The Scamp at 300

Congratulations! You are reading my 300th post. I think that it is very fitting that number 300 comes on my last night as a resident of the United States. This is the day I thought would never come. This is the day I have been trying to get to for two long years. This is the day that makes the emotionally abusive relationship worth it, the bullying, abuse, and eventual expulsion form CSUF worth it, and all of the therapy very very worth it. In the year and some change that it took me to get from 200 to 300, I learned so much about not only myself, but the world around me.

I learned that I no longer fit in in California. That was a hard lesson for me to learn. I spent almost a year trying really really hard to like it here and be happy, when it just isn’t who I am anymore. I have had some times here, and will carry some great memories with me, but this is no longer home. It took me almost another year to come to terms with it, and realize that it is okay that I no longer fit here. I always say that I am a Flamingo in a flock of pigeons. I use to say it to make people laugh, but I always saw it as a bad thing. I thought I should want to be a pigeon. I should want to be just like everyone else.

That is the dumbest thing I have ever admitted to the public (there have been a lot of things I have done, said, or thought that are really dumb, but a girl has to have some secrets). It has taken me a long time, but I am learning to embrace my inner flamingo. When I am in Scotland I can be a flamingo, and since I don’t know of another bird that can do yoga, I am going to rock the shit out of being a flamingo. That includes wearing colorful yoga pants, finishing my sleeve of colorful tattoos, and rocking flowers in my hair.

I learned that sometimes life sucks. I know that I will never see justice for what happened to me at CSUF, but that is how the real world works. Sometimes bad things happen to (mostly) good people. I will have to pay back the $30,000 in loans, and I will have nothing to show for it. My mom told me that everyone has bought a lemon, or invested in something that has failed, and that CSUF is my lemon. Pretty much everyone knows what happened to me now, and it still makes me mad, but I have to trust that there is a lesson in that experience that I will be able to use one day. I’m not 100% certain what that lesson is yet, but I have faith that it will become clear someday. I learned a lot about how to play the political game, how to stand up for myself and what I believe in, and that if you do not stick to your values then they are just hobbies.

I learned the power of therapy. I’m pretty sure therapy saved my life. Had I not had that available to me for the last year, I do not know if I would have survived the CSUF experience. Thursday mornings were my coping. I spent a lot of time trying to work through what was happening to me, and work out ways to cope with how I was feeling. My depression would have gotten a lot worse, had I not made the decision to get some real help. That program broke me. I spent much of this last year crying and hiding under my covers hoping that the storm would crash. My therapist helped me get out of bed, helped me not become an actual racist, and helped me realize that there was absolutely nothing wrong with my character. I used to think that therapy was something that I needed to hide, like it was a dirty little secret, but I have to say, I feel like a much stronger person than I was two years ago, and I think a part of that is because therapy kept me out of the dark and twisty.

I learned that I am willing to fight for the friendships and connections that matter. I’ve kept in touch with most of the people I was in Scotland with, and I am now seeing the long list of people here that are worth the effort to keep in contact with. I also feel like I am about to meet a whole bunch of new people, and those are the people that I will keep around for a long long time. I’m always worried about making friends because I am not really good at being social, but I am no longer worried about that. I know that I will become that obnoxious person who introduces myself to people, and before I know it, I will have sweet-talked my way into a lord’s heart and will get the castle wedding and the title that everyone here wants me to have (ok, I will get a puppy, talk to him, and pretend that is being social).

Most importantly, I learned that sometimes you need a fresh start to really become who you are supposed to be. Scotland is my fresh start. I never would have made it there if I had not gone through all the shit of the last two years. Scotland is my chance to really grow and become the person that I want to be (and the scenery, history, and people don’t hurt either). In three short years I will be Dr. Scamp, and in five short years I will be a permanent resident of the UK.

Most people say that it is bad luck to say “goodbye”, and that you should say “see you later.” They say that “goodbye” is permanent. Well, today, I would like to say goodbye to my life here, and to the person that I was. Tomorrow I start fresh being the badass flamingo that I am.

“I was trying to feel some kind of good-bye. I mean I’ve left schools and places I didn’t even know I was leaving them. I hate that. I don’t care if it’s a sad good-bye or a bad good-bye, but when I leave a place I like to know I’m leaving it. If you don’t you feel even worse.”
J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

Adventure here I come.

