Last night watching the meteor shower, I watched the stars fall so quick. A heap of shooting stars is a sight I enjoy seeing. As the first one fell I closed my eyes and made a wish. My wish was that when I arrived at the psychological assessment’s follow-up meeting, all would be well. I thought in addition to praying, this would be a nice support.

I was extremely nervous about this meeting. My college career rests upon the words of one woman who knows me from one meeting and a recollection of my account of things tied along with the college’s. I arrived 28 minutes early and composed myself as a strong individual while inside I was nervous and my heart was pounding. This is a feeling I rarely get.

Her relaxed and calm feelings suggested positive feedback was about to administered, but then again psychologists are robotic, they’re expressions often mislead us foolish enough to believe them. The meeting was going to be interesting and I had a strange sense of paranoia that some people with white suits were seconds away from jumping out and grabbing me, injecting tranquilizers into me, and shipping me off to some ward. I examined the room for a way to escape and objects that I could defend myself with. Some may say it was an overreaction, but they haven’t lived my story.

She asked me how I felt about the previous session and I told her an honest answer: optimistic yet uncertain. She proceeded to tell me there had been some complications. I immediantly thought that the test results came back negative and that it suggested I lied on the answers. I then thought maybe it suggested I was to happy and she did not believe me. That was not the case.

She pulled papers onto a ministand and showed me a weird line graph. The graph was your classic one x by one y line. It had two parallel lines in the middle. Along the vertical line were numbers like 1-10. On the horizontal axis were letters. The line looked like a stock market examination going up and down or some hospital graph in which I was on my last heartbeat and lines were swiggling across some paper receipt paper.

She explained what it meant and it was relieving. The test was alarmingly accurate. It suggested a lot of positive things. One was that I was optimistic, was not interested in a girlfriend, had a lot of goals and dreams in positive ways, was cheerful, exceptionally honest, exceptionally outgoing, easy going, easy to relate to, realtes well with people’s feelings, and that I had perseverence, determination, and—as she stated, was one of the most ocntent people with their lives and how they live. She said it was the highest positive scores she’s ever received.

The negative thing was that I do not like restraints and that I will push very hard against barriers and walls. She told me sometimes people come off crazy fighting restraints.

The complication was when the psychologist spoke with Marty Barlow. She said that I was not being honest and that I held back a lot of information. She told me the problem started during the summer and she sent the psychologist a 108 page statement on me. She got it this morning and has not had time to read it.

The most disturbing thing she said was that Marty Barlow (BC’s counselor) said that while during a session with her, I admitted the entire thing. She said I told her I lied and that I really did say I had a gun and was going to kill myself. I FOUGHT with myself a lot. I wanted to stand up and yell unkind words and curse words shouting and protesting that she was a liar. Instead I said in a very irritated and angry voice (but in control), "That’s a lie. I didn’t tell that nitwit sqaut."

I thought for some time the woman was delusional and thought she was right. But to invent truth that does not exists and present it, is very wrong. I want her fired. I was advised by the psychologist that she could tell I hate establishments abusing people but that I had to stop fighting it. She wants me to see a different counselor during the school year to vent about BC so I do not do it to BC. I hate that idea but it’s better than the alternatives I thought of. I even knew she would say that. I thought of saying I have friends for that, but friends can only hear so much before it consumes them too and they get tired of hearing it. It’s a constant in my life but not theirs. I do not know what counselor’s expect from me, I think their advice is common sense and stuff I know. I am competent with my life and able to make choices that are rational. It feels coerced and like punishment. Nevertheless, she did say she would tell BC that I was not a danger to myself or others.

Nevertheless, I am VERY nervous about Ms. Barlow. Being a former teacher at Page (I knew she sucked the moment I found that out), I wonder what her 108 page statement will say. What she thinks I am not telling and what further lies she’ll invent. I feel very usnafe when counselors lie. That was the biggest shocker of the whole ordeal, that she would actually lie about me.

I have another meeting before it all is settled August 22^nd. I hate waiting and I hate uncertainty.

Tomorrow I will go in for a psychological assessment. I’ve waited for this day impatiently for a long time. With my appointment being less than 24 hours away, I must admit I no longer want this. I wish I could run and hide in a corner and make it all disappear. I know in my heart as well as everyone else that I am not suicidal or homicidal. However, the fate of many things will rest on the decisions of the psychologist. People say everything will turn out good and they have optimism in their vision, but reality speaks a different language. The truth is things do not always turn out right, truth is not always the strongest power, and the position of the occupations of Dean Miracle and Marty Barlow give them an upper-hand.

