Monday, November 9, 2015

Senior Year: Afterwards

Part: 4 How Sad.
Part 3: It's All One Big Mood Swing
Part 2: Why Bother?
Part 1: Senior Year 2007 

This is the story of the first couple of months of my senior year in high school.
While definitely not a fascinating story, it's something that I would remember every September for years afterwards. Thankfully eight years later now it's all behind me and the only real reminder is that I am who I am today partially because of those few months.
My two main reasons for sharing this is because 1) It happened and 2) I've been wanting to share more of myself here.
This is going to be part journal entries from the time and part me now explaining everything (or at least trying to).

Because once you've fallen... people feel the need to point it out?

Whenever I think back on my senior year of high school, I'm always thankful that I never got to a point where I decided to do something drastic.
It might have been a passing thought from time to time but I always managed to steer myself away from them.

But the one thing, or person, that makes me think of it is always my counselor. The one person I went to for help and was turned away because she didn't have the time and wasn't "doing that right then." It wasn't even personal help I was looking for, all I wanted was a class change. Just one weight lifted off my shoulders.
But no.
Go forth and fail Diana.

And fail I did.
Couple of months later she called me in to inform me of that fact, and said that she remembered me going in and asking for help.
This is where I'm thankful that I didn't go to her with anything drastic. She'd be the one telling people that I was a good quiet girl, who asked for help but wasn't expected to actually do what she was threatening to do.

Note about me: I always do what I say I'm going to do.

It wasn't until maybe four months later that she decided to ask if I was depressed. Once I had managed to work through it.
And she did it in front of my mom like she was trying to say "Look, I'm going to uncover something you didn't know about your kid."

Anyway back when I was still actually depressed, I wasn't doing too great in any classes. Which added guilt to the mix since one of them was journalism and they kind of needed me to work.

Suddenly my parents were very interested in teacher conferences. Where they were informed that I was not doing well. Where one teacher informed them that if things didn't change I wouldn't graduate. Which led to my father apparently losing all hope (and I thought I had already done so), deciding I had no chance and that I was already a loser in all that I did.
If that doesn't pick a girl up I don't know what would.

No surprise that I'm not smiling in any pictures from my graduation with him.
Because of course I graduated, even managed to pass that class I was failing.

I'm going to guess my parents didn't talk to my chemistry teacher, who was also the only one who'd known me for more than a few weeks (including my counselor), since he's the one who took me aside and basically said "What the hell is going on with you? You're better than this."
Of course, in my state I just started fighting back tears and told him nothing was wrong.
What was I suppose to say? I've given up? I don't know what I wanted in my life?

At the end I probably couldn't answer what the hell was wrong with me because even I couldn't define it.
It wasn't because of a guy or because I had fallen in with a "bad crowd," or what ever other reason people can come up with for a teenager acting differently.
It was because I had been ditched and I was lonely.
As someone who still lives a pretty lonely life I can honestly say we're not an open bunch when it comes to that topic.

Eight years later I am still thankful for that confrontation. While nothing came of it, I'm glad to know someone was there to try.

I made a new friend, who unfortunately I was unable to keep in touch with after graduation. I was once again checking out of my reality, this time because I was in a "What now?" mind frame and as a graduation "gift" I was given my sister's two year old to care for. 24/7.
Just what every 18 year old wants right? Mommy duty.
No, no I don't need to take time and figure out what I'm going to do with the rest of my life, (because my counselor told me not to over worry it and just focus on getting out) give me your son.

But, anyway, I did make a new friend who shared the same views as I did on the world. And it was... nice. As nice as can be with me just waiting for her to find someone else.

I survived. It was nothing like I thought it would be, and I can't say there are any real memorable moments. Or any moments I care to try to remember. But I came out of it a slightly different person.
Because a lot of people told me so. And I knew it too.
I was more mellow and open to things. Even people at times. I grew a bond with my entire family (entire meaning aunt, uncles and cousins. When it comes to my dad, well, you read what I wrote. We're hanging on though).

I know after going through something, people will say they wouldn't wish it on their worst enemy. But I think I would. But then again I'm driven by revenge. It's what got me past everything I went through, they knocked me down and while I had no intention of doing that to them I wanted to rise above them in the end.
So maybe I'm not wishing depression on them or even a loss of hopefulness, and maybe they're not my "worst enemy." But if they could feel that loss of security, the sense that someone will always be there for them just for a moment.

I wrote that in a present tense but since I'm thinking of them back then, it probably should have been past.
Because it is the past. I never saw them again. I can't even say what the last time I saw them was. (Well except that one time one of them needed something.)
Are they happy? Have good careers? "Amazing" boyfriends/husbands? Kids?
Or are they stuck in dead-end jobs, lonely, with kids?
I might never know. And as curious as I might be, I'll probably never care enough to find out.

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