When Anger Is Justified – Part 66: Simmering: College Freshman Year – Section F

A note to you, my reader(s):

After my last post, I had to take some time to pull away because I had a melt down. I cried in a way that I had not cried about wanting to take my life back in college. I cried in a way that was quite sobering for me. The emotions were intense, and I simply did not have the energy to continue blogging until I took some time to rest.

The emotions were so intense and consuming that I even took a short hiatus from other social media. Unlike blogging, however, I have not written enough content lately that can be spun out in a certain timeframe automatically. So, my posts have been absent.

But I am back now. Thank you so much for your patience. I’m still in a process of healing.

***The following post mentions suicide. If you or someone you know is in immediate danger, call 911 or go to the nearest emergency room. You can also call or text 988 for the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline.

Simmering: College Freshman Year – Section F

That November night, which was more the wee hours of the morning, had been a long night. I had not bargained for all that had occurred after trying to down some pills before being caught red-handed by the dorm mother when she entered my room.

Had it not been for the crisis counselor who had called for a search for me by contacting all of the area colleges and universities, I do not know what might have happened to me. I may not have been here to tell my story.

The least of my worries would have been a headache that would have been abated with the two Tylenol pills that I had already taken, but I was in the process of consuming more which included prescribed medication, birth control pills, and more Tylenol. So there was no need for the nurses to pump my stomach. There was no need for anything really. I did not even need the ill advice that they gave me.

In fact, I left the infirmary feeling worse than when I had arrived all because Nurse Meany (as I dubbed her) had in no uncertain terms told me that I should have finished what I had started to save her the trouble. Her words were so damning to me that I lingered on the verge of suicidal ideation for a few weeks afterwards.

Back To The Dorms

Once I was back in the dorm mother’s suite, I breathed a sigh of release. I was tired, but my adrenaline would not allow me any down time. Although the ambiance of the dorm mother’s suite felt so inviting and nurturing, I remember thinking that there was no way I could sleep.

I felt even more anxious, and I was not sure exactly the reasons. I do remember peaking at the clock and seeing that it was around 4:30 AM. The dorm mother had prepared her couch for me as a sleeping place. She gathered a sheet, blanket, and pillow so that I could make myself comfortable. She also made us tea to drink.

Then the dorm mother sat down next to me. I knew she wanted to talk. I watched her out of the corner of my eyes. She seemed to be choosing her words carefully. I felt bad that I was putting her through the agony of finding the words. She had been so incredibly nice and supportive of me.

There was not much to say except that I had been feeling low … that I had been feeling low for quite some time. Without addressing anything too deeply, the dorm mother seemed to settle on the fact that maybe I simply was not adjusting to campus life and that I missed my family and was homesick.

The dorm mother went on to talk about her first time away in college so many years ago, and I just listened to her. Although it felt good to listen to her because of her calming presence, I was at a loss of words and just allowed whatever she said to be.

There was no use in me explaining what was really wrong with me or my true emotional state. I did not even know what was wrong with me myself, but it had nothing to do with being homesick. I was glad to be away from a narcissistically abusive home. I did not really miss my family that much at all.

My emotional state had nothing to do with adjustments to school … so I thought. Yet, the words of bullies (my former roommate and the arrogant dormmate) had sunken into my core and caused the emotional pain I already felt to compound. I guess maybe that was an adjustment because I had not made a close friend.

In retrospect, I saw that I had run away to college only to be met with the same types of problems I attempted to get away from when I was home. My parents might have physically been out of my hair at college, but they frequently showed up in the personas of college peers on campus. There was just no getting away from parents, but at the time, I did not know how to explain this to anyone because it really did not make sense to me.

Needless to say, at some point, I fell off to sleep while on the dorm mother’s couch. I awakened the next morning – only two and half hours later – for an early breakfast. I got up, freshened up, and accompanied the dorm mother to breakfast. I remember feeling on edge.

On the way to breakfast, the dorm mother shared with me that my classes were cancelled for the day … that my professor knew of my situation and the absence would not count against me. Upon hearing this, I felt immediate fear. I could care less about missing class, but I did care about professors and other students knowing my issues.

My secret was no longer confidential. How was that even possible? I felt myself to be a pot of liquid warming to a simmer. My anger was rising.

Continue to read for the next post.