Yesterday, I wrote my last exam for the term. It is officially “Summer” for me. I should be thrilled, right? Or at least relieved. I am neither of these things.
I am no longer anxious about school, but I now have much more to worry about. Firstly, I will be moving back in with my dad for the months of May and June, a situation which hasn’t been great for my mental health in the past. I am dreading the loss of independence and the constant hyper vigilance I will feel living in a place that doesn’t feel emotionally safe.
Next, I need to get a full-time job this Summer, and I have yet to find one. I have sent out dozens of applications, leading me to believe that I am fundamentally undesirable as a candidate for employment. I have hardly paid any of my tuition for the previous school year, and I need to balance my student account before I can register for Fall classes. I need to make enough money to pay off $4700 in tuition, plus pay rent in July and August. Asking my parents for money is an option, but it is an absolute last resort. My mom was not happy when I quit my part-time job in October to focus on school and my mental health, and I do not want that decision to be thrown in my face.
Ironically, while the prospect of not finding a job is terrifying, so is the idea of finding one is just as scary. Working makes me incredibly anxious. I worry about whether I am doing a good job, whether my coworkers like me, what clients/customers think of me, and how long I will be able to cope. Anticipating a Summer of feeling this way makes my heart race. I hate it so much.
So I am on Summer “break”, and while my classmates and roommates seem ecstatic, I am filled with dread. As much as I love the warm weather and bright evenings that lie ahead, I already miss the security and predictability of the school year. September can’t come soon enough.