The Scamp Battles the Bitchy Biddy Brigade

 

I’m still at war. It has been raging for more than three months now. For those who do not know of my battle, you can find it here: https://ascampabroad.wordpress.com/2014/06/02/the-scamp-prepares-for-battle/

Things just keep getting better. I made my move and talked to the dean, and at her request, did the part of the inventory that was assigned to me. Faculty evaluations have come and gone, and since I try and keep my nose out of the gossip, I have no idea how the B cubed took the news that I was not their personal punching bag.

No one has come sniffing around my desk, or magically appearing in the stacks while I work, and the boss hasn’t forwarded any more emails of my perceived shortcomings, so I claimed a small (albeit important) victory.

Yesterday they retaliated. I have a post-it marking where I left off in my work everyday, and it is just about the finish line (suck on that old women). Since the boss monitors the progress of the project, it was brought to the attention of the group that I was just about done with my section…..so they tripled my workload. Apparently I was too efficient, which is a big no-no at this library, and because of that, I get to do their project.

It was a valiant effort,  but, really? You think that ordering me to do more work than the boss assigned me is really going to work?

Please.

I’ve got plenty of my own work to get back to, and although I had the help of a really awesome student worker, I still have a lot of books coming in and shelf cleaning to do.

and by Friday, I will be back at it. I did what was asked of me, and now I will go on back to my work. The next 68 days, 11 hours and 12 minutes will be spent doing my job to the best of my ability and then proudly march into the bosses office and quit. I’ve already decided on the cards I am going to give the Bitchy Biddy Brigade when I leave.

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I am greatly looking forward to that day.

Next week all of us lowly classified staff have a meeting with the boss. I have decided that will be the stage for my next battle. A little public shaming to make my work days more fun.

Summer school still sucks, studying for the qualifying exam is making me crazy, and I am behind on my research.

In 50 days all of that will be over, and life just might settle down.

Probably not.

A Scamp and the Springtime

Today marks the first day of Spring (well, not really in California since it has basically been like summer since last summer). Spring is a time of rebirth, a time to clean out the old and make room for the new.

It is a time for change.

But who gets to determine where the old ends and the new begins? Is it a day on the calendar? A birthday? A new year? Is it an event?

That change, ideally, should be something that gives us hope. It gives a new way to view the world, a new way to view our world. It is about letting go of old habits, bad memories. It becomes vital that we never stop believing that we can start over, that we can create a new beginning. It’s important to remember though that sometimes, amongst all the shit, bad habits, and bad memories are a few things worth holding on to.

I have been saying for the better part of a year that it is time for a change. I’ve been saying it, but the change I am seeking has yet to really happen. I’ve been trying different things, figuring out what works and what doesn’t. I am now one year removed from heartstompapolooza, but I am not quite sure I have changed and matured enough. At times, for every one step forward, I took three steps back. For every little mountain I climbed, I tripped and rolled off a cliff. I’ve been lucky enough to have a good support system to help me through the backsliding, but it leaves me to wonder: why is permanent change so scary?

I was recently asked why I constantly say I am going to change some of the more negative aspects of my personality. but then fail to really do so. That made me think of a quote from one of the Grey’s Anatomy episodes I continually binge on:

 Change… We don’t like it, we fear it. But we can’t stop it from coming. We either adapt to change, or we get left behind. It hurts to grow. Anybody who tells you it doesn’t, is lying. 

Anyone who really knows me knows that I hate hurting. I take a lot of medication to keep myself from hurting. I avoid emotions and keep myself closed up to keep from hurting. I stubbornly refuse to change aspects of my personality because I do not want to go through the pain that comes with breaking down old habits, and trying to build new ones (for me, that usually involves a lot of tears, and let’s face it, I am a messy crier).

A year ago, I weathered the pain to make some very necessary changes. I spent the last few months in Scotland happier than I had been in years. I had the help of a professional, but I was finally (and somewhat painfully) learning how to break old habits and change my way of thinking.

Spring means the fast approaching deadline to sign up for insurance.  Even though I am less than thrilled about my options on that front, I am looking forward to having the option to see a professional for more than the four sessions the school gives me to put me back on the track I was on in Scotland.

Because in the end

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