I know, I know, Tom’s going to be extremely disappointed in my lack of updates. The reason is also the topic for this post.
Sometimes, you’re going to have a rough semester. You may have too much on your plate, you may be growing away from old friends, or you may be having financial troubles. Whatever it is that’s going on, it can affect your social life, your schoolwork, and so on. So what can you do? Bad things happen, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. That much you have to accept. But sometimes, it isn’t that easy.
Share time! I’ve been diagnosed with a variety of mental disorders, all of them stemming from a combination of Bipolar disorder and clinical depression. Most people wouldn’t know it if I didn’t tell them, and that’s mostly thanks to medication. With medication, I’m just like anyone else. And just like anyone else, I’m allowed to have a bad day here and there. Unfortunately, this semester has been full of them. In fact, the past two years have been full of them. Rather than focusing on all of it, I’ll focus on 2009 only.
During Urinetown’s run in February, I wound up in the hospital for exhaustion and dehydration. Two days later, I was driving through some snow in the Jamestown area, hit an ice patch, and long story short, my minivan is now a little cube somewhere. Nobody was hurt, but there will always be mental scars from that. Then March came along. Spring break! That was fine and dandy until the last day – my grandfather died, thus completing the decimation of my grandparent population. (I lost my dad’s dad and my mom’s mom when I was very young. My dad’s mom died in 2008.) Ok, so the rest of the semester went fairly smoothly. Then summer came along. I moved into a beautiful new apartment, and was completely unable to find a job. I had the summer orientation show thing, which was great, but other than that, I had nothing. On top of that, there was a friendship lost, and that didn’t make life any easier. So I went home for a while. Please note that there’s a reason I moved to Fredonia. Long Island has just become unpalatable for me. I couldn’t get a job there, either.
Then I came back here. Things were looking up. My housemate is great, my boyfriend got hired at a hotel, and my brother, who had taken a week off of work for his birthday, decided to spend most of that time here. So in the middle of September, I had a great day with Rob. Then things took a turn for the worse. See, I have pet rats. (Don’t you dare ew at me. They’re better pets than any cat I know, and they’re tied with my dog.) Samantha and Molly were closing in on two years old, which is pretty much the lifespan of a rat. Sam had gone through 3 surgeries to remove 4 tumors, and her age was really starting to show. In fact, she had gotten to the point where I had to have her euthanized. Anyone who has lost a pet will know that it’s tough. Anyone who has (deities forbid) lost a child will know how I felt. I didn’t give birth to her, she wasn’t human, but she was my baby. That was a hard hit to take. Then, just a few days later, I received terrible news. One of my relatives, Doug, had died of ALS. He was 37 years old and survived by his wife and two sons, as well as both of his parents and all of his siblings.
The opera got into full swing then, and while I won’t go into the issues I’m having there until they’re resolved, suffice it to say that things got hairy. Between classwork, homework, and taking care of the house, bills, etc… It gets crazy sometimes. And then I got rear-ended. Yeah, that’s right. While I was stopped, with my blinker on, trying to get into my driveway across traffic, I was plowed into. Yes, I’m fine, yes, the car will be fixed, and no, there was no need to go to the hospital. Please recall, however, the mental scars mentioned in the first segment of this flashback. I had just managed to bounce back from that incident when things went wrong again. Molly, Samantha’s “big sister” became very lethargic. Barely ate, drank, or moved. I realized that she was just very old and it was her time, so I called the vet to have her put down. She didn’t make it to the vet. In fact, she didn’t make it to the car. She died, cuddled up to my chest, as I was putting on my jacket. Admittedly, it was very much in her style to do things her own way, and she really disliked going to the vet. So she opted out of being poked and prodded. It was peaceful, it was painless, and it was on her terms, which helped just a little. And the hits just keep coming. Last night, after a whole mess of work at the opera and my house, I was informed that one of Doug’s older brothers, Gary, died Wednesday morning. I’m not certain how old he was, but he wasn’t “old” by any means. He is survived by his two sons, his wife, his parents, and all but one of his siblings. Gary was one of the people who meant the most to me because he made my grandmother incredibly happy, and as she was my “other mother”, anyone who made her happy was immediately a saint.
Dealing with bad things, like death, accidents, and changes in friendships is not always easy. Sometimes, you can get over it quickly, but other times, it just doesn’t work that way. For years, I refused to get help because I saw it as a “weakness”. I was incredibly stupid back then. I’ve since gone to seek help, and let me tell you: it works. Lograsso has a counseling center, where several counselors are available to help you through bad times. There’s a crisis team for emergencies, and much as I hate to admit it, it’s something I’ve used. And that’s what the counceling center is there for: to be used. If you can find help within your circle of friends or your family, great! But if for any reason you need more help, don’t hesitate. Like every other doctor, they can’t divulge information to your parents unless they feel that you’re a danger to yourself or others. And for those of you who are concerned that someone might see you there and think you’re crazy, don’t worry about it. If your friends are going to think less of you because you’re talking to someone, then your friends suck.