|Art is so cool~!!|
Caution: Do not ever cry if you are new on campus. Do not cry if you are in front of a counselor, teacher, or any adult whatsoever who works on a college campus. Do not cry in front of your Mother who will only get more irritated that your anxiety got the best of you and proceed to ridicule you for being scared of being far away from everything you know. Do not cry in an office environment that says everything is confidential or that they have a sign that says “we’re here for you” or “because we care.” Don’t ever cry again.
That’s what school taught me. That’s what my parents taught me. That’s what my therapist taught me. That’s what everyone who claims to be a professional ever taught me. Because once you do- you are a threat.
That’s what they consider emotional people these days- threats. If you show that you are not perfectly emotionally sound in an obviously stressful environment, they will consider you a threat to yourself and others immediately. If you show the slightest bit of anxiety in front of someone in an office, they will say “excuse me” and walk out to report you to a counselor who will proceed to want to call the police and take you away because you are only possibly- a threat.
Nobody is ever safe in this world. Black people are shot on the streets from the police. LGBT youth is put under so much prejudice, being abandoned by their parents and being persecuted daily. This goes for people with anxiety and depression as well, for is you show even the slightest bit of instability, they will immediately deem you insane.
Take it from me. Just this morning, I had my very first meeting with my college counselor. I was excited to change my schedule since I was accepted into Theatre BA as a major. It was going well. Until she asked me if I wanted 12 credit hours or 15 hours for my first semester. My sisters did 15, so maybe I should too. However, looking at the intense courses I will be taking, all of the thoughts suddenly came swarming into me- “You might fail. If you have lower thatn 3.0 GPA, they will kick you out of your major. You got straight A’s all your life, what if you get a C on your first test.” I began to tear up.
The lady noticed a bit late that I was tearing up fromt these horrible thoughts filling my head and she got up immediately, my tears flowed more because I knew she was rushing to the tissue box. She brought it over and asked me what was wrong and I told her everything. When we were done, she left again, and then when she came back, she said “I am not comfortable with you leaving the office like this- you are either coming with me right now this very second to a counselor or I will call the police on you.”
I was horrified. I have been “arrested” before for the same reason under the Florida Baker Act (in which if you send out a text or someone reports you as being not mentally sound, they take you to a hospital and hold you there against your will.) That experience traumatized me. Sure it was for only two nights and three days, but I was in a cold hospital with no jackets allowed because they had strings, no shoes allowed since we might hit each other, downgrading employees who treated you like an animal, and random shots in the arm to test your blood even when you are asleep in your room at 3 AM.
I didn’t want that again- I hadn’t even begun classes yet.
So I told her that I wanted to go see the counselor. She forced me to come even though I told her I had to take my mother to the airport since she was flying back to Miami from Tallahassee. She didn’t care- I was apparently a threat just because I was crying in a scenario she deemed not stressful. We went there and I met the counselor. I thoguht everything was going to be okay.
He immediately began swarming me with questions about if I wanted to hurt others or myself or run away or overdose on drugs. He didn’t ask me why I was sad, he just wanted to make sure I don’t hurt anybody.
“It would look bad for this school if we had people hurting themselves before school even started.”
I felt even worse than before. But I managed to get out and drive my mother to the airport. Oh, what a way to come back from all of this stress. I expected my mother to understand.
Wait, no I didn’t.
She was mad at me for being tired after all of that and whined about how “you get tired too easilly, I’d hate to see you when the real stress starts.”
I felt so exhausted, but I had to drive her to the airport, She then proceeded to fight with me about how I am too sensitive for “stupid things” and how I need to just stop it. I then asked her:
“So, I can never cry again in front of a professional?”
“No, they will take you away.”