We're really testing my ability to call myself a homebody

Let me weave you a tale of me in mid-March: stressed. Very stressed. As always. It was marking time and I had a lot of lab reports to get through again, and I knew the last lab report, consisting of the two longest sections, was something I was going to have to mark next. I was juggling bridesmaids drama- namely that one of the bridesmaids was, if not definitively a piece of shit person, decidedly acting like one, and the other helpful bridesmaids and I were trying to put together a bachelorette party 3 weekends before the wedding in mid-April. I was going to the gym twice a week, which had a positive effect on my mental health that cannot be understated (and for 25% the price of therapy, too!), and was looking forward to my teaching duties being done early so I could start to get some real work done on my project. I was going to try Baby's First Apoptosis Assay once marking was really, truly done, get some positive controls for my CB1 western blots, find a way to isolate protein with a broken sonicator, finish my RNA experiments, and see about ordering a new cell line. 

I met with my supervisor on Wednesday, something akin to seeing Bigfoot in the woods, and taught all day on Thursday, something akin to having a hangnail that you just KNOW you can't trim until you get home even though it keeps getting caught on your sleeve. With a fellow graduate student and TA, I shared that I thought that the university would really try to wrap up the remaining two weeks of the semester before shutting down. There were only two weeks left. Only two other major institutions in the country had shut down at this point. I was silently mustering strength in the background to get through the next month of my life, which was going to be extremely busy and require delicate time management.

And then they brought the hammer down.

Classes- cancelled. Labs, including the one I taught- cancelled. In-person meetings cancelled. Suddenly we had to tell the PIs exactly when we'd be in the lab and for how long, and I was instructed to wear a mask when in the lab at all times- despite me only going in at 7pm or later and being completely alone the entire time. A week later I was advised by the same PIs to freeze my cells and not return to campus. I keep kicking myself for having left a bunch of stuff in my "office"- a charging cord, several types of tea, some snacks, a little cactus that is actually just a painted rock, a sense of normalcy- you know. But at the time I don't think anyone could have predicted just how long we'd be gone. I still haven't been back- that marks almost three full months out of the lab- the same amount of time I lost to the move to the new building last summer. Given how much more slowly we're going to have to proceed when we get back, I'm thinking it's safe to say I've now lost a lot more time than just three months.

The bachelorette party never happened. The wedding did. I attended it on zoom, something I cannot recommend against enough. There are few things more painful than watching one of your best friends get married over a low-quality web stream in which their other friends and relatives will not stop spamming the chat with smart ass comments and you can't hear any of the vows, but CAN clearly hear the officiant say "well, at least the people who really mattered were able to be here with you today." I imagine one of the things more painful is having to try and reschedule your wedding in the context of a major global pandemic, just to be clear. While I'll still be able to party it up in my bridesmaids dress I paid $100 extra to rush-order which is currently the most ironic thing that has ever happened to me, I'm still processing the pain of that experience in private, on my own time. I think a lot of us are doing that right now.

Oh, by the by- I'm engaged now too. Redbeard and I will someday get married- also someday we will live together BEFORE getting married, but of course the two-posts-ago-mentioned breaking of his leg delayed his program by a semester, so now we get to move in January during the same semester of my comprehensive exam, and before you say that we could just live with my parents for a semester, you haven't been living with my parents, which I would advise you to keep in mind. I would much rather throw away money on rent than listen to my parents talk for one more second about how rent is just throwing away money.

That's the kicker, too- I went to see Redbeard in person, so fortunately my engagement was not via low-quality web stream, but was instead by a high quality real life stream, with a ring gently nestled inside of a container of flyfishing flies, right between my favourites- the hoppers (which I used this weekend knowing full well it was way too early for fish to be interested in anything that juicy). However, my ever-paranoid mother has insisted upon my return both that I have to get tested (which will happen in about 24 hours and inevitably come back negative) and that I have to quarantine in my room for 14 days. Now I am about one week into that, and I feel as though my sister is about one more time preparing a meal for me away from just hugging me in full view of our parents so we can be quarantined together. It really is something to come home from getting engaged and not feeling a single human touch for two weeks. Probably also on that list of things more painful than attending your best friend's wedding over a low-quality web stream, along with having to live apart from your fiancee for another 6.5 months. This is despite the fact that neither Redbeard nor any of his outdoorsy friends he's been in contact with have reported having The Virus (and I know he would tell me if he was quarantining for that reason, if not because he knows I'd want to know, then because it would mean two weeks not being in the mountains and that would be quite difficult for him). Let me repeat: there is literally no basis to having me do this besides the fact that my mother does not see that she clearly has an anxiety disorder and needs to go to therapy so the rest of us can stop tiptoeing around her feelings lest we trigger another passive aggressive silent treatment.

