare times where I can imagine myself in a bridal gown, saying
the vows, wearing the ring, and all that jazz.
But not even in my dreams while I sleep do these images appear. Not anymore.
If anything, I would imagine that it would be a hindrance as of
now.
I do not write this with a heavy heart, but perhaps a
relieved one. It’s the same feeling I
got when I left my abuser. It’s the same
feeling I got when I left the church. It’s
a great burden that has been lifted, perhaps one that shouldn’t have been there
in the first place. Regardless, life
doesn’t turn out the way I expect it to, and that’s okay.
Until next time!
