*Boom*

So. I made a post about making some new rules and moving my life along.

Then everything exploded.

On February 27th, I found out that a dear friend, one I’ve known online for almost ten years, committed suicide in August. Three weeks later, I am still being hit with waves of grief, regret, sorrow, and shock. The fact that I found out almost exactly a year after my first big loss in Uncle Bill, the day before his memorial, just adds to the weight of it on my heart. She was a gorgeous soul, and I currently can’t talk about her too much without getting upset, so, as I’m at work, this will be all on that subject for the time being.

On March 2nd, I decided to withdraw from my classes and basically leave school for the foreseeable future.

A period of depression and anxiety that swept through in February, classes that were a combination of unchallenging and needlessly complicated, and the news about my friend all took a toll on my attendance and willingness to just plow through. A meeting with an Eastern advisor that did not go exactly as planned was the nail in the coffin for this semester, and school in general.

I started at Manchester Community in the fall semester of 2004. I’ve gone through four majors, five and a half years, eight semesters, almost 30 classes, and 84 credits.

Subjects that first gave me a thrill—new! exciting! creative! fun! challenging!—somehow became just another set of classes to slog through to get the biscuit at the end. The question is—was it the subjects, the classes, the teachers, or me?

If I went class by class, I could answer that question, but I’m more interested in the overall arc of my trip through secondary education. I keep skipping about from one interest to another. Graphic design…art…web design…writing…editing…marketing…hell, even accounting still holds some appeal, if only I could get my head around numbers (As Ryan pointed out, with my math skills, I’d make me accounting clients very happy…until we all got arrested). Whenever I think I’ve settled down on something, I get distracted by something else. This could possibly be worked around, but not without some finesse and planning.

When I met with the transfer advisor at ECSU, I told her about all my interests, and my curiosity with the individualized major. She took what I told her and outlined a possible plan—a major in Digital Art & Design, with minors in English and Business. This path would take three and a half years—one semester would be comprised solely of General Education Requirements.

All through MCC, I was led to believe that getting an Associates would automatically check off the general stuff, and all but guarantee that I would enter any four-year college as a junior, only needing to take classes in my major.

Now, maybe I misunderstood what I was told; I am willing to admit that. What I took away from that meeting was not that someone on one side or the other had made a mistake; it was that I was being thrown a much different clump of information than I was expecting. After years of getting through for the sake of getting through, a month of barely having the energy for uninspiring classes, and only two days after receiving a horrible bombshell on the anniversary of the biggest loss I’d yet suffered, it was just too much. Something had to give, and the choice came down to school or my sanity.

I promise, if this sounds melodramatic, that I am not exaggerating the stress and sense of calamity that I have been living through for the past three weeks. If anything, I am downplaying it. The first week of March, for the only time in my life, I was stressed to the point of nausea, spending more time ready to throw up than anything else. My sleep has suffered, and all the areas of my body that usually respond to stress—my skin, my feet, my shoulders—have all been miserable.

To say that this was an easy decision would be a complete lie. The fact is, however, that it was not one that took a long time to make. I won’t say that it was hastily made, but I won’t say that it was drawn out, either. Honestly, I spent more time worrying about my parents’ reactions than I did about wether or not it was a good idea.

While this complicates things, drastically changes plans, and otherwise throws a giant wrench in the machine of my life…this feels right.

What it comes down to is this: As it is, I have spent enough time and money on college, pursuing different paths. I won’t call it a waste, as I have learned a great deal, and I even got an Associates out of it—in a subject I enjoy, and may even end up pursuing! However, after so many years and so much shit, it feels like going any further, with my mind the way it is, would be a waste. Of money, of time, of energy…of everything.

I don’t know what I want, and it just doesn’t feel right to marry one subject when I can’t commit fully, or to even just “love the one I’m with,” going for a business degree that might only be two years just to get a diploma in something. It feels, in fact, completely wrong.

There is more, much more, but I have once again let a post run quite long, and I've been hacking away at this one for the better part of two hours. Apologies if this is ending on an abrupt note, but it's either that or let it keep rambling forever. I promise, more is to come, and soon.