breezeshadow: Is it not adorable? (PumaKitten)
Brittany ([personal profile] breezeshadow) wrote2014-02-19 08:34 pm

Getting some Garbage out of my Head

If I was just plain stupid, I think I could deal with it better.

Now granted, my brain is two-sided about my intelligence. Most of me, like 90%, thinks I'm a dumbass. Pure and simple. I'm an idiot, all those people calling me smart are being nice or flat-out liars. But there's the smaller part going "No. No you aren't stupid.

"You didn't do awful in college because you were STUPID."

But see, I could HANDLE that better. If I was just a dumbass then psh, bad grades in college were inevitable! Nothing I can do about that; can't change the fact that I'm stupid, so just move on with your stupid life.

No. No instead there's the realization that my grades were poor because I am mentally ill. And Gannett was fucking useless at getting me to a state where I could do well.

But that's where the pain, the regret, the GUILT comes in.

I should have taken charge! I should have asked for accommodations. I should have asked for a cheatsheet for every exam; then, I wouldn't have gotten an 11 on an accelerated physics course because I panicked and forgot literally everything I knew. I should have asked to be able to listen to music during exams so it could further help soothe me. I should have fucking demanded anti-anxiety medication.

I should have taken the propranolol when I first got it, not two years later. Then, maybe I wouldn't have gotten any more C's. Maybe my GPA would have been above a 3.0. Maybe recruiters at the career fair wouldn't hear or see my GPA and immediately lose interest, or tell me "That's kind of low".

I should have left Gannett when that first stupid nurse diagnosed me with anorexia just to get me a DEXA scan. I should have put my foot down and NOT let them do that so it wouldn't end up on my fucking record. If not then, I should have turned around and left when they warned me testing for rheumatoid would be expensive. Maybe then, I wouldn't have a random autoimmune disorder on my record, that they NEVER told me about, NEVER diagnosed me with, NEVER hinted at.

I should have turned around and left when the therapist first called my mother a bitch.

I should have sought treatment somewhere else, gotten the right medication, gotten my brain onto a better track. Then maybe I wouldn't have missed classes due to severe medication side effects. Maybe I wouldn't have spent a semester convincing myself not to die on a nightly basis. Maybe I would have been USEFUL and not have a permanent mark of failure seared into my memory and across paper records, from transcripts to diagnoses.

But no. No, I squandered the opportunities, because I was thrown into a world I didn't understand, with a brain that was morphing in ways I wasn't used to.

And so I failed.

For those who may be concerned: I am okay. Just doing a lot of thinking lately, and this keeps replaying in my mind. It's not really that helpful, and I know it isn't, so hopefully putting it here will get my brain to cut that shit out and think about more constructive things, like which prompts to use for stories.

Tschuess.