A few positive things to come out of this are that I will finally have an exact IQ score. IQ tests are a part of the assessment. I will also have to make patterns and images out of ink blobs on paper. This is the type of test I always found hilarious. Now, my future could depend on what I happen to see in these ink blobs. That is a very scary thought.

The most troubling thing for me is that I do not think there can be a full positive and glorious outcome. If I fail and she does not believe me, then I do not return to Bridgewater and have a mental illness on my record that would hinder my ability to work with children in the future. If I pass and she believes me, then I am sure she will still have stipulations and recommendations. She’s a psychologist and people in that field don’t seem to think people can sort out things on their own. No matter how content or happy you are with your life, in their eyes you always need some sort of therapy. I do not want it or need it. I want a stress-free life and a normal one.

I will keep you all updated on how this turns out. Tomorrow is my assessment. I have to wait longer for another meeting to review the findings and her recommendations. Why has such evil been allowed to happen for so long?

"How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart you begin to understand there is no going back? There are some things time cannot mend, some hurts that go to deep, that has taken hold." –Frodo, LoTR 3

It’s been awhile since I last updated this journal but I have decided it is time for another post. This is mainly due to my need to express my feelings so I understand them better. I feel like I’m not alright as much as I believe I have moved on past the situation. I do not like to drown in my past and make everyone else suffer with my sad and depressing complaints, so do not continue to read further if I have annoyed you—this is just something I need to do.

I feel torn between two identities currently, or a better way to describe it—I feel as if I am on a ship. I am parting from my past on unknown waters, leaving the shore currently. I do not want to leave the safety of the land and the security of my past, but I am doing it anyways. I feel as if I could swim back and be reunited to my old self. The truth is that aside from all the hurt and pain I felt last semester, my old self was a much happier and much more alive person. I was arrogant and temperamental, but filled with joy and laughter. It is true that I am recuperating. I have been told that I will only get stronger, that pain is weakness leaving the body. I am starting to wonder though if this strength and weakness leaving the body also means that happiness and joy exits with it.

I never thought I was the emo type, but now I feel so. When I am with friends, I can usually pull off a genuine smile and laugh, but I never stop thinking about what happened. I went to eat with a friend the other day and had great joy. However, when I got up to get a refill on orange soda, it consumed me--this upset feeling. Do some wounds get deeper with time? This empty-hollow feeling has been with me so long that it feels like another limb or organ that has always been there.

I do not know if I will ever understand why this has happened to me. I do not know if I can ever begin to even grasp why somebody would do something so horrible to me. I thought I knew him and could trust him, but now it is clear that I never knew him. He seems to be doing fine, smiling as usual and laughing as usual and enjoying himself. He has endured no suffering, no remorse, no guilt. It’s as if how he treats me and lies about me does not matter, as if ruining my life does not matter. To be so upset for so long is not a light issue. The fact that I have to get these psychological assessments to prove whether I am suicidal or homicidal is a huge insult, degradation of character, and stressor. All of which is attributed to his lie, and further, the campus administration’s belief in it despite overwhelming numbers of witnesses and testimonies.

I do not feel as if I have any rights at college. No right to be upset, for then I am suicidal. No right to be angry, for then I have anger management issues. No right to defend myself, for then I am homicidal. No right to speak, or I am crazy. I also feel as if the college is using my education as a threat to bully me into doing what it wants. It’s that "if you want to return to Bridgewater in the Fall", "If you desire to register for classes", "if you would like to continue your education on our campus" mentality they constantly use against me. It’s the you have a choice attack, meaning you can choose to say no but you don’t get a education. I’m a sharecropper.

To be very honest I’m not sure I can endure this much more. I do not know that I can take the administration taking a strong interest in proving I am mental and also allowing Dustin to do whatever he wants because if I defend myself, I will always be in the wrong in their eyes. He has the power of the administration in his hands to manipulate and he knows it. It is so wrong. It is a conflict of self, to want justice and fairness and dignity verses an education through submissiveness and oppression. The sad truth is I am not sure if I can continue college much longer under these circumstances and that is really troubling me. Especially if this ruins my chance of being a teacher, what then would be the point. My education is centered around teaching, including my degree.

I’ve got enough worries with normal education on my mind that I should not have to worry about this. College is stressful, but to add something more to it, what do people expect of me. I feel so tired and worn out at college with this situation, trying to be a student and to prove I am not a lunatic. I've had masive headaches, body aches, and many moments where I felt as if I could not breathe. Can this be healthy? I am sure not! Some forced counseling this is that makes you feel like that!

