Would I Do It Differently?

Monday mornings are always chalk full of crap for me. Whether its good crap or bad crap is the question. Well this Monday, I set out for yet another meeting with Dean Vanek-- the lady who holds my fate at Saint Mary's College in the palm of her hand. It was the practical equivalent to a death march of my own personal trail of tears. Yet, it was deja vu, which was the most disappointing aspect of all. I text messaged my friend beforehand that I was going to see her. No response, then it dawned on me, I did this to myself now I have to suffer the consequences myself.

I sat in the meeting. I sat and stared and tried extremely hard to hold back the tears. That didn't work. The water works commenced. So with tears and all, I sat there and let this woman condemn me and my academic record. I kept thinking to myself, in hushed thoughts, "It's not fair." The longer I sat there, the more apparent and loud those thoughts came until, finally, I exploded. I could no longer handle the look of disgust I was receiving from the dean. The meeting was cut short (maybe the dean had a date?) and I was excused to go home and wait until early January for final word as to where I would be next semester: at Saint Mary's with all my friends, or somewhere else.

I took a trip to the mall for no reason other than to Christmas shop. The mall is a horrible place to go when you're feeling that low because you'll indubitably see someone. After seeing dried tear streaks down my face, they'd start asking questions. I hate questions. However, its also a great place to go and hide from reality through the therapeutic process that is shopping. Over the next week with the talk of Christmas, and New Years and my birthday, I was able to allow this academic indecency to escape my mind. However, the time came. I had done all I could do up til now, grade appeals included. But now was the time to write my final appeal letter to the dean before the academic standards committee met to discuss my case for the umpteenth time.

So I groveled and begged. Sent in my letter. And waited. It came time to go on tour and my mind was elsewhere for the most part. Yet the last night, it returned to this. The others were sad to go but happy to get back to school. But me, I dreaded returning home to the letter I knew was waiting for me on my desk top. I refused to read the letter. But I knew what it said. I could no longer attend Saint Mary's College.

Did I allow myself to cry? Not right away. For the most part, I was able to hold in the amount of anguish and rage I felt. My family, of course, made it worse. But none compared to my grandfather. The man who was once proud of me, who used to brag about me to his co-workers and fellow deacons at the church now look at me with disgust. If there was anything that could break me, that was definitely it. I tried to transfer to Holy Cross College next door, that was a lost cause. Due to outstanding balances, I couldn't get my transcript from Saint Mary's. I was between a rock and a hard place. I had been dismissed from Saint Mary's and I couldn't go anywhere else. So I find myself stuck at home taking an entire semester off.

What would you do if life as you know it was ripped from your very eyes? The water works at this point were unbearable. And then spending my days at home with nothing to do? That was my ground level of hell. You know what you do when you're stuck with nothing to do? You think. So that's what I did. I thought about everything I did from my freshman year to now. I had a tough freshman year and I've been digging myself out of that hole I got myself in since then. Well I've hit a rock in digging myself out. My friend keeps telling me that it's just a bump in the road. That it will all work out in the end. As much as I would love to believe that. I'm not feeling too optimistic these days. If I'm not getting fussed at, I'm crying.

I envy the person that can party every night, study everything once, and ace every exam. Or how about that person who can shut themselves away from the world and focus on school? Both seems like a great predicament for me. It's a harsh realization that I am not super woman. I'm nothing but a little black girl from South Bend. My dreams of have basically diminished one by one. I may as well kiss medical school goodbye. If this isn't rock bottom, I'm not sure what is. The saddest part of all? If I could do it all again, I'm not sure I'd do it differently.