And then comes the fun realization that this pandemic has fucked us all up, to the point that I'm almost certain I'm not the only one that can't watch movies anymore because any scene containing two or more people from different households in close proximity activates my fight-or-flight response and seems extremely unrealistic. We all took it as a given that it was safe to be social and enjoy the company of others, and that was ripped away, and we all know we can't move to some kind of online pod society where we never interact with others in person because humans are social creatures by nature and as such we now must find a way to end this situation such that we can like, hug each other again, or collectively we're going to lose it.

So for once I'm using some of the tags for this blog that I made when I was like, 13, and never bothered to change because I figured those were all the classifications I'd ever need, and then stopped using when I inevitably didn't need them anymore. Because you know what? This fully classifies as :(, dread and the like, low points, and sad stuff. Thanks, 13 year old me. I hope you all out there are okay.

Gratitude

I'm starting to wonder if I should start a journal for this of some sort. I'm going through a rough time right now (and it's not even me who's directly affected), and I'm thinking maybe trying to focus on all the little good things that happen even in the shittiest of times will cheer me up.

Besides that, I feel it might be wise to develop some... positive thinking habits, or something. The future might be even darker than this (and yes, it is true, it may well not be). From here on out things are going to be tricky and different and scary, at least for a little while, and I have to find some way to get through it.

Thankfully not on my own, since many of my close friends and my family know what's going on. I think I figured out that "a worry shared is a worry halved" thing- when you share a worry with someone, you don't have to pretend you're not stressed around them. Hiding stress from people is really tough. When you tell someone and they offer support, that is one less person around whom you have to pretend.

I'm also trying to take advantage of campus resources. And encouraging others to do the same. I don't know how helpful it will be but maybe just talking about it more will do some good.

Either way, I'm coming out of this. And I'm coming out of it better equipped to handle shit. This certainly won't be the last time I'll face trials and tribulations as a result of loving people. Eventually it will come to some kind of end, whether that be temporary or permanent. I know this hell can't last forever.


Sorry for the dramatics and being vague, but this isn't really my problem to talk about in public. To be clear: someone really close to me is going through a lot of shit, and I'm worried about them. A lot. But it'll be ok. Even when it feels like it won't.

yer pal,
swegan

Not sure if I've touched on this before, but suicide is a big fucking thing and I need to say this

No, I've never been suicidal, but I did have a friend who was, earlier this year. We're friends more because our parents are friends, considering she lived an 8-hour drive away, but for some reason earlier this year she chose to confide in me. I have no idea why. It was in the midst of final EE writing- I was pretty stressed out- and she just started texting me, telling me about her life and all these things she was going through.

It was a lot of shit. Friends should be nice to each other, kay? If people aren't being nice to you, they aren't your friends. That is always true. Always.

She sent me some poetry once, and that was when she first mentioned suicide at all. That worried me, but I figured she was okay, that that had been in the past and she'd made it through- she wasn't quite okay now, but she was a bit better.

And we kept texting. I think it only went on for 5 days or so, but when I look back on it it feels like it lasted for weeks. In between trying to console her (she had sworn me to secrecy and I was very torn about what to do; it ate me up inside for weeks) and trying to deal with the barrage of IB work I had, I was pretty stressed out and miserable.

I finally snapped on a Tuesday. We had a couple of chem labs that week, some bio stuff, I'm sure lots of other stuff- likely two history readings due with an in-class essay on Thursday- and I was in Spanish class. It was second period, I'd just had chem, and I was feeling a bit stressed, trying to console myself and listing the things I had to do because that always helps me realize there's not that much to do. Our teacher started the class by saying we were going to have a quiz on Friday, and I just lost it. I turned away from the class, embarrassed that I was crying, and someone noticed, and Omnia took me out into the hallway.

