Today was Therapy Thursday, and one of the many things that came up during our discussion was the idea of my going back to college.
It’s an idea that appeals to me because I am an academic genius who sails through ninety percent of courses without even slowing down while getting an A in the process and who has his own original, unique, and well thought out opinions on most subjects and it strikes me that at college at least, those things are kind of valuable.
In fact, I am pretty sure it’s the sort of thing they are specifically looking for.
Patient readers know that, historically, I have had a hard time remembering that academic success is worth something because it’s always come so easy to me.
From my first day of school, where I showed up already reading at a Grade 4 level and knowing how to count and do simple addition and subtraction, and from there on to my very last day at VFS, I have found education to be extremely easy.
And I always knew that, in theory, that made me somebody special who had gifts that other people would sacrifice organs to get, but it never felt that way to me.
As patient readers also know, in my little life, mostly it just led to my being super bored most of the time. Schoolwork would take me maybe ten minutes to finish and then I would be stuck sitting there while the rest of the class struggled for another half hour.
And to be honest, nobody gave two fresh shits about my genius. Fellow students hated me for it and the teachers resented me for it because it made me harder to teach and often made them feel stupid.
I honestly wish I had gone with becoming a stuck up arrogant prat like so many other gifted little boys.
It might have made me unpleasant to be around but at least it could have gotten me some god damned respect.
Anyhow. Sorry, slipped into playback mode there. Ahem.
So going back to school is an option. And to a real university, not an education factory like frigging Kwantlen.
I didn’t hate my time there but I could have done way, way better.
Several professors told me so!
Choosing where to go would be hard. So many options! Maybe I should apply to a whole bunch of places and go with whoever treats me nicest.
Of course, I would also be applying for scholarships. Especially ones you earn via academic performance of some kind, like writing an essay.
I can write the FUCK out of an essay.
Plus whatever is around for us mature students.
I’d study psychology. That’s an easy call. I love the subject and I am exceptionally good at it. The long term goal would be to become a therapist.
That is, unless someone manages to seduce me into going into research. Spending my days in a lab does not appeal to me. I’m a thinker, we don’t need labs.
Though research assistants would be greatly appreciated.
And I would make a kickass professor, what with my charisma, public speaking talent, flamboyant personality, and dedication to making education fun.
So the academic path is a possibility for me. And one where I am not competing with a thousand other people all trying to make their dreams come true.
Maybe I would go to SFU, way up the mountain. Live in a dorm. Be on a meal plan. Look for the right gang of nerds to hang with.
Could be a pretty sweet life.
I will think about it.
More after the break.
Dark is the night
So it’s 10 pm and I am having “supper”.
Or “dinner”, for you people who don’t sup.
And I know I keep saying this, but this shit has to stop. This progression of meals where they just get later and later is getting way out of hand and it’s stressing me out.
It really boils down to my weird relationship with sleep. How I have this pattern of sleeping whenever I feel sleepy, like it’s a precious opportunity.
An opportunity to escape reality, maybe.
But it’s more than that. I think there is something fundamentally fucked about my sleep. Something that makes me crave it all the time but no matter how much sleep I get, that need is still not satisfied.
The obvious culprit is my sleep apnea and the nutrient I am lacking is REM sleep, specifically the deep cycle kind.
Hence the recent pattern where once a day, I wake up from one of my many naps (problem) feeling very groggy and spaced out and shitty.
Sucks to experience but I am pretty sure it’s because I am having high REM density sleep and that’s a good thing.
But I don’t think it’s just sleep apnea depriving me of REMs. I think being in survival mode and having that fear-crazed little animal in my head constantly freaking out has a lot to do with it too.
Truth is, I never truly fully relax, even in my sleep. Part of me is still running on that hamster wheel and looking around for danger even when I am unconscious.
It’s a lot like this :
Did I link that recently? If so, sorry.
But for some reason I am having trouble thinking clearly lately.
The sleep apnea is solvable, at least in theory.
Which reminds me : I have to call Ray at Coastal Sleep to consult about the fact that when I use my CPAP, after about half an hour I wake up out of air and gasping and have to rip the mask off.
Unacceptable, obviously. I suspect the machine is not quite doing the job of keeping my airways open so I am not quite getting enough air.
Hopefully m’man Ray can tell me how to adjust the pressure or whatnot.
Anyhow, the sleep apnea is solvable via technology, but the deep down crazy critter in my brain requires a more intimate solution.
Somehow, I have to convince that poor little psycho that we are safe and he can finally relax, come home, get all the hugs and loves and snuggles he needs, then finally, at long last, get some sleep.
Come back home, little guy. We love you and miss you so much. Don’t be afraid to believe it is over. The bullies and the rapists and the callous and neglectful authority figures who threw you to the wolves rather than deal with you are all gone now.
And they will never, ever come back. All that’s left is their ghosts, and it’s safe to let them go as well.
Come home to us and I promise, everything will be warm and loving and good again.
Just like it was before Mom went back to work.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.