The Death of a Scholar

It's been awhile.  College is harder than I anticipated. Last year, after my last entry, I started classes at a nearby university with my best friend.  It went downhill really fast.
I really shouldn't have started a new job at the same time I started a new chapter of my life, but I did.  It just added a lot to the stress of going to college for the first time.
I was anxious about losing friends I had grown close to in high school and about the looming deadline of choosing a career.  I still haven't decided on what I want to do with myself.  Being a very type-A person, its really really difficult for me to not know what to do next.
My friend didn't have a very good time her first semester, either.  She was sexually assaulted after a month, by some new "friends" she had made on campus.  I didn't know how to help her.  She blamed herself for not saying "no" more sternly and that killed me inside.  For any of my readers beginning college soon, my friend's experience was in the minority.  But take heed, and take care of yourself.  Whatever happens, no means no. Silence means no.  Maybe means no.  Anything other than a clear and enthusiastic yes, means no. and sexual assault is NEVER the victims fault. No matter what.
If someone you know goes through an attack, there are resources on campus for them.  Counseling centers and campus security to name a couple.
Even though I tried to help my friend by telling her these things, supporting her, and reassuring her, it came down to what she was willing to do.  It took a long time for her to forgive herself, even though there was nothing to forgive.  Still, she has bounced back tremendously and is now in a loving relationship with someone who respects her boundaries.
As for me... well, I'm lucky to be alive.
I had around 2 mental breakdowns and a number of panic attacks throughout the first half of the semester.  That is about the span of 2 months.  Needless to say, I was exhausted all the time.  I took on far too much at once and that, combined with taking care of my best friend through her difficulty, took a serious toll.
When you get to the point where it feels like you are always knee deep in water, it can be frustrating.  Even completing the most simple tasks by normal standards was a monumental achievement and they often left me drained.  I was never really happy, but I had never experienced misery, either.  Until fall of 2015.
Every day I would feel nothing but fatigue and every night it was as if all my repressed emotions tore through me and I would sob.  The mood swings gave me whiplash.
It quickly became too cold to take nightly walks, so the only thing that would calm me down was to light a candle in my dark bedroom and engross myself in the flame. It was hypnotic and gave me relief from all the problems that seemed so big.
Still, I planned to kill myself on October 18, 2015.
In the days before, I was almost giddy, knowing that I wouldn't have to suffer anything anymore.  Nothing could phase me. I was unstoppable.  However, on the 17th, around 24 hours before my self imposed death sentence, I had my second mental breakdown.  The first one happened while I was out walking one night, during the summer. I started off furious at everything, then I sort of blacked out and I don't really remember much of that walk.  This one, however, was different.  My emotions took over with no warning or provocation.  Unfortunately my mother and sister were home with me. Though I tried to get out of the house without them noticing, my older sister saw me crying.
Now, my sister is emotionally retarded (not trying to use the term as a bash on those with special needs.) So she made the whole situation worse by asking me why I was crying and, when I couldn't answer, told me that it was stupid of me to be crying.  By then I had started hyperventilating and my mom joined us in the kitchen.  I can't remember what happened between then and my mother and I ending up on the porch but I do know there was a lot of yelling, based on how raw my throat was.
When my mom got me alone on the front porch, she asked me why I was so upset.  I replied that I couldn't tell her.
About an hour out there, just talking, I trusted my mom more than my judgement, and I told her how and when I was going to kill myself.  My mom isn't very good at the whole empathy thing so she didn't help much.  But just telling someone lifted a weight off my shoulders that I didn't know I was carrying.  I saved my own life by speaking up.  No one said anything that could have changed my mind except me.
Since then, I took a semester off college, started a less stressful job, and took care of myself.  I'm in college again now, away from the campus that holds painful memories for me, and I'm loving it.  I started part time at the community college and  now I am working back up to full time study.
I love to learn.  I always have.  But I forgot for a while and I lost sight of myself.  The scholar in me died and I almost followed, but I am glad to be here and I am glad to revive my passion for education.

Apologies

Apologies have always been really difficult for me to say or even write.  For a long time I didn’t know why I felt so anxious and scared when I even thought about having to apologize. For everyone else, apologies meant a chance to start anew and cleanse mistakes. I don’t feel that way.  When I apologize it causes me a lot of stress so I avoid apologies as often as I can.  Similarly, I avoid situations where I might make a mistake that needs an apology. I am what is called a non-apologist, though it’s more commonly known as being stuck up. It really sucks because I feel just as much remorse for a mistake as anyone else.  I honestly don’t mean to withhold apologies, they are just so scary to me and they cause me a lot of distress.  Even after I give an apology I have to focus on calming myself down so no one notices how uncomfortable I am.

I usually spend most of my energy wondering whether or not the recipient actually accepted my apology or just said they did because that is what we have been told to say.  Like when someone asks “how are you?” and you respond with “good” or “fine” because saying that you aren’t okay isn’t widely acceptable.

Sometimes I feel bad for things that I didn’t choose, like my sexuality and my childhood.  When I talk to some of my friends who are everything but straight I feel the urge to apologize for my own heterosexuality and the things that other straight people have done to them.  When people confide in me (which happens a lot, strangely) I feel like I have to apologize because I didn’t have as hard of a life as they did growing up and I’m not sure how to help them.  In fact, my life was pretty great considering what ghosts most people are walking around with. A lot of times I have to stop myself from feeling that way and remind myself that those things are out of my control. 

