What College Taught Me

So . . . I left college.

One month later, it’s still hard to say that out loud. I went to Chili Night at my church last week—which was largely to please my mom, who thinks I don’t get out of the house enough—and college came up quite a lot. Most of the people at the event were under the impression (rightfully so) that I was still at college and was simply visiting for the weekend. And even though their reaction when I explained that, no, I’d medically withdrawn from my school and was back home for an indefinite amount of time, was overwhelmingly positive, the truth hurt nevertheless.

My last blog post (from two months ago) was essentially a six-hundred-word tangent on why Orientation is the absolute worst. But, as it turns out, Orientation was a merely warm-up jog for the uphill marathon that was college—and I hate running. To say that my college experience was a disaster would be an understatement. In every way that I could have failed, I did on an epic level. But hey, I learned some things along the way, and I thought they’d be helpful to share so something good might come out of this mess. So without further ado, these are the six biggest takeaways from my short-lived college experience.

Number one: Traditional education isn’t right for everyone.

Just because something works for most people doesn’t mean it will work for me. This seems to be a trend when it comes to my education. In high school, I had an Individualized Education Plan (IEP) that gave me certain privileges—such as my part-day schedule—so I could coexist with my healthy-minded peers. And while there were still many challenges I faced, in hindsight, I doubt I would have survived without my IEP.

I didn’t have an IEP in college, and, after nineteen years of having a fairly structured and sheltered homelife, being thrust into an unfamiliar environment with thousands of strangers was a complete shock to my system. As I was riding a crammed elevator to the fourth floor of my new dorm building, I was struck with the realization that, for the first time in my life, I was on my own, and there was still so much I didn’t know. I’d been so reliant on my parents—especially when it came to food—that the thought of everything that could go wrong now that I was left to my own devices terrified me. Even though I’d done a lot to prepare myself, in that moment, I found myself wondering if it was enough.

Number two: Even the best thought-out plans can flop.

When I began touring colleges in spring of 2018, I had certain criteria to determine whether the school would be a fit. Firstly, it had to be on the smaller side. Secondly, it had to focus, to some degree, on the arts. Thirdly, it had to have substantial mental health services. Fourthly, it had to be unaffiliated with any specific religion. Finally, it had to be within two hours from home.

Once I was accepted into college—my top school, for that matter—I took a number of precautions, such as finding a therapist near my campus and applying for a single room, to make sure that my transition was successful, which it was . . . in the beginning.

And then I relapsed (whoops). Without going into too much detail, basically everything went awry, and I couldn’t deal. Fed up with life, I started sleeping more and restricting food. I stopped going to classes, and then the dining hall, and before long, I wouldn’t leave my single other than to use the bathroom or get a glass of water. It felt like all the progress I’d made and everything I’d worked so hard for was falling apart right in front of me, and I couldn’t stop it. I kept trying to convince myself that it was just a phase, and that something good would finally happen, and I’d be able to climb out of the hole I’d fallen into. But as days went by and nothing changed, I realized that if I didn’t take action soon, that hole was only going to get deeper. So one afternoon, as I lay motionless in bed like a depressed zombie, I did what anyone who desperately needed to be rescued would do and called my mom. With tears streaming down my cheeks, I told her that I couldn’t do this anymore and begged her to take me home, which she did.

Number three: Asking for help is not a sign of weakness.

I think the greatest lesson I’ve taken away from this whole ordeal is that asking for help doesn’t mean I’m weak. In fact, that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Accepting that I’d failed and my mental illness had won was the first step to healing. Had I kept lying to myself, I might have never found the strength to call my mom, and while I wish I’d reached out sooner, in hindsight, it could have been so much worse.

Number four: Relapse doesn’t equal failure.

This one is hard for me, as there are still times when I feel like I’ve let myself and my family down by withdrawing from college. But then I remind myself that recovery isn’t linear. Recover is like a roller coaster ride: bumpy, unexpected, and full of so many twists and turns that at times, I simply want to hurl myself over the rails in frustration. As for relapse . . . relapse is horrible, but it happens, and it’s not my fault. I didn’t choose to be sick after all.

Number five: Relapse isn’t the end of the world.

Just because I took a couple steps back doesn’t mean that all the progress I’ve made has been for nothing. This is simply another hurdle I must overcome, and that’s exactly what I plan to do. I’ve been home for a month, and while my mental health is far from perfect, I think I’m headed in the right direction. I’ve started writing again, I’ve applied for several book events, and I’ve even been taking driving lessons, which will hopefully pay off at my road test tomorrow (pray for me). I don’t know what will happen in terms of my education, but thankfully, I have plenty of options from online schooling to community college to getting a job around town and growing my bank account. And if there’s one thing I’m sure of it’s that recovery is still very possible. My mental illness may have won this time, but it won’t defeat me in the long run.

Number six: Communal showers are terrifying and should be avoided at all costs.

Seriously. Forget ghosts and ghouls and werewolves and whatnot; this spooky season, the scariest thing of all is communal showers. Happy Halloween!

One Comment on “What College Taught Me

  1. Your thoughts, insights and problem fixers are an inspiration! Thank you for sharing your light with the world! 🙂

    Like

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