Four Years

So, I know it’s been a while since I’ve done a true blog-type post, but as today is the last day of classes of my undergraduate degree, I thought it seemed like a good idea.

To be honest, when all of this started, I was, quite honestly, not entirely certain I would be healthy enough to finish. A combination of illness and allergies and uncertainty left me fairly certain that I might have had cancer, and I was in a mindset of “If this is the last few years of my life, how do I want to spend it?”

It might seem odd to anyone who doesn’t know me that well that my first thought would be to leave everything behind and run to another city, away from friends and family, but I couldn’t stand the idea of having the people I love watch me slowly deteriorate. Plus, I have always had a certain curiosity and love of learning, and school seemed the best option. 

True, these were likely not the best reasons to start University, but they were the ones I had, and, as I got worse and worse over the course of my first year, seemed to be rather valid at the time. I had also done my best to reconcile with my father, as I disliked the idea of leaving things where they were (although we’re no longer on speaking terms at this point). It was a strange time, as I seemed to be constantly pushing people away even while I tried to hang on to those I cared about, and my treatment of my friends was not always the best in those first two years. 

Despite my self-destructing, I did make some friends. Many more than I expected to, honestly, and for the past four years we’ve become closer and closer. These friendships have been surprising, at times, and full of adventure, and for them alone I’m happy I came to this particular school at this particular time. 

So, many appointments, a biopsy and a food journal later, I finally found myself healthy again, even if no longer to enjoy a large range of previously loved foods. A small price to pay, I think, to no longer be ill almost constantly. It took me quite some time to get beyond my fatalistic mindset, however, and it’s only this past year or so that I finally feel like myself again. 

Honestly, as much as I’ve hated the politics and the condescension occasionally received here (not to mention the constant pressure to feel guilt over things not my doing), I have learned a lot. Most importantly, I feel my writing has improved a bit. Writing essays does force you to actually stick to some sort of deadline, and I’ve mastered the art of writing almost 4000 words in a single day (which is not too shabby!). More importantly, I got to be involved in We Eat Films, which has led me back to the creative writing I loved before everything went to hell. 

So, was the ridiculous amount of debt and four years worth it? I think so. I like where I am in my life right now, and I love the people I’ve met through this school. Plus, I’ve found myself again inspired to write, which is something I truly needed. There are a lot of things I dislike about Western and the current way the University is run, but overall it’s been a pretty great four years.

Today is my last day of class of my University career. At the end of the month I’ll be done completely. I’m excited, but also nervous for the next adventure. 

Feel free to ask any questions.