About Erethess

I created this blog for my creative writing class. Our teacher asked the whole class to make a blog where we would post our work to be graded, but I also made the blog so I could continue using it after I graduated high school. So I call my blog "Goddess: Error" and went by my alias, Erethess, which I use to hide my personal writing from my family and friends. Here is a little about me:

I may divulge my real first name one day, if I can keep up with this. (I’m not very good at commitment.)  For now, I am Erethess. I graduated from high school last June and I will be attending my first day of college a month from today. I like to draw, write, sing, and spend time outside with my friends.  I also play the ocarina and I practice karate.  My favorite creature is a dragon but if I had to only choose things that exist, I couldn’t.  Maybe my favorite would be a fox or a crow but I like everything else, too. My favorite food is Phở but I like food in general.  I also love anime and live action role playing (neither of which is dirty! Get your mind out of the gutter. Gosh.) I am 18, making a lot of big decisions that will affect the rest of my life- the pressure is on. Especially since I have no clue what is going on most of the time.

I was raised as a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (aka “LDS”/“Mormon”) but right now, my religious views are difficult to pinpoint.  I identify as an agnostic theist. I’ll say it out loud. I don’t know if God exists. I can’t prove it to even myself whether or not there is a god, therefore I am agnostic.  But I do believe there is something larger than ourselves in this life and that, to me, is powerful and magnificent enough to be considered Divine. There is something out there. Theism. It might even be more than one thing, but I think the existence of any of this is inherently unknowable. We can’t prove there is a Divine entity in our lives nor can we prove there is not. Agnostic theism.

God or no God, I like to put myself to the test so I plan on serving an LDS mission after I get my Associate degree in Arts. Growing up in the LDS church, I didn’t get to see much what other religions believed.  Frankly, I didn’t care; but now that I’m in a good spot to try new things, I have been attending other churches and exploring other religions. My hope is to eventually study Buddhism, which is very different from the religion I was raised in. I think Buddhists have life figured out in a very different way Christians do. I find religion to be a very fascinating way of making sense of a person’s surroundings and I think all religions (or lack thereof) have somehow captured the beauty of personal fulfillment. I admire people who have their faith figured out. They are great and their religion is beautiful. I don’t even care what it is because every religion is beautiful.

I chose Goddess: Error as the name of my blog but I couldn’t use the colon so I had to do without it.  If I had my way, it would look like this at the top of the page.
Goddess: ERROR

But it can’t and it doesn’t, so I have to deal with the mediocrity that is plain, old “Goddess Error”. The reason I chose this name is because I am, technically, LDS.  Why does that matter? Well, it’s a basic teaching within Mormonism to know that there is a Heavenly Father and a Heavenly Mother and every human past, present, and future, is a spirit child of God. (“God” is usually referring to the Father, as the Mother is often never talked about out of respect. Not really my idea of respectful but whatever.) As a child of the Divine every single person has the potential to become as holy and powerful as God.  Basically- people on Earth are like Gods and Goddesses in training.  Wow, that sounds really strange when I write it down but I’m also not the best at explaining things so please take my word for it when I say Mormons are not any crazier than the rest of the world.  They are just more Republican…do with that what you will. ANYWAY! I am a child of God, therefore, I can be as divine as God, making me a potential goddess. Only, I’m a very confused young adult and I doubt my abilities to reach my full potential, therefore I am an error in whatever system is in place to help me succeed. Boom, Goddess: Error.

Religion aside, this blog will hopefully become like a second journal to me where readers can look into my life. I’m starting college with no idea what I want to do (or even what I would be moderately okay with doing for the rest of my life). I’m also working through a major faith crisis pretty much all the time. Like I said before, if I can keep up with this; this should get interesting.

Invictus by William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

I am the captain of my soul.



This is my favorite poem because it caught me off guard.  In the beginning, everything seems so hopeless.  By the end of the poem, I feel like I can conquer the world on the back of a giant Alaskan Malamute.  Its just great.

Conscience

I am simmering rage which dwells in a man’s heart
the one that steals their souls for my own.
I am the sinking grief that must be a big part
of what you feel for me to take hold.
I am the hatred that is foul acts start
and no one dear do I know.

I am fear that must be so strong
for a person to do my will.
I am the whispers that you have heard all along
ones that mighty men shy away from.
I am the thing that you will become before long
for I am the need for revenge.

4-9-15 Update

Over the last month or so I've been working on a collection of work in Creative Writing class.  Most of it was poetry, there were two short stories, and I'm pretty proud of a couple of them.  My favorite is a piece called "Conscience" based off of The Count of Mote Cristo but it can stand alone, too.  Id like to share it soon.  I would also like to share my favorite poem, Invictus by William Ernest Henley For now, I'm just going to bask in the fact that I created a collection in high school.  Oh, writing that feels so good.

Wine Tasting

     I swirled the ruby red poison in my glass. I don't know why this man was trying to kill me but I've spiked enough women's drinks over the years to know what that look in his eye entails; though, usually I'm the one handing the drugged drinks off. I've never been on the receiving end before. For some reason, I thought I would be more scared but it’s exhilarating, staring death in the face. I want to do it more often, too bad these encounters usually end in death being victorious. So I sit and swirl, knowing this wine tasting will be my last.