Proud of myself, I walked up to my social worker expecting praise and admission into free time. I was unfortunately denied free time because my goal was "too vague" or some other sort of BS. I sat back down more frustrated than I have ever been. Looking at the nearly-blank page was discouraging. It felt like one of my tedious homework assignments for Allison that are daunting as Hell. Close to tears, I tried to think of something more specific; I was at a loss. After another eternity, I found myself pulling at my hair. I thought about what I would be doing in this exact moment if I didn't have my long hair to fidget with. That would be hard for me. So I wrote it down: chop off hair.
What else was hard? running. Okay, I'll run a 5k. But that would be too easy. I was aiming to write down unrealistic and extremely difficult things. If I was going to do this, my sass was going to shine through like never before. "I want to run a marathon". Bam, another goal.
Finally, I tried to think of something really hard. Instantly I thought of going back to school. Just thinking about it made me nauseous. There was no way I was ever going back to Provo, let alone classes on campus. I couldn't face the prospect of failing again. So, my last item on the list just said: school. I scratched that out and rephrased to to be more specific: graduate from college. There, that's a goal. It'll never happen, but it's a goal. I kind of smirked to myself as I walked up to get it approved. For some reason, my doctors didn't think my list was funny; instead, they thought it was something good for me to work towards or whatever.
***
It would be a little while before I started to see the benefit in making goals. When I was getting ready to get out of the loony bin, I realized I didn't know what I was doing or have any sort of plan. I relied on that list of goals to give me somewhere to aim for. I told my parents that very night that I was going to go back to school. I re-enrolled in some classes and kicked butt to catch myself up. Honestly, that was one of the hardest transitions I've ever been through. I'm so grateful now, but it was long and tedious at the time.
Two months after getting out, I went out with a friend from high school and we talked all about my crazy. We talked about a bunch of things, and somehow started talking about donating our hair. That night we decided we were going to donate our hair. A week later, I chopped off my hair and donated 12 inches of it. That chop was pretty symbolic of my fresh start. Allison always told me that my psych ward check-in would be like a reset button. When I chopped off my hair, I had a physical representation of that reset. During these past two years my hair has been growing, slowly. There were months where I thought "Why did I do that? I want it back." But it has given me an opportunity to practice patience. I looked in the mirror the other day and I didn't recognize myself. I was so excited because it feels like my hair has grown back almost overnight. I looked in the mirror and realized that as much as my hair had grown over the past two years, so had I. My hair is a physical representation of the reset, but also of the change and growth I've had since then.
***
Today I'm writing for another reason. I didn't chop my hair off and I definitely haven't run a marathon yet. But I still did something huge: I graduated from college. It's a big day in anyone's life, let alone mine. When I made my "unrealistic" goals two years ago, I couldn't imagine myself in those long blue robes. I couldn't picture myself walking across the stage to collect my empty, plastic diploma cover. Two years later, I graduated from college and accepted a job for next year. Despite my psychotic break-down two years ago and dropping half of my classes, I did it. I graduated with my best friends in the whole world and am moving on. I overcame every disadvantage and trial thrown my way. Not necessarily tactfully (because what fun is that?), but I did it. I have finally put these four years behind me. I no longer have to live in the shadows and memories of the darkest times of my life. I can move forward and be who I have been working towards becoming.
Although it is sad to leave behind this part of my life and the people I've met here, I am excited to start fresh. Here's to my second fresh start (although I don't need the physical reminder this time, thank you). Here's to starting a new life. Here's to a new me. Here's to accomplishing something hard. Here's to everyone who helped me get through these four years of Hell. I owe you big-time.
What else was hard? running. Okay, I'll run a 5k. But that would be too easy. I was aiming to write down unrealistic and extremely difficult things. If I was going to do this, my sass was going to shine through like never before. "I want to run a marathon". Bam, another goal.
Finally, I tried to think of something really hard. Instantly I thought of going back to school. Just thinking about it made me nauseous. There was no way I was ever going back to Provo, let alone classes on campus. I couldn't face the prospect of failing again. So, my last item on the list just said: school. I scratched that out and rephrased to to be more specific: graduate from college. There, that's a goal. It'll never happen, but it's a goal. I kind of smirked to myself as I walked up to get it approved. For some reason, my doctors didn't think my list was funny; instead, they thought it was something good for me to work towards or whatever.
***
It would be a little while before I started to see the benefit in making goals. When I was getting ready to get out of the loony bin, I realized I didn't know what I was doing or have any sort of plan. I relied on that list of goals to give me somewhere to aim for. I told my parents that very night that I was going to go back to school. I re-enrolled in some classes and kicked butt to catch myself up. Honestly, that was one of the hardest transitions I've ever been through. I'm so grateful now, but it was long and tedious at the time.
Two months after getting out, I went out with a friend from high school and we talked all about my crazy. We talked about a bunch of things, and somehow started talking about donating our hair. That night we decided we were going to donate our hair. A week later, I chopped off my hair and donated 12 inches of it. That chop was pretty symbolic of my fresh start. Allison always told me that my psych ward check-in would be like a reset button. When I chopped off my hair, I had a physical representation of that reset. During these past two years my hair has been growing, slowly. There were months where I thought "Why did I do that? I want it back." But it has given me an opportunity to practice patience. I looked in the mirror the other day and I didn't recognize myself. I was so excited because it feels like my hair has grown back almost overnight. I looked in the mirror and realized that as much as my hair had grown over the past two years, so had I. My hair is a physical representation of the reset, but also of the change and growth I've had since then.
***
Today I'm writing for another reason. I didn't chop my hair off and I definitely haven't run a marathon yet. But I still did something huge: I graduated from college. It's a big day in anyone's life, let alone mine. When I made my "unrealistic" goals two years ago, I couldn't imagine myself in those long blue robes. I couldn't picture myself walking across the stage to collect my empty, plastic diploma cover. Two years later, I graduated from college and accepted a job for next year. Despite my psychotic break-down two years ago and dropping half of my classes, I did it. I graduated with my best friends in the whole world and am moving on. I overcame every disadvantage and trial thrown my way. Not necessarily tactfully (because what fun is that?), but I did it. I have finally put these four years behind me. I no longer have to live in the shadows and memories of the darkest times of my life. I can move forward and be who I have been working towards becoming.
Although it is sad to leave behind this part of my life and the people I've met here, I am excited to start fresh. Here's to my second fresh start (although I don't need the physical reminder this time, thank you). Here's to starting a new life. Here's to a new me. Here's to accomplishing something hard. Here's to everyone who helped me get through these four years of Hell. I owe you big-time.
