The more things change, the more they stay the same...
I felt physically beautiful today, mentally a piece of fragile melting ice.
I am enjoying long hair and summer dresses and elastic waist belts.
A large part of me wants to date. The rest isn't interested in the vulnerability and doesn't think I'll find the right girls anyway. I like Women, usually the ones who won't like me until I'm done with university. Travesty.
More dramz every which way. I'm not really involved, only my panic from time to time.
I got a 66 on my Jubilee Report. I should be happy. That's a solid 2-1, four points from a First.
Tomorrow I have to work on the red kite report. When I'm done with that I've pretty much finished all my coursework and it's on to revision.
But right in this moment, calm.
I was trying to fall asleep and it wasn't working. I was feeling sad and couldn't pinpoint it. Wondered briefly it was the new moon (I always feel a bit more down when there's no moonlight outside) or exam stress (there will always be some of that, when I think about it I feel like I'm dying).
Then the slightly detached thought crawled across my mind of 'huh, tomorrow's the first day back at the Aggie, wonder what Cavcreature would think if anyone mentioned I had a panic attack.' Have got a few Aggie people who read my livejournal, which even mentioned that I hadn't really had one like that since I used to have the occasional one with her. But it was more of a disconnected amused thought than anything else.
Then it struck me again, oh, tomorrow's the first day back to school from April vacation.
Which reminded me that it was the anniversary of hell week. When I was 14 I fractured my hip the first day of April vacation and spent the time recovering. When I was 15 I went for my fibula graft surgery which was a terrible one with a long and annoying recovery, my worst operation yet. When I was 16 I got the news that the surgery hadn't worked and I had a dead hip, was years of pain or hip fusion or hip replacement. When I was 17 I was in a lot of pain and had finally decided to get the hip replacement at the end of my junior year. I spent the vacation in England looking at universities--very pleasant, but spent in a wheelchair/with cane/in pain. April vacation when I was 18 was probably the only normal one I had, and it certainly held what I would become: loads of the entries are about the paper I wrote the night before and the day it was due for Organismal Bio and then an entry about hating the job at Lisa's and fearing what working in the Adult World would feel like (however, the entries were hilarious).
All my panic starts around the 16 vacation. Crying and panicking in classes, being sent to guidance and therapy. Test anxiety and life anxiety and fear about future life with hips. Remembering that made me sad. I wish it could have gone away in earnest. It has not. If anything, it has grown worse through the years--school-wise, really. Couldn't control anything else in my life so I super-controlled my grades. That can't be done now. University is a scary place. Regardless, I have the energy to send hugs and comfort back to 16-year-old frightened Kiwi, who needs the love and support from me. Hopefully Future Kiwi is sending me love and support as well, given how much I need it in these frightening times of first year university and drowning in exam anxiety.
Then I realised that with it being Sunday night/Monday morning English time, it was also the anniversary of the day I emailed Mrs. Cavanagh for the first time. I believe it was actually the 23rd but I go less by date and more by day--it was the last day of April vacation, and so is today for the Aggie. So to me that's the anniversary.
3 years. Smiles. Pretty impressive. We're not emailing now, of course, but it's nice to remember. I was so frightened to send that first email to a teacher despite that she had offered it first (she no longer remembers that, sad sigh). Would she judge my grammar? The way I wrote? Would I seem silly? But I finally got up the guts to hit the send button. So tomorrow (well, really today English time), marks the day I got my first two responses.
So glad to hear from you. I've been waiting all week.
Last night I was doing last minute Physics prep so I
didn't check school email. I'm going to email you from
home. (You are not "getting me in trouble" or anything
near it.) I had a busy week with doctors and donations.
I'll tell you about it tonight.
Thus started an adventure. Smiles. The saving grace of my next two April vacations.
I love you, Mrs. Cavanagh. Hope you're still doing well with the feet and the knees and the head and all the body parts in-between. Seems April is never our best month for medical things. Hope you had a wonderful vacation with warm sun porch reading, stretched out on the futon and able to drift off to sleep when you wanted, the way you love doing. Hope you got to work with beads and crafts and were surrounded with love. You are a beautiful work in progress. We are beautiful works in progress. We are Carole King tapestries or Peter, Paul and Mary gardens growing. Better each year, even if physically we can't be. Goodness knows it's hard enough for us to say and hear: we're beautiful. I love you, Mrs. Cavanagh, I remember you with smiles and a brilliantly beating heart. I send warm hugs and a song.
I think I may be able to sleep now. Picturing sleeping with little sophomore Kiwi, willing to hear her whispers of a medical week through obnoxious coldsores she's willing to giggle about. Quite a sense of humour on her. Smiles.