Senior Year of College (part 1 and a half).

New start. New roles. New job.

This is the beginning of the end of a very long, very draining and challenging chapter.

I should be excited to close one chapter and let another one open but I’m not. I’m actually sad about it. I love college. I love the atmosphere. I love everything about it so this is hard for me. I’m honestly starting to get nostalgic as I drive down Avenue of Champions and Normal Street realizing that my days as a college student are numbered.

But not to get off on a sad start, let’s refresh what I’ve been up to since I last blogged.

Around the second week of July, I left home and traveled down to Bowling Green to attend the KBA Radio Talent Institute, Summer 2017. I didn’t know what to expect and I wasn’t to be honest all that excited because my main goal this summer was to study abroad but it didn’t happen and that KBA was my fallback but as the week went off, it was interesting to listen to all these people that came to talk to us about what it takes to be a successful broadcaster and what you need to do.

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After graduating from KBA, I went home, spent four days with my family before having to leave again for Bowling Green on August 1 for RA ( resident assistance ) training.

God was that nerve wracking. I didn’t know anybody of this 20+ staff and I’m socially awkward so I’m not the best at making friends but over the week and a half we spent everyday together, we all grew close to one another and I made friends, best friends.

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Master plan happened meaning Freshman students get to come to campus early for an opportunity to get to know the classes, make friends and enjoy paid festivities that the university hosts. Meaning for us, RAs, we don’t get the floor and bathrooms to ourselves anymore (if you live in a community style dorm) but also this is the first opportunity you get to mingle and become close to your floor/residents.

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Being a RA has definitely changed my life. I’ve made so many friends, got reacquainted with old ones and overall has made my college experience better.  Living in a dorm of 27 floors, with a staff of 30+, I realized how much patience I really have and that nobody likes doing anything alone. As I can list how many fun times and memories I already have and it’s only September, the bad comes with the good and that’s okay too.

Being an RA accomplishes communication skills, people skills and feels a little something in you that you didn’t know was missing but being an RA is so damn hard. It’s challenging and god, is it stressful.From building relationships with your residents, understanding that some don’t want to have anything to do with you, making door decs and bulletin boards, personalized notes, knowing 30+ girls, what they like, how needy and confused they’re going to be since this is the first time most of them have left home.

Floor meetings, In-hall meetings that last a full two hours, weekly reports, check ins, check outs, pinning to know if we’re in the building or out, weekly accomplishments, weekly goals, expressing how we feel, owning to our mistakes, craft time, LEAD and I can name about a 100 million more things.

Before I was an RA, I was a night clerk, meaning I worked 11pm-3am or 3am-7am at an all boys dorm. Checking in and out people, checking ID’s to see if they live here, dealing with drunk guys, dealing with drunk flirty guys, dealing with perverts, assholes, attending to their mail, being left vulnerable and uncomfortable with no backup on late nights and did I mention that I never slept? I probably slept 4 hours, if that on a good day. I still had to maintain schooling, good grades, eat (which, I never did) and I made up my mind that I did not want to do that again, instead I had befriended RAs and one of my best friends was an RA and they persuaded me to apply to be one.

Sure, I was a little nervous but anything was better than being a night clerk, right? So I applied, I met the requirements and I got an interview which was out of the norm. There was a group of us that interviewed at the same time by two Hall Directors and that was a bit intimidating but, luckily I have been interviewed by two people before. I answered their questions, I laughed with them and I felt like I did great. I got an email saying I passed the interview and now it was time to do the activities part. I was like, huh?

We had to solve scenarios that the Hall Directors and returning RAs  gave us with a group of 6. After we did random scenarios, we were told that we would receive an email letting us know that either a). you got the job and what dorm you were assigned to, b). you were placed in the fishbowl, meaning you weren’t necessarily chosen but you could be chose at anytime between now and during the semester and c). you did not get it.

