#nancy wright

Nancy, Madame Carlotta has looked into her crystal ball, and here is your love fortune...

The world was a confusing place before we drew up maps. So, those confusing feelings you're having? Maybe it's time to start exploring.

And I’m sure they’d be thrilled to do it. As long as this isn’t some weird fetish thing. Then you’re creepy.

Age: 24

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She / Her

Neighborhood: Springlake

Occupation: Team Member at Whataburger

Triggers: Addiction, Substance Abuse

BIOGRAPHY

Nancy’s mother always said that she was too much like her father. She would call her impetuous and purposefully contradicting. She’d say that she was just stubborn enough to dig her heels in and act out, but never quite enough to get her life together. Most often, Nancy’s mother favored the comparison between her and a lazy lizard, telling her to stop wasting her time sleeping in the sun – but that one seemed like a fair jab, even Nancy had to agree. Still, each frustrated judgement that spilled from Amy Wright’s mouth was always followed by the cooing sigh and practiced excuse that it was ‘just constructive criticism.’ Whether or not it was meant to actually better her, it still only resulted in Nancy rolling her eyes harder, sneaking out more often, and nabbing more cash from her mom’s purse on the way out the door.

Alternatively, Nancy’s father always said that she was too much like her mother. He’d tell her as much whenever she took on a flippant tone, undercurrents of judgement slipping into the conversation. He’d point out certain expressions that mirrored her mother and rarely let Nancy forget that she had the same upturned nose tendencies that exemplified selfishness. Michael Wright never veiled his observations with secondary meanings or motivations, simply stating what he saw as the truth, which Nancy could never decide if she preferred when compared to her mother’s incessant nagging.

It was funny, though, because she had never been sure of who she was herself. Her parents couldn’t be wrong, not entirely. On some surface level, she was an amalgamation of every bad trait they had passed on, but wasn’t there something more to her; a goal, a drive, a dream that she was meant to reach for? Nancy couldn’t say. She couldn’t decide what she wanted when she was twelve, sixteen, or even nineteen. And now, after twenty-four years of life, saying who she is seems like another distant impossibility. It wasn’t for lack of experience, either, because despite what she liked to dream of as being the ideal life, Nancy had been catapulted into too much, too fast.

In retrospect, most of the details are muddled and skewed by her own personal bias, but if she were asked directly, Nancy would have to say that the turning point of her life happened in high school. The deterioration of her parents’ marriage was simply a peripheral event while she lived out a rebellious streak, New York City acting as an exciting backdrop to teenage shenanigans. Her grades slipped as she entered her sophomore year, staying out too late on weeknights to wind up grounded during weekends. She went to parties with friends, smoked pot for the first time, and spent five minutes thinking that she wanted to be internet famous. Nancy grew louder, rowdier, and even a little angier, but that was natural for adolescence. Even the minor car accident that she endured that winter seemed like a blip in the grand scheme of things. There were no tragic losses, only a few bumps and bruises for her friends while Nancy limped out in mostly one piece. The accident resulted in a break in her leg that required surgery to fix. Post-op brought her weeks of boring bed rest and time off school, but the damning catch of it all? Painkillers. Her leg healed perfectly, but Nancy still complained of an ache or a pinch, just enough for a secondary prescription. And it snowballed from there, initial reliance on painkillers growing into an addiction that even her parents couldn’t ignore. By the time she was eighteen, having just barely made it through graduation, she faced a sudden ultimatum: move out on her own or do something about her addiction. Nancy voluntarily checked herself into the treatment center of her parents’ choosing.

While a person’s twenties were meant to be about self-exploration and collegiate plans, Nancy felt like she was spiralling further out of control. She survived in rehab long enough to get clean and receive what she’d now consider to be helpful therapy. Returning to real life, though, proved to be too big of a hurdle. She found an apartment with her dad’s help and attempted to create a routine for herself, enrolling in a few community college courses and even working sporadically, but it wasn’t enough. As Nancy reconnected with old friends, old habits cropped up, too. She was sober and then she wasn’t. And then she was, but then she wasn’t. Around and around she went, distancing herself from her family as she tried to make it on her own while falling back into the clutches of opioids. Eventually, she graduated from popping pills to heroin, needing a cheaper and quicker fix, but it only last so long before another breaking point was met. Her parents swept in once again and a second attempt at rehab was made.

The results, however, are still up for debate. Upon discharge, Nancy found herself on a much shorter leash, immediately moved into her mother’s penthouse with no room for debate. The last thing she wanted was to spend the rest of her life as her mom’s latest fix-it project, but she put up with it for as long as she could. Weeks stretched into months and as she slowly regained her family’s trust, more normalcy was restored to her life. Unfortunately, though, it didn’t feel the same. Nancy was anxious, even when she went out with friends or spent the weekend with her dad. Nothing in the city felt quite right, leaving her more antsy and hollow than she’d ever felt. Hell-bent on making a drastic change, Nancy jumped at the chance to tag along with a distant friend who had plans to move to Texas. She didn’t waste any time. Packing her bags, she left behind a note for her mom before allowing her father the same (albeit more detailed) courtesy, stopping at his house when she knew he’d be working to drop off her dog and swipe a few valuables. She was on a plane to Austin before sundown. It’s been four months since she made the impulsive decision to leave her friends and family behind, but regret has yet to sink in. With a semi-decent job a place to live, Nancy hopes that it never will, because after all, she’s always loved the sun.

PERSONALITY

( + ) Independent, Gregarious, Imaginative

Nancy Wright Teapot Windchime 

UWin Arts Dean Goes West To UVic @uwindsor @UVic

By Lori Lewis (WINDSOR, ON) –  Faculty of Arts, Humanities and Social Sciences dean Nancy Wright will be leaving the University of Windsor for a new position as Associate Vice-President Academic Planning at the University of Victoria. Dr. Wright is a multi-disciplinary scholar of literature, law, and history, and has held a variety of senior positions at universities in the U.S., Australia and…