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 22nd. I hate waiting and I hate uncertainty.