Alas, the end of summer and the beginning of fall semester had arrived. After a month of finding ways to kill time at home, I was back at school.
Despite all the health issues, I felt optimistic because I would be living with two good friends of mine. We lived in a suite-styled room with a big common room. My bedroom was spacious and I could not believe I was living in this building.
It felt great to be back at school with people I knew and could talk to physically, not just through text. I received a fair amount of sympathy with people asking me how I was doing. Physically, I felt a little sluggish but nothing I was overly concerned about. Mentally, and I did my best to hide it, but I was riding the struggle bus.
In the spring of my sophomore year, I thought I could take on a schedule consisting of six classes. I figured not having to worry about soccer would free up more time for my academics. Yet, I did not expect to stay a full week in the hospital and try to recover before school started in a month.
I thought I would not have to visit the hospital again, unless it was for a doctor’s appointment. As I watched the Patriots play against the Steelers, I started tapping my legs uncontrollably. After that, I had no idea what happened. I returned from my daze, only to find myself in the back of an ambulance again. Thankfully my heart did not stop, but I had a seizure.
There I was, lying in a hospital bed at Newton-Wellesley Hospital. My two roommates came to visit me, along with my parents. One of them, an athletic training major, detailing me what happened during my seizure. I appreciated them being there to visit, but internally, I could not handle any more problems with my health. I played sports, thinking it would keep me healthy, but why is my body breaking down at a young age?
My academic work and club leadership role began to deteriorate in the fall. Academically, I had a difficult time focusing on my class work and staying on top of assignments. Even though some would consider a 3.3 GPA awesome, as an Honors student, I felt like I let my family down.
For the Barry Price Club, I had a difficult time being present and struggled with the idea that I may be forced out of my leadership role. At the end of the semester, the writing was on the wall. In the meeting with the club’s advisor and other leaders, I felt like Eminem’s character at the beginning of 8 Mile. I was incoherent and could not manage to add anything meaningful to the future of the club.
Yet, I did my best to end the semester and temporarily forget about my hardships. I decided to do what 21+-year-old college students do to forget about their problems. At the time, there was a girl (21+) and wanted to go to the bar with her. Long story short, I drank enough “liquid confidence” and felt really good about myself for one night.
“Liquid confidence” is only good for a short period and reality struck. The girl I thought I liked, did not like me back, saying she was not ready. Once again, my fragile psyche led me to doubt myself more than usual. In fairness to her, I found out that I was nowhere close to being ready for a relationship. How can I take care of another person when I cannot take care of myself?
The spring semester did not bring me much hope. I had run out of classes I needed to take and started choosing random classes. There was only one class, sport information & communication, I looked forward to attending, and I performed well. However, I despised photojournalism (I still do not know why I picked it) and the grade represented my attitude toward it.
One event during the spring semester, in particular, set me off into a dark place I am still recovering from. On an early morning, my dad brought me to Mass. General to have an MRI done on my heart. After the completion of the MRI, I was ready to head back to school and attend my morning class. However, I must have panicked because my head started spinning and down I went in the lobby of Mass. General. Another seizure in about four months.
After a seizure or any time I collapsed, the doctors told me I would have to go six months without driving. If I were to drive again, the soonest I could drive would be in August. I would have to wait over a full year since the last time I drove a car.
I figured I experienced enough; I do not need anything added to my declining mental health. Weeks later, a family friend and one of the most influential people in Gardner soccer passed away. My mom and I cried a lot, trying to remember her for all of her positive contributions. When I went to her wake, I walked passed an open casket, laying at peace inside her coffin. I did my best to hold it in at the wake, but afterwards I lost it.
With all the shit I had been through, I thought it was necessary to speak to a counselor. The school counselor helped me talk about things openly and express my thought process. Even though counseling helped get things off my chest, I secluded myself from people at school, constantly thinking I was not good enough for anyone.
The spring semester of junior year could not have ended any faster. My grades and my self-esteem reached an all-time low. After a long, drama-filled process, I chose to live in a room just for myself. I did not have an internship and had no idea where I would find one before graduation. Most of the friendships/relationships with people I built at Lasell, my seclusion tore them down.
The only positive I could draw out of junior year was being able to go to a lot of Boston Celtics games. There is truth in the idea sports provided an escape from my problems. Whether alone or with friends, watching the Celtics made me feel whole.
However, the escape is only for one game. Once the game ends, reality hits back. Jaylen Brown of the Celtics was right when he said without sports, people would be upset with their place in society. The day after a game, my self-loathing continued and I wondered if I could ever do something positive with my life.