humility

Why does time seem to move slower when we anxiously await the future? It's not like the minutes are literally starting to lag, but just the anticipation makes one week feel like an eternity. Sometimes convenient. Most times not.

Case in point:
I'm dying for May 3rd to get here. On that day, the online registration and planning service opens for Waubonsee, and I get to choose my classes for Fall semester. I'm both terrified and excited, mostly the former. I'm still wondering if I'm batshit crazy for going through with this. I dropped out of high school because of my social anxiety. What the hell am I thinking now? That it will be different? Fuck, I hope so. I'm kinda banking on it not being like high school. If it is, well.. At least I'm in counseling this time around. I know if I don't at least try, I'll regret it.

I need to stop treating myself like shit. My counselor told me that I need to stop putting people and ideas on pedestals. At first, it didn't make much sense to me. Now I'm beginning to understand what she meant. In this case, I've put my younger self on one.
All through elementary school, and much of middle school as well, I was regarded as a straight-A student, one of the brightest. I was regularly on honor roll, in spelling bees, and even in a couple mathlete competitions. There was so much pressure to maintain my reputation. That alone was easy enough; I learned quickly and could do something well if I really tried. My home life was the real problem. Domestic violence was and always will be a huge aspect of my life. As much as I wish I could, I can't just forget everything I've seen and heard. I know my parents didn't intend to hurt me, but when it comes to domestic abuse, there's really no way to get around it. I moved back and forth with my mom. Whether we moved in with family, into a domestic abuse shelter, to a new town on our own, or even out of state, we always ended up with my dad again. I recently learned why mom always went back: cocaine addiction. Drugs are always such a strong motivator, sadly. Between all the moving and the mental scars from what I witnessed, at one point I just broke, and my motivation to succeed in school vanished. This is what I've become.
That girl who did so well in school, the girl who aspired to go to some prestigious university and succeed at it, is the girl who now stands before me on a pedestal. I long to be her again, not this failure that I turned out to be. I just want to be myself again..