Now I was definitely nervous as the week passed. There was over 100+ people and I instantly thought, anyone was better than I was. So as I impatiently waited and studied, I got an email saying “Thank you for your interest in HRL, right now we are placing you in the fish bowl but don’t be upset! There is plenty of opportunities and time for your name to get chosen to be apart of this wonderful family. We’ll stay in touch and good luck!” Of course I was bummed because I wasn’t first choice but I told myself to brush it off and to have a back up option of being a day clerk. The next day I checked my email and got an email from one of the hall directors in PFT telling me that they chose me to be apart of their family and I was ecstatic and definitely nervous. PFT (Pearce Ford Tower), is a 27 floor dorm with a reputation but I wanted this job badly and I instantly accepted the job.

And here I am. I love this job despite its frustrations, challenges but I met and work with some of the best people that I know and honestly, I wouldn’t trade that for anything.

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Saying Goodbye to someone who is Toxic 

For the longest time I thought about this moment. How would it go? Will it be hard or would it be easy? Will I regret it a week, month, year from now? How will other people take it? How will this affect other people? Will my decision be hard on them? Will they look at me differently? But I stopped and thought, this isn’t about them. This is about me. It’s time to stop being selfless and start being selfish.

For years I let you get away with you hurting me.  I dealt with your snide comments that you passed off as normal conversation and eventually they did become normal. I listened to your conversations about how you are this good person and that you don’t deserve all the bad ‘shit’ that life throws at you and it took everything I had in me not to roll my eyes or to laugh.

I listened to you babble about yourself. The troubles in your life, what’s exciting, your new adventures and as I listened and when those pauses of both of us not talking, I waited to see if you’d ask about me. About school, about what was going on in my life. Did you know that there was a time I couldn’t get out of bed for a solid week because my depression was so bad and I missed a whole week of classes? That I didn’t eat and I lost 15 pounds? That I was dating and was happy? That I finally felt comfortable with where I stood in life? But you quickly filled the void of the pregnant pause with more talking about yourself and I couldn’t help but to feel disappointed but why was I disappointed? It was like this every time.

I remember that morning when you called me. 7 am my time, 8 yours. I hadn’t gone to asleep yet. I answered and immediately you started screaming at me. “Why did you do this? I told you I could only pay a certain amount. You overdrawn my bank account! Why would you do this to me?” It was an honest mistake. Truly, I never read the text where you told me you could only pay less than half for my tuition. I just remember our conversation days before you sent that text where you said you could pay half. It was an honest mistake that I never read your text. I was in class and causally glanced at it.

But in your mind I did this on purpose because I’m this ungrateful child. How am I ungrateful? You actually have to do something for me to be ungrateful. Yes, you paid for my VS bill every month and I say thank you every month. But besides that you haven’t paid for anything of mine in years. I have to beg you to help my grandparents out when you previously promised that you would help them for my schooling but you haven’t paid for my schooling in years and you’ve caused a financial strain on my grandparents.

As I sat there in my tiny dorm bed and listened to you scream and belittle me of how I’m such a horrible person, how I was ungrateful, how you’ve been this wonderful and loving mother to me and that you don’t understand why I hate you, I finally had enough. “A loving and wonderful mother?” I laughed. I thought it was the funniest thing I had ever heard.

Once the dam broke, there was no closing it. No stopping the pain, the hurt, the anger that I’ve been holding in for years and I mean years. “Do you always wonder why I act the way I do towards you? You know. Don’t play stupid.” I began. “How do you expect me to act to someone who beat me, who threatened to kill me everyday? Who told me that I was nothing? I would never amount to anything? Who called me fat when I was underweight. Who continued to call me fat because I ate to feel something inside because you left me feeling so empty? Not only did you psychically abuse me, you also mentally, emotionally and verbally abused me and you expect me to act like nothing happened?”

I couldn’t stop and I didn’t want to. For years I had never confronted her for all the horrible things she did to me. I was afraid to. I didn’t know what would’ve happened. Yes I did but I didn’t want to because there was more people involved. Not with the abuse. If I confronted her, it would have consequences in my relationships with my brother, my nephew, her boyfriend who I adore, family friends and my family pets. So I tucked everything aside and let it fester for years. Let the pain and anger control my life. Swirling into deep depression and anxiety.

“I never did anything to you.” She came back. “You’re brainwashed. That side of the family brainwashed you.” She spat in disgust. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. She was denying everything. I wanted to laugh but I was so angry. I started screaming. In my tiny dorm room, at 7 in the morning. Screaming at the top of my lungs and it felt good. I didn’t care if my suite-mates heard me, or if anyone passing my room could hear me.

