Best and Worst

 

Since I'm writing one of the first best and worst blog posts, I thought I would start by being brutally honest in the hopes that everyone else will feel comfortable sharing whatever is on their mind. For me, coming back to school has been incredibly difficult. Navigating campus in a wheelchair is a nightmare. The sidewalks are bumpy, the ramps aren't smooth nor logically placed, and finding the one accessible door in the ancient buildings is time-consuming and annoying. Of course my dorm is across campus from most of my classes, making the commute to class arduous. I stick out going down the sidewalk and sitting in my classes. In fact, in my economics class, when the teacher asked the class for a volunteer to take notes for another student, all eyes in the room seemed to hone in on me though he wasn't even asking on my behalf. Learning to use the adaptive software so I can speak to my computer has been incredibly vexing. A great deal of the time Dragon, the software, doesn't understand me or doesn't listen to me or just freezes with no explanation. I can't count the number of times I've wanted to commit violent acts against my computer. Something that used to take me 30 minutes to type now takes me 2 to 3 hours. I find myself feeling aggravated while also feeling a little hopeless that the situation will ever get better. I knew coming back to school was going to be a huge adjustment, but I don't think I was ready for just how big that adjustment was going to be.

 

But as difficult as all the above is, the hardest part of being back on campus is the memories. The six weeks I spent at UT last year were some of the happiest weeks I've ever experienced. I loved walking across campus while surreptitiously glancing at my phone map trying to locate my classes and going to meet up with my friends for dinner and staying in on Friday night to have movie night where we ate way too much junk food. I loved running the campus in the evenings even though I hate running and playing Cards Against Humanity where we offended practically everybody and getting lost while trying to find my way around a whole new city. Most of all, I loved the freedom of my new college life. I got up early every morning to go ride my bike for at least two hours before I would rush home to shower to make it to class after which I would hang out with my friends and get my homework done and stay up way too late before waking up early to do it all over again. I had just started making inroads into the clubs I wanted to join, most notably the cycling club where I finally found people as crazy about cycling as I was. Now, every time I walk down Whitis Avenue heading towards the sixpack, I remember walking down that sidewalk with my earbuds in listening to "Classic" by MKTO as I rushed to make it to world literature on time. As I drive past Gregory gym, I remember how I used to meet the other members of the cycling team there before our team rides on Sundays and how the older guys always grabbed on to the poles to balance themselves on their bikes because God forbid they have to put a foot on the ground. Every place on campus sparks some kind of memory from when I was here last year. And it hurts. I'm reminded of how it used to be and how it can never be again.

 

Though I can't say the past week has had many ups, there were some. I enjoyed getting to see my friends from last year and hearing about all their adventures after I'd left. I also didn't have to go to class on Monday or Friday making my week a three-day week. And only having nine hours is actually pretty awesome because it leaves me plenty of extra free time – though most of it is spent trying to figure out my infuriating computer. Plus, being back in Austin means I get to eat great food again, which is always fantastic.

 

Overall, coming back to school has been a huge trial. I have been wrong through the emotional gamut. Though I have accepted my situation and think I'm realistic about the next four years, I've still felt the impatience and frustration inherent in making such a big adjustment, the sorrow of realizing things have irrevocably changed, and the resignation that this is where I am now and I just have to move forward.