Sometime ago during graduate school a part of me died, or maybe it is on life support. I dont know. I was at my peak; I have found something I was actually really good at, and for the first time in my life I didn't feel stupid. It was wonderful, and then abruptly and abrasively that joy was wrenched from me by toxic personalities and wretched circumstances. I'd like to say I carried through with dignity, I held my head up high. But the truth is I feel damaged, never quite whole because a better side of me was sacrificed to survive.
I'd like to say I have made a full recovery. I'd like to say I am a well adjusted individual, and that I have made it a mission to prevent what happened to me from happening others. On the surface it looks good, I am in a good place, great colleagues, nice paycheck. teaching again etc. But the truth is there are still those dark moments, when that inner voice turns ugly. There is a part of me that I have to keep in check constantly so no one can get near and be hurt, because it is dark and scary whatever it is that lurks in the labyrinthine I have built from defensive mechanism upon defensive mechanism. Gallow humour, bad puns, excuses, deflections, projections, and transference, I have used them all. I went through the medical student syndrome equivalent while reading through DSM- V.
Why am I writing all of this? I am not sure, maybe just to get it off my chest. Perhaps you will see me differently. I know if I put all of my friends in a room together, a casual observer can almost mark the timeline in which happy-go-lucky and sweet Andy became goofy, guarded and flaky Andy. I still smile and laugh a lot, but as my mentor who knew me from before graduate school has observed, that laughter has a harsher edge to it, and maybe it will always be so.
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