We stood in a screaming match. Miles and hours apart. I could imagine where she was at in her house. Hiding from my nephew and brother so they wouldn’t hear. Her bedroom door closed, her standing in her bathroom, blunt either between her fingers or placed in her ashtray. Her medium length black hair pulled up into a messy bun. Neck red from screaming with the strain of her screaming at me. Denying everything.

For me, I was standing in front of my bed. Wearing a long shirt that rested mid-thigh. My hair down, messy and tangled. My face bare and clean from exfoliating from my shower. I could feel my neck getting red, something I inherited from her. Something it did when I got angry.

We both were on opposing teams. She kept asking examples of her ‘abuse’. She even asked my brother if he knew anything about this. My brother didn’t agree but he didn’t deny it either. He lived with her. He wasn’t going to go against her but he was there for the majority of her abuse. She wasn’t the best mother to him as well and they had their own problems. But since my brother neither confirmed nor denied she took that as a confirmation that she is innocent and right.

She screamed and cursed at me and told me that she did not want me in her life anymore. I told her that the feeling was mutual and I hung up on her. I sat on my bed, shocked by my courage to finally confront her. Shocked by her refutation. I felt myself starting to shake, hyperventilate. I couldn’t catch my breath. The shaking became so strong that my teeth were chattering. The whole bed was shaking. I knew I was having a panic attack but I had never had one this bad before. I laid in the middle of the floor of my tiny room and was trying to control my crying, my breathing but nothing was working.

I immediately regretted my choice to confront her. That caused the majority of my panic. “I’m never going to see my nephew or brother.” I thought. My brother and I used to be close but where I had matured he was the complete opposite and eventually we grew apart. It didn’t mean that I didn’t love him. We shared opposite beliefs, political and so much more that talking to him became a chore but I still loved him and saw the good in him.

My brother didn’t have a car, nor a license due to his multiple DUI’s and he lived with our mom. That was a repercussion. Zack, my mom’s boyfriend was a good man and I adored him but I knew that without visiting my mom that I would never see him again. My nephew was a hard one to come to grips with. he shared time between his mom and my brother but spent most of time with my brother, which again was at my moms. I would barely see him like I did now but I lived a couple hours away from him. My childhood pets was also a hard time to adjust to. How was I ever going to see them? “I should just suck it up. Wait till they pass and then end my relationship with my mom.” I thought. “But how messed up was that? Was I?” My heart was bleeding at the thought that I was never going to see them again.

I called my grandparents and they didn’t answer. I panicked more until I called my friend. I was sobbing uncontrollably on the phone. I *sob* need *sob* you *sob* to *sob* help *sob* me *sob* to *sob* calm *sob* down. Later my friend told me she thought somebody had died that’s how bad I was sobbing.

I eventually calmed down. I slept the day away and almost half of the next. I couldn’t drag myself out of my bed to shower, to brush my teeth. I fell into a depression. Everything I felt as a child, as a victim came rushing back to me. It tackled me like a 300 pound football player.

But eventually I pulled myself together. Told myself that I wouldn’t be a victim any longer. That I would not let this, and my depression win. I started seeing a therapist and taking the steps to better myself and it helped.

My mom texted me a novel 30 minutes after our argument but I couldn’t bring myself to read it until a couple of hours. She apologized. She told me that I needed help. I eventually talked to my grandparents after I had calmed down and told me everything that my mom would call them and complain and play the victim like she always did. I told them not to answer her calls. They didn’t.

I eventually responded to her text telling her that there was nothing to talk about and that she was the one that needed help. I ignored her texts, not bothering to read them before I deleted them. It got easier and a couple of weeks went by when she never sent anything. I thought she gave up but she didn’t. She had called my grandparents to yell at them and then text me with ‘love you, miss you. Wish you would talk to me so I can get you the help you need.’ I responded with ‘there’s no use of talking if you’re going to deny everything.’

I should’ve left it alone. Not give into what she wanted. A text. We ended up getting into another argument over texting and I quit replying after awhile because what was the point?