Looking back on life is always a blessing, especially when you keep a record. Upon recent stresses and inconveniences in my life, I resorted to reading old journal blogs and looking through my extensive collection of pictures. It took me back to a time of great happiness, but also regret and remorse. I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life to good people and also have had the unfortunate but all too common experience of losing friendships at my own expense. Broken love and broken friendship is a war we all survive. As a result of my flashback experiences, I have decided to rekindle my typing abilities to reunite with livejournal. It’s nice knowing what I felt and thought in the past. It is because of this I choose to devote myself to writing about my life and it’s stages more frequently.

It’s been three months since Dustin and I got into our argument and it has been very difficult. To not understand the why is the most difficult part. It makes my brain fatigued as my thoughts race to comprehend why he did this to me. I forgive him but I cannot forget.

Just today I sat lying n my bed half imagining where I would be and what I would be doing if we were still friends. The other half of me was trying to absorb the reality that what he did is unprecedented and wrong.

I finally stopped feeling guilty and longing for friendship. Today I comprehended in totality that what he did was wrong, what he did was undeserved, and that I do not need him. I wrote a letter to the Dean and the counselor expressing a full and honest statement about how this situation has affected me, what I think of how it was handled, and how I think it should have been handled. It felt good and was much needed. I have decided that I have apologized enough for doing not much of anything and will not settle for being pushed around anymore.

On brighter notes, I have a new friend, and I am trying to name him. He’s this stray that agreed to trust me and it looked very difficult. Any name suggestions?

I am quite uncertain of the topic I am writing on today. The only thing I know is that I want to blog. Everyday that I live remains quite an odd collaboration of happiness with tragedy, and a journey in finding out how to cope with both stress and persecution, while remaining true to who you are.

After a long and drawn out time of quarreling, Bridgewater College made me an offer today. They told me that I could indeed return back to Bridgewater in the Fall, so long as I undergo a psychological assessment by Laura Goolsy in Harrisonburg. I also have to give Dr. Goolsy permission to speak both with the Dean of Student Affairs and the counselor who spoke with me first. The ability to go back to college and finish a life’s striving of work is tempting, yet something holds me back.

I do not feel that I can trust the administration or counselors in general. It seems like they have a close net with each other in which they trust each other’s own assessment without giving fresh eyes on a situation. I fear that in signing a release for them to speak with Marty, the counselor who first spoke with me, I could be placing my life and future in grave danger.

This is not because I have told her any deep dark secrets of my life, but rather, her interoperation of who I am and what really happened varies significantly from reality and truth. Before I even spoke to the woman, she had determined that the accusations made about me were true. She gave me no opportunity to clarify what happened. She is single-minded and very biased, smart, but limited. As a close friend said, "You walk into her office and you have a problem in her eyes, regardless of whether you do or not".

I wonder what is the best solution here. She already tried, the counselor, to twist my words and get me deemed mentally ill at Rockingham Memorial Hospital, but failed. And after many emails and personal talks, both the Dean and Counselor have not given me a clear reason as to why I have to do this, just saying I’m working on an email. An email, I should note, that has not arrived many weeks later. Nothing is clear with these people and I worry about their intentions.

And if I am able to return to college in the Fall, is it wise? Is it worth it? I cannot answer such things clearly. I know life isn’t fair, but I refuse to settle for something less than great. I don’t think what happened to me was either fair or just, and I would feel an ultimate slave if I gave into them, submitted and let me be oppressed for a career. I’d be a sharecropper. I’d bargain my safety, my dignity, and my freedom in order to get a degree.

The worse part is that it is always my fault, I am ruining his life and now I have to be controlled and dealt with. It isn’t fair that he should not be able to experience wonderful college years because I’m causing him harassment and stress. This is their mentality I believe, but they have closed their eyes to the things they hold dear as an institution. The ability to think freely, analyze and synthesize, and challenge perspectives. I am disappointed in this college and would not recommend it to any prospective student.

The best friend I have ever knew has cordially stabbed me in the back with a wound that seems to get deeper and deeper with time. It is an infectious disease of hatred and betrayal that had spread into every corner of my life from my religion to work to school. I wonder often whether he even cares about me, because I know he once did. I wonder if spends nights awake as I have, thinking about this situation. One lie can change your life forever, just when you begin to settle into it so comfortably.

Where am I to go? What am I to do? I have so many questions pounding through my head, so many decisions to make, and all of them have to be made carefully and wisely. They say time heals everything and yet, I stand here waiting. . .