Preamble

This journal entry discusses mental health and the difficulty of maintaining it. In addition, several analogies are used that may be interpreted through a darker lens as describing suicidal or self-harming tendencies.

We want everyone reading this to understand that these analogies are flowery language only, not descriptions of any suicidal thoughts or actions. We are struggling, but We’ve never once considered that possibility, nor do We wish to. If you are unable to read or handle these topics, please stop reading now.

The Prison

When you’re innocent, and you’re unjustly thrown into a prison, and all you want is your life back, what will you do?

Perhaps the better question is… what won’t you do?

The answers are quite simple. To the first, almost anything. To the second, nearly nothing.

But what if that prison is of your own making? What if it was built through years of not realizing who you truly were inside? What if, without even knowing it, you’ve been strengthening those walls, brick by brick, day after day?

Well then, the answer seems fairly obvious. It’s time to change the technique.

And this… this is why We write today. Because We’ve finally realized that We’ve built Ourselves a prison, and the only way to escape is to tear those walls down.

The Path We’ve Walked

For so long, We’ve spent Our time convincing Ourselves that college, and the degree it promises, is the only way We’ll ever be successful. The only path forward.

And those around Us have reinforced that illusion, though many perhaps never intended to do so.

We have always wanted to work, and to do that work in one of three fields: technology, music, or writing. That goal has never changed.

Unfortunately, society does not tend to reward those whose work is not perceived as directly benefiting the populace. If people cannot immediately see the difference your work makes, then to many, it simply doesn’t matter.

That practically eliminates music from the beginning. Unless We become extraordinarily fortunate, and exceptionally skilled, We are unlikely to earn enough from music alone to survive.

Music, by its very nature, is a creative art, and one that society often takes for granted without even realizing it. The truth is that artists and musicians are frequently paid very little, even when their skills far surpass Our own.

Creative writing, the form of writing in which We excel, faces much the same problem. Though the potential earnings may be somewhat higher, most authors cannot survive on their writing alone. Society takes their work for granted, while publishers with considerable wealth act as gatekeepers, passing relatively little of that wealth on to the people who actually create the stories.

So that leaves one path. Technology.

Programming, IT administration, security consulting. All of these generally offer far greater financial opportunities than the creative arts.

The problem, however, is not necessarily becoming skilled enough to do the work. Nor is it learning responsibility in a workplace.

It’s simply obtaining the credentials that allow you through the door.

Enter higher education.

The grand undertaking. The fancy label that supposedly declares someone capable of working.

Four or more years of learning technical skills, business practices, responsibility, time management, communication, and countless other little things besides.

On the surface, it sounds wonderful. You learn a tremendous amount of information, much of which you may need anyway. You build connections, develop your skills, and eventually walk away with that coveted degree. It isn’t everything you’ll ever need to learn, but at least you’re finally going somewhere.

And this is the path We’ve been trying to walk. Every step We’ve taken has been leading Us here. Leading Us straight through the open doors of a prison of Our own design.

The Cliff’s Edge

What happens when the path you’ve been walking leads you to a cliff? What happens when the only way forward appears to be over an edge from which you cannot climb back? Do you take that plunge, or do you turn and search for a side trail?

For Us, the answer is simple. We take the side trail.

We’re in Our sophomore year of college now, and that edge is approaching far more quickly than We would like.

We’ve had one good semester. Our first, funnily enough, which We hear is supposed to be the hardest. Yet for Us, it was by far the easiest.

Certainly, there were stumbling blocks. An inaccessible math class We had to drop, some difficulties in other classes, and the usual challenges that come with navigating an educational system that isn’t always designed with Us in mind, but none of that was new.

Being blind, and being forced to advocate for yourself from an early age, teaches you to be stubborn rather quickly. We are certainly no exception. Accessibility problems, assignments taking longer than expected, conversations with instructors about alternative workloads, keeping in contact with support services. None of these were unfamiliar challenges.

But what happens when those systems fail? What happens when you’ve done everything you’re supposed to do, and there simply isn’t another way to solve the problem?

After that first semester, We began finding out.

Another inaccessible math class.

This time, We tried to stick it out. We attempted to obtain the worksheets in an accessible format, but the Disability Resource office was too slow. We worked with the instructor, but because the department controlled the course so tightly, there was very little he could do.

A great fellow, truly, but he was practically teaching with his hands tied behind his back. And so, We failed.

Then there was medieval history.

We fell behind. Badly. Not because the subject wasn’t interesting, nor because We didn’t want to do the work. Quite the contrary, actually. But the sheer amount of reading, combined with the stress of mathematics and the workload of a programming class, was staggering. We simply couldn’t keep up. And so, again, We failed.

And then… there was that programming class. We completed every assignment, despite being bored out of Our minds. We learned practically nothing new, save for the rather unfortunate discovery that the R programming language is almost entirely useless to a blind person.

But We did the work. Every last piece of it. Or so We thought.

On one of the final days of class, as We were walking out the door, the professor stopped Us. Now, this was someone We found thoroughly obnoxious, and We’re fairly certain he didn’t particularly like Us either, perhaps because We’d corrected him on two occasions when he was wrong.