But more harsh word were exchanged. You say that no matter what, you are my mother. You are not. You might have given birth to me but you do not earn that title. A mother is not you. It’s the complete opposite of you. They are not hurtful, selfish, unforgiving, not seeking a reward when you do something ‘motherly’.

My heart hurts at the thought of not seeing my pets. At not seeing my brother or my nephew and I know that I can work my way around and see them, my brother and nephew. But to get rid of the toxic in your life you have to make sacrifices. Hard and emotional sacrifices and you have to sit there and not be selfless anymore. You have to be selfish for the first time in your life. You have to put your mental health first. Your happiness. Your life. You have to put YOU first and that’s what I did.

There are still times when I want to break and text my mom and say, ‘you’re right. I’m wrong.” But she wins. I have to make sacrifices ones that make me want to break down. Ones that will let her win. Ones that will make me the victim again but I can’t. You can’t.

Just remember this. In order to not be a victim, you can’t let your perpetrator win. You have to do this for you. Repeat it if you must. I’m doing this for me. I’m doing this for me. End the toxic relationships in your life. It won’t be easy, it will be hard. It will be trying. You will want to give up and become submissive but you cannot.

Change starts with you. 

ruining your own happiness

 

when i get shown too much attention, I pull back. When I don’t get shown enough, I attach. Can I not be bipolar? can I not have problems with being touched? When I need reassurance I become this person that I’m not, needy and when I get shown too much, I recoil. Will I be like this forever? Will I ever let myself be happy?

As one door closes… I really want the other to open… NOW.

You know when you enter a new stage in your life, everything that you felt before slowly starts to become that fading effect in photoshop in your brain? I recently wrote a post where I’m Carrie from Sex and the City where I enjoy dating but I want a serious relationship? Yeah, well I actually hate dating now and I just want to go straight into a relationship and that’s not realistic.

I think its because I’m such an impatient person that I jump into things wanting the results now and with relationships you can’t really do that without getting burned. You have to enjoy the stage of talking, the getting to know you followed with dating and casual hangouts and you never can put a time limit to how long that will take and I think that’s where I ruin relationships but like I said, I’m super impatient.

I remember dating and talking to this guy I met in Cleveland for three maybe four months and I was getting impatient because I was constantly asking myself when things would progress. I was ready for the relationship to take that step into actually becoming a relationship and when I brought that up after four months of dating, he ghosted me. I didn’t understand what happened, where things went wrong. We were vibin’, hell he even talked about us being in a relationship multiple times but when push comes to shove and I push, he goes MIA?

Finally after letting him ghost me for almost a WEEK, I wrote him and was like okay, obviously this is an issue and we want different things by your actions and you being MIA, I just need to hear you say it. What the hell is this? Are we doing this or are we not? And of course he gave me a lame excuse, which actually he didn’t give me an excuse at all because I would ‘argue’ against it. I’m like bro, you’re 28 and you’re acting like an adolescent 14 year-old fuck boy.

But don’t people need a push to help them make that step that they’re afraid to take? But also if you ‘push’ somebody, does that also ruin the step into taking it to the next level? Am I being too pushy?

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have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror and didn’t like what you see? Have you ever been in the middle of a sentence and stopped talking because you don’t recognize the person that you’ve become?

I have been questioning everything I’ve said lately. How I’ve said it. Why I’ve said it. What drives me to act the way that I do. I don’t think I’m the worst person but I’m not the best either. I’m impatient, I’m cruel, I say I’m blunt but in reality I’m mean and unapologetic about it too. I’m selfish even though I dislike selfish people. I’m a hypocrite. My first thing I tend to do is lash out at people and it’s scary to realize how natural that comes to me.

I honestly question how I have the great friends I have now all the time. I don’t understand how and why I’m like this. I think back to my childhood a lot, especially how my mother was/is. My mother was a very angry woman who did a lot of backstabbing, gossip and talking behind her friends back. She constantly threatened people due to her position in power that she had at the time.

I had made a vow to never end up like my mother. Our relationship is unhealthy. Almost nonexistent. But as I stopped in the middle of a conversation I was having, I almost broke out into tears. I was my mother. Over Spring Break, I did something unnecessary and childish, posting a post on Tumblr about seeing ex friends and letting my anger take over, I shit talked about he encounter we had, which I didn’t think would blow back in my face and it did and I take full responsibility for that. I let my anger get the best of me and I lashed out on social media, which is something my mother does.

