Junior Year

This post falls under The Success portion of my childhood.

My junior year of high school was terrible.  I was burned out from practicing 30 hours a week.  Miserable doesn't even begin to describe how I felt.  I'd come to terms with the fact that I'd probably never get a job in the field I was training for and I didn't feel like putting for the effort and energy.  Hearing negative remarks about yourself day in and day out really being to wear on a person.  Knowing I'd never be given a chance to shine because my family didn't make large donations to the school hurt.  I didn't fit in with most of the girls and just wanted to discover who I really was rather than trying to fit a mold. 

In school, I found something that completely interested me and decided I'd like to pursue it as a career.  I fell in love with my camera.  I spent all of my lunch periods and study halls in the darkroom.  My camera was always with me taking photos every where I went.  Fellow students even paid me to take photos of them!

It took me weeks and weeks of finding encouragement from my 3 friends to finally tell my parents.  Well, my mother since she was the only person I ever talked to from home.  I was terrified.  I was always afraid of her reaction when I told her something she didn't want to hear. 

I told her I wanted to come home.  To get a job like a normal teenager, learn to drive a car, to just be me. 

NO! 

That was the answer I got.  I was told I would be finishing high school whether I liked it or not.  There was no quitting.  I would be graduating from my school whether I chose to pursue a career or not.  This wasn't like wanted to quite the soccer team mid-season or dropping out of the school play.  I can understand her pushing for me to finish those.  But telling your child she HAS to stay another year and a half in her own personal Hell is just cruel.  I'd never signed a contract saying I was locked into 3 years there.  One would think that if your kid gave you the opportunity to save thousands of dollars a year you'd jump on it.  Wouldn't you want your child living at home rather than the other side of the country, anyway?

I sank it to a pretty deep depression.  I started cutting.  Binge eating.  Abusing various pills.  Smoking.  The eating didn't help my situation.  It only made the negative comments worse.  I was seriously drowning.  Yet, for some reason, my parents never knew.  They didn't see it when I was home, the didn't ask my teachers or dorm parents how I was doing.  Nothing.  Sometimes I felt like my mother just didn't want me home. 

I asked again and again over the course of the year.  Each time hearing the same thing.  

 Sometimes I wonder where my life would be today had they said I could come home.