Social Justice & Organizing Work, Student Life

Fuck December

I haven’t really let myself feel for the entirety of December. The month has been weighed down by the stress of school, compounded by financial insecurity and issues within my romantic life. I haven’t been myself for a while, haven’t written the same way I would the last two months I’ve had this blog. I’ve been heavy, unable to face my personal issues head on, and unable to true connect to my writing. In many ways, I’ve been emotionally vacant and unresponsive, causing me to act out and take things too personally.

School within itself this semester was a shit show. Almost every class was traumatic. Calculus was full of egotistical frat boys and aspiring entrepreneurs, our professor spewing his apolitical rhetoric every now and then. The women and fem people of the class experienced a trauma well known within STEM, forced to deal with the bull-headed misogyny that resonated in the classroom.  My Earth Science class reeked of whiteness, within not only the professor but the students. Even in my most radical, critical thinking class was I met with trans-exclusionary, hyper masculine rhetoric and found myself scrambling to defend myself as an organizer in a space that I should feel free to share my radical politics in. One by one, my spaces became more and more violent and I found myself dependent on marijuana, scraping the last bits of each bowl.

This was compounded by my own financial stress. Too many bills and too many surprises came by way nearing the end, where I had to reach out to my parents for help after being independent financially from them since the Summer. It became increasingly harder to talk about anything financial and was especially traumatizing because of all the financial insecurities I held in my youth being brought to my attention for the first time. I had to deal with myself when I couldn’t, since somehow surviving was a blurry picture. I started to starve myself to bring down costs, feeding into my existing eating disorder. Everything took a sharp turn when I almost passed out studying in the library, and the instincts of survival kicked in.

This weight that I’ve been carrying with me for the entirety of the year is still very much so on my shoulders, but I’d be lying if I said it was the only thing I carried with me. Somehow in all this mess, between the booze and polarizing classes, I found a new love that opened up an unknown world to me. I found solace in my writing, each piece lightening my load. I was able to be mentored by an amazing professor, the same professor who ignited my fire for writing and gave me the confidence to demand my voice be heard. I found a new, revolutionary love within my collective. The kasamas and lifelong friends who only a phone call away, ready to be by my side through the hardships. I found a home, after feeling lost for so long.


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