Why does it come natural to me to lash out in the most hurtful way? I’m an ugly person. I’m 24 and acting like a child. Why can’t I just let it be and let go of my anger or handle it healthy? I know change starts with me but how do you break such an unhealthy habit? I don’t want to be my mother. There is nothing good in her and that’s a fact. I want to be able to be proud of the person I am. I want to have a conversation that’s bubbly, happy and healthy. Not negative and unhealthy. And granted now all of my conversations are like that.

My friends say I’m caring, empathetic, sympathetic, a good listener, etc. and I see that as well but I can’t help but to focus on the negative because that’s the part I want to change. I love the feeling that my friends come to me to tell me things because they trust me and I want them to.

I just want to change the part where if something happens that rubbed me the wrong way, I let it go instead of instantly complaining or saying something hurtful. I used to write down my feelings, never shared my feelings with anybody because I didn’t trust anybody but that was a positive enforcement. Maybe I should go back to that and stay to myself until I cool down and get over whatever caused me to be angry/annoyed.

I just want to be a person that I recognize, that I’m proud of. That is happy and healthy.

 

Relating to the Sex and the City character’s in your 20’s

So I decided to rewatch Sex and the City for the hundredth time. I tend to find myself rewatching SATC at different points in my life. I first watched SATC at 20, immediately obsessing with Carrie Bradshaw and her best friends.

When I was 20, I found myself relating to Charlotte and her need to get married. How she thought she found the perfect guy but he ended up being the imperfect man and how hopeless she felt that she was going to end up alone

At 21, I found myself being Samantha. Confident in my looks, body (even though she always touched hers up with Botox) mines a diet and a little exercise. I didn’t want a relationship but if it happened I enjoyed it until I didn’t. I loved where I was at in my life.

At 23, I was in my Miranda stage. So dedicated and focused on my career, in my case, school that she enjoyed the casual flings and short relationships but wasn’t bummed when they ended.

Now at 24, I found myself relating to Carrie and her relationship with Big. I thought I had my BIG love but it ended for good. It was BIG when it lasted but it was for the best. I enjoy dating, I meet a very interesting handful of men. It opens me up to new things that I never thought I’d be open up to. But I also want a serious relationship. I’m not pushy but I’m annoyed that it hasn’t happened. I’ve been single by choice for a long while and I thought that dating for a relationship would be easy, I was wrong.

The rules of SATC doesn’t help you get a boyfriend, those roles are fictional plus those rules count for the late 90’s, early 2000’s.

As much as I love SATC…. can we have a revival? An up to date version so I know how this dating thing works at 24?

Hello 24, Goodbye 23

February 21, My Birthday.

As I celebrate coming into another year of life, I reflect on my old one. 23? What have I accomplished at 23? Another year at school? A semi-decent love life? Hell, honestly I haven’t achieved anything. Or so it feels like. Almost everyone that I know at who is 23, has graduated from college and started their adult life. And just because I’m 23 and am technically an adult, I’m not adult in standards.

“Don’t let those standards define who you are…” blah, blah, blah. But we all do, to a certain extent at least. I never felt bad for being the age I am and where I am in life. Hell, I was comfortable with where I was in life the week before my birthday. People in my class found out it was my birthday, (maybe I dropped some hints) but when they asked how old I was, it was like the most ridiculous thing they’ve ever heard. “You’re going to be 24? What year are you? A junior? What have you been doing with your life?” And as I laugh it off, it stung because it’s been the question that I’ve asked myself the most.

What have I been doing with my life? Well I’m finishing up school, enjoying my new friends. Living life day by day, taking care of myself, doing new things. Stepping out of my comfort zone and that’s terrifying for me. I haven’t let my mental health issues define me and I’m going to continue to do that as I enter 24. 

I guess I’m in my mid-twenties and that terrifies me. As someone who is a planner, a person who has to follow some set of rules or guidelines, hell even do a step by step day planner, this terrifies me. I blame that on the structured childhood I had. Even though I try not to let labels or standards define me, I do it all the time but my way.