She asked what was wrong, and I explained all the school stuff, and she gave me a hug, and tried to console me, and I ended up blurting out that I'd been texting one of my friends and I was really worried she was going to kill herself.

I guess I have Omnia to thank; she was the one who suggested I tell my advisor about it. He worked in the counselling office, so he I guess had some experience with it, and either way I'd be in the counselling office when it happened. (Omnia also admitted she was glad to get out of Spanish class, and that lightened the mood. I know she wasn't taking advantage of my sadness- it was just an unexpected bonus. I liked Spanish, but getting out of any class is fine with me).

During advisor period I did talk to my advisor- at first, in the main area of the counselling offices, with all the couches and students. I started crying in the middle of it, so he pulled me into his office and closed the door and I explained everything to him. He offered suggestions and we eventually worked out that he could call the guidance counselor at her school and tell that counselor that this student was having problems. We looked her up on facebook- thankfully, she had listed what high school she went to. He made sure I was okay, sent me on my way, and called the counselor.

I guess that friend- the one I was so worried about- thought that whoever told the guidance counselor had greatly exaggerated the situation. She texted me to ask if it was me later that day, and I eventually told her it was. She wasn't mad at me, and eventually I think she thanked me. I hope she realized that I did it because I'd finally decided that her life was worth more than our friendship, however big or small that friendship was.

It took me a few days to tell my parents about it. My dad later got mad at me, saying I should have said something sooner and it was stupid to leave it for so long, that if I had been texting her these things, he would have wanted her to tell her parents (who are friends with my parents), that things could have been much worse. That didn't help the situation- I already felt bad enough about that, and dwelling on something I couldn't change was useless. I'd been on the fence about it for days, even looking up on the internet what to do if a friend was considering suicide. The message I got was the same across the board- TELL SOMEONE. Every website said the same thing. Tell someone you trust, tell anyone, but do not keep it a secret. That was hard for me to get past. I'd never felt so conflicted about something in my entire life. I contemplated calling the Kids Help Phone line, but never did get around to it.

So I'd like to add mine to the list of messages that say tell someone. Really. Honest to god. Fucking go and tell someone right now. It's not going to get any better. Unless you're an experienced counselor, you're not going to help them by just trying to be there for them. Being there for them is important, yes, but it might not be enough, and aren't their lives worth more than that?
That was a key realization for me. Her life is worth more than our relationship. I realized I would rather have her live and hate me bitterly than die thinking I was such a good friend. That's the message nobody told me and that needs to be told.


I know the whole thing wasn't about me, and it still really isn't, but it threw me into a colossal funk for the next couple of weeks. I would get so sad for no reason that I would just cry. It almost felt sobering, like up to that point in my life I'd been giddy and almost drunk in my disposition, I had been too smiling, too bubbly, too happy, not serious enough. IB made it hard to get out, but time heals everything and eventually I got back to normal, even if normal was a new and different normal. I'm not the same person I was, but then no one ever is.

From what I've heard from her now, she's doing better, she's gotten into sports again and that's helped. I'm just glad she has people around her now that can support her and help her out and that it's not this big fucking secret anymore.

One thing I do have to say that doesn't sound pretty: what she did wasn't fair. I realize that yes, she was in a dark place, she was going through trouble, things weren't all peachy-and-sunny. But for her to ask me to keep a secret like this when I was already going through the stress of something like IB was really not fair. To her credit, she didn't know how stressful IB was, but still. I'm not saying she did this on purpose to be unfair, but more so that it was what I did- expected myself to go along with her wish that it be kept secret- that was unfair. That wasn't fair to me. I shouldn't have tried to hold so much on my shoulders. It's not fair to have to keep adding stresses to yourself. Don't do that. Please. It's not worth it. Life is short and you can't do everything right, so don't wear yourself out trying to. Please.


I guess that's all I have to say about that. Some secrets are not meant to be secrets and I mean that with every bit of my heart.

I know this is the part of these entries where people usually refer numbers, but I have none to give. All I can say is that if you know someone keeping a secret like this and you haven't told someone (by someone I mean someone trustworthy), do it right now. Forget your homework, your sports practice, all those things you have to get done. Do it now. Right. Fucking. Now.

yer pal,