ancient history, man
Dec. 16th, 2019 11:03 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jazzfishSome guy on Twitter asks What would you tell yourself at 18, 21, and 25 respectively?
This is surprisingly easy.
18: Make friends with Justin W--, he's a good guy.
Justin remains, I think, my biggest regret from high school. We were friends but never as close as I think either of us would have liked, and I at least couldn't figure out how to navigate that. (It didn't help that he was also good friends with my ex-best-friend.) We bonded over Muppets and Terry Pratchett's Bromeliad (he's the friend who would greet me with "I am alive and so are you"), and at his birthday party one year I played my first game of Illuminati, which I guess would be the first modern boardgame I ever played. And then I lost track of him almost immediately upon graduation. Ran into him again at the ten-year reunion and had that exact same dance of "I think you're pretty neat and have no idea where to go from there." Near as I can tell he's not on social media of any kind. Ah well.
Eighteen would be my senior year in high school, and there's not really much other advice I can give to senior-year Tucker. I was damaged and burnt out after junior year. I spent much of grade twelve in head-down survival mode, just trying to make it through until college. Which I did, more or less, so yay.
21: You’re still burnt out. Next year, take classes part-time.
In the eight months before my twenty-first birthday I'd: hooked up with Emily instead of killing myself; washed out of college for the first time; and walked out on my parents and taken a job working fast-food down in Blacksburg rather than live with them and "recover." By twenty-one I was still badly burnt out, from high school and then from trying to do college while also trying to figure out who I was as a person. I then spent a year off from school, before attempting to take classes full-time while also working full-time. This ... did not go well. When I next went back to school, it was explicitly part-time for the first year or two, and that worked much better.
It's an interesting thought as to how going back only part-time the first time would have worked out for me. It's not like it could have gone any worse, after all. If I'd just said "I don't have the money to handle more than one or two classes at a time" (I wasn't able to say "I can't handle more than one or two classes at a time"), if I'd taken it more slowly.
25: You are more burnt-out and your partner is depressed which is why she’s no help, you have insurance, get therapy.
This... this is quite possibly the most significant hinge-point in my life. At twenty-five I'd just started taking classes part-time, and was on the verge of getting fired from my second job at a crappy small software company. Meanwhile, Emily had been fired from her first post-college job a few months before, for reasons that are still unclear to me (and maybe to her). She went to work at Waldenbooks, where I'd join her in several months. She was depressed, and wasn't talking about it, and I felt like I had to keep her afloat, with minimal support myself.
If only. If only I'd admitted to myself that I was in a bad place. If only I'd had someone I could talk to for support. If only I'd tried to get counseling then, before I blew up my relationship a year later. If only. I'd still run into the same problem I did when I finally got counseling, of Anthem (hereinafter "those pig****ers") retroactively denying me coverage due to preexisting treatment for depression, but ... it could have been better, so much sooner.
I have no idea where I'd be now, if I'd gone back to school part-time or if I'd gotten counseling sooner. It's a dramatic enough change that I can't even begin to game it out. I think I still end up in Canada, and a big leftie? I most likely still split up with Emily at some point, and quite possibly much sooner because she's not getting any help. But I'd have a three-year head start on actually finishing college, and who knows how much of a head start on sorting out my brain.
Water under the bridge, but still neat to look back at occasionally.
This is surprisingly easy.
18: Make friends with Justin W--, he's a good guy.
Justin remains, I think, my biggest regret from high school. We were friends but never as close as I think either of us would have liked, and I at least couldn't figure out how to navigate that. (It didn't help that he was also good friends with my ex-best-friend.) We bonded over Muppets and Terry Pratchett's Bromeliad (he's the friend who would greet me with "I am alive and so are you"), and at his birthday party one year I played my first game of Illuminati, which I guess would be the first modern boardgame I ever played. And then I lost track of him almost immediately upon graduation. Ran into him again at the ten-year reunion and had that exact same dance of "I think you're pretty neat and have no idea where to go from there." Near as I can tell he's not on social media of any kind. Ah well.
Eighteen would be my senior year in high school, and there's not really much other advice I can give to senior-year Tucker. I was damaged and burnt out after junior year. I spent much of grade twelve in head-down survival mode, just trying to make it through until college. Which I did, more or less, so yay.
21: You’re still burnt out. Next year, take classes part-time.
In the eight months before my twenty-first birthday I'd: hooked up with Emily instead of killing myself; washed out of college for the first time; and walked out on my parents and taken a job working fast-food down in Blacksburg rather than live with them and "recover." By twenty-one I was still badly burnt out, from high school and then from trying to do college while also trying to figure out who I was as a person. I then spent a year off from school, before attempting to take classes full-time while also working full-time. This ... did not go well. When I next went back to school, it was explicitly part-time for the first year or two, and that worked much better.
It's an interesting thought as to how going back only part-time the first time would have worked out for me. It's not like it could have gone any worse, after all. If I'd just said "I don't have the money to handle more than one or two classes at a time" (I wasn't able to say "I can't handle more than one or two classes at a time"), if I'd taken it more slowly.
25: You are more burnt-out and your partner is depressed which is why she’s no help, you have insurance, get therapy.
This... this is quite possibly the most significant hinge-point in my life. At twenty-five I'd just started taking classes part-time, and was on the verge of getting fired from my second job at a crappy small software company. Meanwhile, Emily had been fired from her first post-college job a few months before, for reasons that are still unclear to me (and maybe to her). She went to work at Waldenbooks, where I'd join her in several months. She was depressed, and wasn't talking about it, and I felt like I had to keep her afloat, with minimal support myself.
If only. If only I'd admitted to myself that I was in a bad place. If only I'd had someone I could talk to for support. If only I'd tried to get counseling then, before I blew up my relationship a year later. If only. I'd still run into the same problem I did when I finally got counseling, of Anthem (hereinafter "those pig****ers") retroactively denying me coverage due to preexisting treatment for depression, but ... it could have been better, so much sooner.
I have no idea where I'd be now, if I'd gone back to school part-time or if I'd gotten counseling sooner. It's a dramatic enough change that I can't even begin to game it out. I think I still end up in Canada, and a big leftie? I most likely still split up with Emily at some point, and quite possibly much sooner because she's not getting any help. But I'd have a three-year head start on actually finishing college, and who knows how much of a head start on sorting out my brain.
Water under the bridge, but still neat to look back at occasionally.
no subject
Date: 2019-12-18 06:57 pm (UTC)If someone had paid for a year of weekly counseling I could have saved ten years of my life sorting it out myself. Maybe... if someone had told me not all counselors were awful and walked me to the UBC counseling office, and if they had offered long-term counseling at that point, and if I could have found a good counselor there, well, maybe I'd have that ten years without someone being willing to front all that money.
I suspect I'd be right back here, forestry out in the fringes, but maybe thirteen years into the career rather than 3.
I'm glad you're here with me though.