As I write this, I’ve been 24 a whole day and that’s scary but it’s okay. I expected it to be. I scared for what I’m going to achieve at this age. I’ll become a senior, I might be studying abroad, I might meet the love of my life. I might (finally) have sex. But the most important thing I’ll achieve like I did at 23, 22, 21, etc. I’ll achieve at being me, the best me I can be. And yes, that sounds so god damn cheesy but this me where I’m at in life with my mental health, it’s a good me. A me, I’m proud of.

And that’s all I can be.

 

Having a Selfish Parent/Parents

According to Webster Dictionary, Selfish is defined as: concerned excessively or exclusively with oneself : seeking or concentrating on one’s own advantage, pleasure, or well-being without regard for others.

Now we all have moments that we can say we’re being selfish but we’re usually called out on being so called selfish or realize that we are being selfish or just grow out of it.

But what if your parents/parent is selfish? How do you handle that? What do you do? Well there’s many answers to that question but honestly…it’s all up to you.

I never realized how selfish and self centered my mother is until I got into my early twenties. I went back to school and started to better myself and my mother never asked once about my education process, how I was. She constantly talked about her problems and the issues my brother and she was having. As I listened to her repeat & over dramatic stories, I thought to myself. Has she even asked how I was? Or how I was doing in school? No, she hasn’t and I’ve been back in school for a solid year now.

And that’s how our conversations went every time we talked over the phone or when I would see her in person. “Me…me…me…your brother did this to me…me…me…” If I could describe the conversations it would be how the adults sound like in Charlie Brown. As I grew more upset I realized that if I wanted this to change…I would be the one to change it. So what did I do?

I stopped calling. I ignored the calls for as long as I could or when I would answer, I kept the conversations short and simple claiming I had to do something or I would be in the middle of class, during the summer I blamed worked. I would never set a date for hanging out with her in person, I would claim that I was busy and that I would have to check and see when I could see her.

I know it might sound harsh but it isn’t. Not if you truly knew my relationship with my mother. This helped. Did she ask about me? No and I grew to accept that she would never and she realized after me breaking down and yelling at her, that I wasn’t her therapist and I was tired of hearing the same stories and she got the point. ( I don’t recommend that but it’s effective).

Dealing with relationship problems with parents is not easy. I might write more of my toxic relationship with my mother but I hoped that whoever is reading this or no someone who deals with this…helped and that you’re not alone.

Friendships.

I can’t remember if I wrote about my friendships before or not… if I have, this is an update, if I haven’t… this is a new post.

I was friends with three people for a long time. Three best friends that I never thought would not be on speaking terms… and here we are.

I could write about how many good stories I share with them but I could also write about all the horrible stories I share with them too but I’m not going to. Instead, I’m going to write about how toxic the relationships were.

Have you ever met people that were just bad seeds and everyone told you they were but you were couldn’t personally see what bad they saw until it ended? That’s the point I’m at right now. I have ended the relationships and I’m just letting go. It’s not sad either and I’m honestly surprised. But this has been a long time coming.

Meeting the friends that I have done here has made me realize how unhealthy my friendships were with these three people. How different the friendships were, how easily  I could sit here and compare them and I’m not only putting the blame on them. I have made my mistakes and done damage and I admit and take responsibility for it completely.

Writing text messages, pouring out how you feel and either getting nothing back or a short, clipped, brushed off response, is getting the answer you knew was coming. Ending the relationships were just the next steps and surprisingly easily. The only sad part is finding out how easily people can be so manipulating and are manipulated. People not wanting to take responsibility for their actions and blame you for everything. Even the wrong that they did on their own to make them look like a good friend/person. When most of the stuff that they have said to you, that you supposedly have said, you knew that they said it.

Knowing that you’re name is going to be slung through the mud because they refuse to look like the horrible person that they are and being slightly bothered by that, like any human would be. But maybe I needed to go through this to understand that the friends that I have in my life are going to be my friends for life, that they’re only spread with love and positivity and that you never have to worry about feeling left out, made fun of, put down or insecure.

Moral of the story, let negative and toxic people go from your life. That even though they might be friends or family and even both, the sooner you let go, the happier you’ll be.