The Summer Fog
When I woke up Sunday morning, I realized that it was noon. Half of my day gone, and the only thing I could think of was I need to finalize the college road trip, I need to send out that camp email, I need to finish the Gandhi reading, I need to choose a book to bring with me. I need I need I need. After school got out Thursday, June 6, senior fall just hit me hard. The upcoming school year has already haunted my summer from being a time of leisure to a time of getting ahead. On top of the “I needs,” I also have the “I still needs.” I still need to study for the SATs, I still, to my dismay, need to finalize the college road trip, I still need to ask my college counselor scholarship questions, I still need to start training for field hockey season. The list goes on and on, and that has been the mental state of my brain for the past 10 days. The incomplete list distracts me, and it’s probably one of the reasons why I had a hard time falling asleep on the plane ride. While it seems like I’m leaving it all behind, in reality it has just caused me anxiety.
Last week, I isolated myself from my social life and just did college research and other educational things. When I arrived at the airport, I didn’t feel present, and to be honest, I asked myself, “Wait, how do I talk to people again?” It was a weird feeling to be around people, and for some reason, I felt socially inept. Unfortunately, that didn’t help the anxiety that was already present. This college process has made me even more stressed than I usually am, and I have been extremely nervous about everything. And I mean, everything. When my mom and I were out finding sandals for the trip, I was getting frustrated and just started crying. Embarrassingly, I wiped away the tears that were stampeding down my cheeks, and just said “I’m just frustrated, Mom. Really frustrated.” While that was a good emotional release, and I felt better afterwards (sort-of), taking off on the plane was the worst. I couldn’t get the image out of my mind that we were going to be the plane that was going to be hijacked. That we were going to end up in the middle of the ocean. That we weren’t going to see our families again. I stared out the window, thinking I was in a movie and the camera was zoomed in on my profile. This was it, this was the goodbye, the insufficient goodbye to my mother that was only through a gaze out the window. Thankfully, my drowsiness got the better of me, and I started to forget about that. Instead, I started thinking about the upcoming field hockey camp. Which wasn’t exactly a great leap out of the room of anxiety, but it was a step towards the exit.