Only I Will Remain: An About Me
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I am Savannah West, a non-traditional student attending Linn-Benton Community College in Albany, Oregon, majoring in Anthropology and Journalism.
This whole year has felt like a whirlwind. I decided to enroll in my local community college because I had hit rock bottom with my illness and needed a big change, or else I feared the worst. I have CPTSD and also suffer from other psychological illnesses shaped by trauma and less-than-remarkable parenting.
This whole year has felt like a whirlwind. I decided to enroll in my local community college because I had hit rock bottom with my illness and needed a big change, or else I feared the worst. I have CPTSD and also suffer from other psychological illnesses shaped by trauma and less-than-remarkable parenting.
I had been almost completely agoraphobic, unable to go get a glass of watering my own apartment at this time last year. Now, I am a contributor for The Commuter, LBCC's award-winning publication, one of two incoming Legislative Affairs Directors for the Student Leadership Council, LBCC's student government team, a tutor for multiple subjects, including Anthropology, and am taking two to three classes per term.
It has been so many things, a fever dream, a blessing, a roller-coaster, a carnival fun-house. Enrolling at LBCC and slowly forcing myself to participate, and not just go to class and run home, or take all online classes and never go to campus (that was what I had originally intended to do).
This weekend I attended the leadership training retreat. I went alone, without my loving partner, who also moonlights as my medical aide. The training was scheduled from 9 a.m. to
4 p.m., a time frame I knew I'd never last through. Even pushing myself to participate, I generally have a physical/mental limit of three, maybe four hours. My partner was on call, available to text, video chat, or come join me in person the whole time. But I did no have to lean on him this Saturday. I called during our first break to check in, but mostly stood in the sun and decompressed. I was engaged, I participated, and I even leaned into small talk with some of my peers.
Around lunch time, the internal alert system in my body started signaling that I was not going to make it much longer, and if I had not listened to those alarms, the headache that came with them made it clear that I was reaching my daily limit.
I try not to focus on the fact that I had to leave early, but rather on that I woke up early and got there on time, that I actively participated, that I was able to leave my partner at home, and that I recognized my limits and communicated to the right people when I knew I needed to depart.
Being disabled is difficult. You have limits others don't always recognize or understand, and you have to miss out on some experiences or events, or you have to experience them differently, which can be difficult to come to terms with.
I try to focus every day on the things I can do, and not the things I can't. To take away each positive step instead of looking at how far I have to go or how much sooner others may be getting there.
Some days I can feel the rumination bubbling up to the surface, all the barriers, all the fear, all the
missed opportunities. Staying positive all the time is hard. It is okay to feel disappointment, frustration, loss, betrayal, hurt, fear, and anger. But not letting them take over your life is the key to growth and forward progress.
When the moments get really tough (as they often do), I like to make a nice hot cuppa tea (really tune into the heat from the cup, and the scent from the steam) and recite a well-known passage from Dune that has gotten me through some of my darkest moments.
I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.
I hope anyone reading this can take something away from my experience and remember that even in fear, you are still the one who remains.
This weekend I attended the leadership training retreat. I went alone, without my loving partner, who also moonlights as my medical aide. The training was scheduled from 9 a.m. to
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Around lunch time, the internal alert system in my body started signaling that I was not going to make it much longer, and if I had not listened to those alarms, the headache that came with them made it clear that I was reaching my daily limit.
I try not to focus on the fact that I had to leave early, but rather on that I woke up early and got there on time, that I actively participated, that I was able to leave my partner at home, and that I recognized my limits and communicated to the right people when I knew I needed to depart.
Being disabled is difficult. You have limits others don't always recognize or understand, and you have to miss out on some experiences or events, or you have to experience them differently, which can be difficult to come to terms with.
I try to focus every day on the things I can do, and not the things I can't. To take away each positive step instead of looking at how far I have to go or how much sooner others may be getting there.
Some days I can feel the rumination bubbling up to the surface, all the barriers, all the fear, all the
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| Suffering from Anxiety Designed by Freepik www.freepik.com |
When the moments get really tough (as they often do), I like to make a nice hot cuppa tea (really tune into the heat from the cup, and the scent from the steam) and recite a well-known passage from Dune that has gotten me through some of my darkest moments.
I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.
I hope anyone reading this can take something away from my experience and remember that even in fear, you are still the one who remains.
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