The conversation went something like this:

Professor: “Hey, Animmyrath, email me after class.”

Us: “Sure, what about?”

Professor: “Just email me.”

Us: “Uh… okay?”

And so We did. Or so We thought. Apparently, the email never went through, and We suspect some sort of networking issue.

As it turned out, there were assignments on Canvas that We had not seen, and therefore had not completed. The professor, in his infinite wisdom, apparently decided that the last day of class was the ideal time to bring this to Our attention.

Except, rather than simply telling Us what was wrong, We had to endure that awkward exchange, which became an unsent email, which became… You guessed it. Another failed class.

We passed precisely one class that semester. Public speaking.

And throughout all of this, We were not Ourselves. We openly admit that We were utter assholes to practically Our entire friend group. We are profoundly grateful that the majority tolerated Our frankly harsh, ignorant, and often unacceptable behavior.

And to those who couldn’t, We don’t blame you in the slightest. We had problems, and We refused to see them.

Alright, so We had a bad semester. It happens sometimes. That’s what We told Ourselves. We ignored the underlying issues, both with Our ability to manage all the moving parts of college and with the mental burnout We were steadily cultivating.

Burnout that, until today, We were still allowing to grow.

Enter this semester.

Things began falling apart almost immediately.

Our academic adviser failed to respond in time for Us to arrange a meeting about scheduling classes, leaving Us to rely on Our father’s knowledge and Our own limited understanding of the available courses.

Big mistake.

But We reassured Ourselves that things would be different this time. We had an apartment now. We’d have food readily available, a space of Our own, somewhere We could manage stress and maintain Our frankly bizarre sleep schedule without disturbing anyone else. Surely that would help.

Well… that optimism didn’t last particularly long. As it turns out, taking two writing-intensive courses alongside another that relies heavily on visual information is not a particularly wise decision for a blind student.

But wait! There were still ways out of this.

We contacted state services to discuss reducing Our credit load while retaining the financial support We needed to attend college. That conversation went reasonably well. They agreed that We could drop a class, so We moved on to the Disability Resource office, and received no response.

This is where everything began falling apart again. This has become an exhausting cycle at this college. Whenever We need the Disability Resource office to do something, or even simply help Us accomplish something, they seem to fail precisely when We actually need them.

It’s as though We practically have to do their job for them, repeatedly following up like the world’s most irritating micromanager at your least favorite restaurant.

An occasional mistake? Fine. An accidentally missed email? Understandable. We all screw up sometimes. But this isn’t the first time, and We have very little reason to believe it will be the last if We continue down this path.

And now We arrive at the final piece of the problem. Our own mind.

After two full semesters of struggle, and a third bringing yet more difficulties, We’ve finally recognized that, alongside all the external obstacles, there is another problem We can no longer ignore.

As previously stated, We are no strangers to difficult work. In fact, We’d go so far as to say We enjoy it. Without a challenge, We become bored rather quickly.

But We seem to struggle tremendously with bringing work and life together in a sustainable way. And sure, sometimes life is difficult. Sometimes you’ve simply got to put your paw down and roll with the punches. But when you start having panic attacks every single time you attempt to open your coursework outside of class hours, perhaps it’s time to consider that your mind is trying to tell you something rather important.

We are standing at an edge, and if We jump, We’ll break Our legs. Frankly, this path has probably already sprained an ankle… or two.

If We continue following this path toward Our goal, We will fall long before We ever reach it.

And that… That, We cannot accept. We have far too much to live for. Far too much to fight for.

We refuse to take that jump. We refuse to fall over that edge.

so it’s time to return to that prison wall, and tear the whole damn thing down.

The New Path

When you walk a trail, you rarely know precisely where it will lead.

You may not know what obstacles await, whether there will be places to rest, or whether the trail will eventually branch into something entirely unexpected.

And this new path? We don’t know where it leads yet.

Perhaps another college. Perhaps professional certifications. Perhaps some opportunity that comes from a place We never would have thought to look.

We cannot say for certain, but We do know one thing. It leads away from that cliff’s edge, and out of the prison We’ve built around Ourselves.

Fear will not hold Us back any longer.

We’re done ignoring Our instincts.

We’re going to walk this new path, and We’re going to stop doubting Ourselves when We recognize that something simply isn’t working.

This is not giving up. It is learning to work smarter.

The fox does not need to exhaust itself chasing its prey across the forest floor when it can instead wait among the branches and pounce at precisely the right moment.

There is more than one way to reach a goal, and We have spent far too long convincing Ourselves otherwise.

We rarely speak as one collective these days. We’ve learned to trust one another to find the right way forward, and most decisions no longer require all of Us to speak with a single voice.

But when We do? That decision is important, and it is final.

So when We awoke this morning, and together, for the first time in months, said:

“No more.”

We knew something had to change.

We will still speak with those close to Us, those who can help ensure We are not making this decision in a moment of rash impatience, but We sincerely doubt they will disagree. And even if they do, We doubt they will change Our minds.

We are done. Today, the prison begins to fall, and nothing is going to stop those walls from coming down.