The New Year, a new start. It’s a cliché. But I am currently en route to my new home at university, having left my previous flat, so it truly is a new start. I’m really apprehensive, I suppose my experiences have taught me to be careful around new people. Even when at first they seem kind and friendly, they can turn on you at any point. Aware of my cynicism, I think in the past I have overcompensated instead, and thrown myself into investing in new people, only to be betrayed and mistreated further on down the line, and ended up being angry with myself for not anticipating it, or worse still, deliberately ignoring the signs. This is exactly the “victimhood” Eger describes in the exerts I posted in my previous post. I am trying to shed this cynicism, and pessimism, especially this year. But I think it is human nature to recede into yourself, and be hesitant around new people, at least to some extent, when you have been hurt. And I have always seemed to feel the pain of mistreatment from others especially keenly. This sensitivity has always been a negative trait, a poisoned chalice. But I want to see this as something positive. I want to wear my heart on my sleeve with pride. It is an important part of my identity. And whilst it is my weakness, it is also my strength; although I feel the pain more acutely, I am also able to love more deeply, and live compassionately. I have always believed in the importance of kindness. I have been bullied. But I will never, ever, become the bully. The cycle breaks with me.
The cynicism, the anger, the betrayal, the pessimism, that I suffer from, is part of my illness. But I think it has complicated origins. Probably the most significant cause is my experience of school. The bullying, the lack of self esteem, of confidence. My hands are here on the keys, but I can’t form the words. I don’t want to talk about the bullying, not now at least. I know to be truly free you have to confront the demons of your past, so that you can heal. I don’t think I can just yet. But I can talk about other things. The disability that has impeded me my whole life, which has been elusive enough to be invisible for diagnosis, but obvious enough for me to be bullied and ridiculed, at times brutally. The crushing of my dreams. That sounds so pretentious, but I think this is the real cause for how I feel now. The final nail in the coffin of the shit-mix cocktail.
Throughout school, what kept me going, through all of the abuse and self-doubt, was my work. I poured myself into my books- working towards something gave it all greater meaning: one day, I’ll pass my tormentors in the supermarket, and I’ll have moved on to much better things. I was pretty ignored in school, or even ridiculed, by some of my teachers. A couple were supportive, and to them I’ll always be grateful for getting me through. But when I aced my GCSEs, it came as a surprise to pretty much everyone, including me. I’d always thought I was an idiot. I worked so hard simply to distract myself from everything else. But suddenly, teachers, and even management in the school, took real interest in me. They persuaded me to apply for Oxbridge. Academia was all I had. I didn’t really have any friends. And so it became my identity. I applied for Oxbridge. I was ‘the smartest girl in the year’. Mostly, that was a heavy badge to wear- I had the p*ss taken out of me pretty mercilessly, and jealous girls were especially cruel. It sounds so pretentious saying all of this. But it’s true, that’s what I became. Going to Cambridge became my dream. I visited, and it was gorgeous. It was the promise of something better- people I could relate to, who shared an interest with me in the world around me that no one else seemed to. I’m sure now that it was a fantasy; I never would have fitted in. But at the time, it was real. I went to a lecture there, and spoke to the lecturer at the end. I was excited, I was inspired, I was brimming with potential. The lecturer was impressed. My teachers were impressed. I went to the interview, and I could feel the positive reaction from the two academics in my second interview. In the first interview, I was more grilled. And in the entrance exam, my confidence really faltered. But the college I applied to shared my name. Everyone seemed to believe I was perfect for it, even my teacher that studied there. It was meant to be. And I made the fatal mistake; I dared to hope, I dared to believe. I never told anyone else that, I was too ashamed. Even then, at my most confident, I was still afraid to express my belief that someone like me would be allowed in.
Inevitably, I was rejected. I’d got so far. Past the initial application. Past the exams. Past the interview. All the way to the Winter Pool- the college was even ready to offer me a place, if it had been big enough. If, if, if. I was not good enough. And I was crushed. I don’t think I’ve ever recovered, if I’m completely honest. The thought occurred to me this morning, at about 2:36. That rejection shattered the self confidence I had finally managed to build, in those few months. My identity was false. I had built my foundations on academic attainment, and I should have known better- arbitrary measurements like that, from a broken and elitist system, were never the right choice to construct myself upon. But I was heartbroken. I had dared to believe that kids with disabilities, from a state school background, and generally f*cked up by the whole institution, could earn themselves a place. I would be the first in my mum’s line to go to university. And not only that, the best university. Studying there for me was so symbolic, for so many reasons. But eventually, I’d buckled under the pressure, and I just wasn’t quite good enough. Despite all the hard work I’d invested, for years, with no help, and rarely even the support of my teachers. That loss has cost me in all of my academic endeavours ever since- I nearly missed my offers for my other unis, and I’ve never felt confident at university. And never again will I believe in fate. Our lives are determined by luck. If you find something precious, hold onto it, and never, ever let go.
The university application experience had much more far reaching impacts for me though. It revealed to me the inherent unfairness of our education system, but also our society. No matter how hard you try, the system is against you. I am disenchanted, disillusioned. I see the mess of our current political system, the hurt and suffering around the world, the conflict, the greed, the corruption... and I am numb. Sometimes I’m so angry, I want to punch a wall. I ball up my fists and clench my toes and set my jaw, and listen to angry music. Other times I want to curl up in a ball, and cry and cry. And maybe it will all wash over me. But I cannot make change, and I cannot make myself blind either. Instead, I am just a witness. I used to believe that I would go into politics. I’d make a change from the inside. But who am I kidding? They’d never let me in. I care, but I don’t manipulate. I shake and stutter when I’m afraid. I am forgetful. I think I care too much. I would be chewed up and spat out by the political system. I feel directionless. What is the point? I used to find solace in my books; now they are part of my disenchantment. It damaged me in so many ways. But I have to see the positives. Though painful, the awareness of this unfairness means I would be better able to make a change. The disappointment, the hurt, the bitterness- it could all be channeled somehow. And even if not, I coped. I got on with it. I still went to a good uni, despite everything that happened. Hopefully, by the end of it all, I will be employable. I will have potential. I have so many options of what to do with my life in the future. Most importantly though, despite my uni experience thus far not being what I’ve hoped for, it did introduce me to my boyfriend. We are specks of dust caught in a changeable wind, and somehow, we were blown to each other. It will all be worth it for that; we will figure out our future together.
I really am trying to come to terms with all of the shit that weighs me down. I am trying to change my outlook. I have the support and love of some very precious people. I will get better. I don’t want to be a victim anymore. I want to be a survivor. My teenage suffering is behind me, forever.
