Sunday, May 4, 2014

The Other Side

Happy Dreams: Seeing my dad's face with a literal aura around it, a holy spirit, and I got to just stare at his face for the longest time, looking in awe at his ocean blue eyes. His smile was huge, but not crooked anymore like when he was alive. He looked perfect. Then he said, "I love you, Annie," and said, "I love you too." And he was gone, and I woke up. He literally just stopped by to say hello, but his aura was magnificently bright. I like those little reminders that he's still with me.

He was absolutely perfect, he wasn't jaundiced from alcohol, his smile beamed like he'd had his teeth capped (which I guess, in heaven, is an option), and our gazes met for what felt like hours, though it was probably a matter of a few seconds. But what stood out for me the most was the light around him. It was unlike any other I'd ever seen and not a product of my sedative/hypnotic sleeping pills. He was trying to tell me one of two things: 1) We're ready for you to come home or 2) Please, no matter what, don't give up.

Overall, I had a restless night's sleep. I was up 3 or 4 times and I'm not sure why. Yes, the Dad dream starkly awakened me, but other than that, I don't know why I was up so often. When I did get up again, at 8:30, I'd missed an email by 6 minutes from the chair of the department of my school program. She had some news. The school has decided to administratively withdraw me from the program because I failed to complete an internship last year, and when given a second chance, that all got messed up too. Keep in mind, classes start tomorrow for summer term, and I was ready to go, not thinking there'd be any trouble. I got 2 A's and a B last term, got all of my work in on time, and was pleased and looking forward to continuing towards my masters degree, but...

Essentially, yes. I've been kicked out of school.

There is an opportunity for appeal of this decision, for which I will voraciously fight at all costs.

Or maybe I won't.

Maybe #1 was right and as we all are painfully aware in life, not all of us are meant to grow old. Friday, I'll turn 42, the same age my dad was when he died. It seems so young, but feels so old. It's the answer to the meaning of life, according to science fiction writer, Douglas Adams, you know. 42. I do have plans with Guy for my birthday, after a 5 hour class downtown.  A walk around the Art Institute. Dinner, jazz and time to talk. I'll grant him enough time to see me then, but after that, I honestly can't make any more promises to anyone. Tomorrow night, I'm seeing Meg. She has enough going on not for me to bother her with my foibles. Everybody does, really. Which makes my fights and my decisions solely my own. I've reached out to my Pastor, who maybe can talk some sense into me as to why it's not a supremely superb idea to join that light.

If I lose school, I lose everything. I stand to face tribulation for which I'd prefer to admit myself to a psychiatric ward rather than deal with the wrath which I'd face at home from my living parent. I will have disappointed too many people. For as much as I promised, I vowed I wouldn't fuck things up, I guess I fucked up irreversibly this time.

With the blithe form letter from the school with a "take care" at the end of it, and a blatant lie in one of the reasons why they want to dismiss me, I decided to go over the heads of any committee they might converge and wrote a pleading letter to the president of the school. If their mission statement is to provide and improve social justice for those more unfortunate, those who are in need, and if the president stands by the fact that his door is always open for student concerns, what could it hurt?

Meanwhile, my financial aid will get fucked up again, my stipend on which to live delayed, and I'll go broke. I haven't received any child support from my ex-husband for 2 months. I'm bleeding money keeping Luke and I afloat. I have a small life insurance policy which'd be enough for Luke to cremate me, and get through high school. Although he hates staying with and living with his father and the new wife, he's resilient enough to adapt, I think, even though he calls me every day when he's with his dad. Tonight, we're supposed to watch "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" together, Luke just having finished the book and planning to write his book report based upon the novel. (I made him promise to watch it until he finished the book.)

I purposely have kept my mother out of the loop on all that's been going on, because I wouldn't need to kill myself--she'd kill me on her own, and I mean that sincerely. She's not exactly the smiling light in my dreams. She's the one who reminds me that I'm overweight, fucked in the head and a colossal slob who drains her of any joy (not that she has any, which is her own fault) in her life, which is an indirect mirror image of what my father's life was to her.

I have the means and I have a plan. It's a matter of executing such plans that's up for debate. Don't send anyone after me; you won't find me. I do and am trying to think of my son, who adores me and I him, but his life will be made 100 times more horrible as well if I get booted out of school. And what kind of life is that for him? He's already unhappy, except for when he's with me, which is something to strongly consider. I just don't know what to do now...fight or flight? Does the administration of my school honestly want a student's suicide on their conscience for the rest of their lives? Because it would be. I'm sure they'd sleep well at night.

Going to hell, I'm not worried about. I strongly feel my soul will eternally carry on, just like my father's. This is where Pastor's input would come in handy. I don't necessarily believe in eternal damnation, especially for those who have suffered enough on earth. I've been on the slow suicide train for years already.

"Where can a bum find dead and bored? When you gonna make it stop raining, Lord?"



2 comments:

Andrea Miklasz said...

I got a follow-up email from the president of the school whose open-door policy is deadlocked from him speaking to me about anything related to my situation. I've redirected towards the person he suggested, and will try to remember that Meg said the process will move more slowly than I want it to, and in the meantime, I'll go broke again, but the school doesn't seem to take a vested interest in the betterment of each student therapist. All of this will make me an ace divorce mediator, because I'm so full of hostility right now, or a great English professor, because I could write about it for days.

BMF said...

You told me Meg is helping you on your appeal, which makes me feel a little less ill at ease. But look at what you've accomplished outside of school...what a proud mama you must be, and that's more important than any degree which they could confer. Right? IF Adler can't see that you've sacrificed so much and given so much to better your life with Luke, NOT advocating anything in either direction, but yes, your blood would be on their hands.

Personally, I think you not being able to go to the president of the school about your problems, is utter bullshit. I hate to say it, but you're not the right kind of handicapped, displaced, disrespected, ready-to-sue student they're used to.

They should want to stay out of court. If you wanted, you could get a dozen disability advocates or a pro bono lawyer who'd help your appeal, but for now, do as much as you can with the information you've got. You said yourself they lied about one of the reasons for the dismissal. Use it.

Holler if you need me! Love you!