Being that I was homeschooled all my life, college has really been a new experience. Over the past 5 semesters I've learned that college doesn't just teach you things about certain subjects, it teaches you about yourself.
Introduction to Psychology was a HUGE eye opener. My teacher had a way of figuring out that one thing you're keeping hidden and working it to the surface and helping you cope with it. There were about 25 people in that class, and he knew everyone of us better than we knew ourselves.
So much happened during that class... I had my first public panic attack... I unrepressed memories... I cried in front of others for the first time in years... It was just supposed to be a college course. Get in, get an A, graduate, get out. But,, it was more like a therapy session for all of us. One that we needed, some more than others.
My next psych course, Abnormal Psychology, was with the same teacher. It was the same way. At the end of the course I had asked for extra credit. He told me to write a paper. Subject? Me. What made you the person you are today.... oh my gosh... I have been struggling with that question ever since my trauma happened... I couldn't hold it any longer... I wrote it down... everything... that horrible thing that now defines me as a person.
So tonight, In Children and Families, when we thought we would simply turn in our Self-Socialization Sketches and be on our way, my sketch that just happened to have some info about my trauma, our teacher says that SURPRISE! You get to present them NOW! To the WHOLE CLASS! The class that has a best friend, an enemy, and plenty of strangers.
How did I do? Wonderful. I have been tongue-tied all day, but when it came to choosing the perfect words to describe what I'm going through, it all flowed perfectly.
My college career is just beginning, but in the few short semesters that I've been there, I can already see a progress. Again, not just in my basic subjects, but in myself.
I have went from being the girl who took a 20 minute bathroom break in the middle of class just to sob my eyes out in the stall, to a girl that can say, almost with confidence, that I am a survivor of sexual abuse to strangers that I have to face 3 days a week.
I know I'm not even close to the "Road to Recovery" but at least I'm starting to see it off in the distance.