The College Dream, Avenger

Back in my day, going to a four-year university was a noble achievement. It was a commitment not only to one’s self to learn and achieve things most wouldn’t, it was also the realization that most of those hundreds of dollar classes were basically story time for topics and methods you won’t ever use in life.

Personally, I didn’t care. I decided, as a 15-year-old midwestern girl, that I was going to college. I didn’t care if my family was at the bottom of the lower middle class, or if no one in my family ever stepped foot on an establishment of higher learning, I was going to college!

I was told college was expensive, but I heard there were loans and when I mentioned to friends and family that I wanted to go, their reactions were of joy and respect. I put this pretty little idea into my dreams and let it simmer. I didn’t know at the time, but I was what they would call an expert manifestor.

My mother caught wind of the idea and said “absolutely not”. I turned away from her as any properly socialized and somewhat polite teenage would do and said “fuck you” under my breath. I wanted out of the Midwest and my guardian angels told me that this was my chance.

I was a student at Park Center High School in Brooklyn Park, Minnesota at the time. There were career classes and lectures about college admissions. I followed their advice and looked at potential colleges, deciding on The University of Central Florida. I took the ACT, applied to UCF and the ball was rolling. I had a backup college that I was entirely not interested in because that college was not located in a warm, sunny, far away school with every activity and experience that I have ever dreamed of participating in.

Envelopes from UCF were regularly delivered to my mailbox and the desire for this experience kept building. I decided that I would go to cosmetology school to become a nail technician at night and on weekends so that I could have a decent job in college. Cosmetology school was located in an old bowling alley in a strip mall in Crystal, Minnesota. I don’t know if it was the chemicals in the fake nails or the ghosts from the old bowling days, but I was having a great time. I was busy and out of my parent’s way and my manifestation just kept aligning.

I counted down the days to going to college harder than any paper ring making, advent calendar loving child ever did to get through the long winter days until Christmas. The day I received a brochure about joining a sorority, I was like “what, there’s more?”. I decided right in that moment that I would absolutely be adding that to my college experience.

The first two years of college were a dream. I felt like a girl in a movie. I was a sweet, long haired young lady with big brown eyes and a tan that was catching up to my Floridian classmates. I worked hard, had a bunch of friends and never got bored. By the third year of college, I was working at a spa at Walt Disney World and balancing upper-level classes.

I drank and partied less as the adult responsibilities crept into my life. I was living in a very cool rented house with a fantastic roommate. My outside world looked awesome, but my inner world was crashing. I was exhausted and couldn’t sleep at night. I didn’t know what a therapist was or that I should have seen one. I pushed myself to get through the last year of college because I knew damn well that I was the one who was going to have to pay off all of those loans. It was during that experience when I decided to go to massage school. This was well before the days of “spirited child”, “highly sensitive person” and “empath” were common terms and most people were very confused as to why I just graduated college and didn’t want to commit my life to a 50 hour a week desk job.

Of course, I decided to congratulate myself on being the first in my family to graduate with a brand-new silver Dodge Avenger. It was a dream car and a dream life, with an unexpected twist. I started massage school and quickly realized that this was much easier than college and I was going to get a massage every day.

So off she went each morning, dressing in white scrubs, rolling into the Florida College of Natural Health parking lot in her brand new car with loud music blaring and her future unknown.