Mary Oliver, from Long Life: Essays And Other Writings originally published in 2004
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Oh hey look at that I remembered a story long enough to write it out again!
Ok so this one is yet another “trauma response created by high school”. In particular, why I’m stupid early to most things.
It’s something of a joke at my work where my coworkers will say “hey I got here after 0630 and you weren’t here yet what happened?” because everyone knows I’m usually an hour early and well they aren’t wrong—if I arrive after 0630 it’s because something did happen.
I always kind of joke that it’s trauma from high school, but it’s not actually a joke. It was an early college high school meaning I was enrolled in community college courses at the same time as high school courses as part of the program rather than of my own volition and dime. As such it was also college preparatory, ensuring we’d have the best shot of continuing on to and graduating from a 4-year university. I just want to take a moment to say that actual 4-year university was so much more chill than community college—which in turn was actually also still less high strung than my high school teachers.
So what caused this trauma response where I arrive far too early to everything and still to this day have nightmares about being late that can and have caused me to shoot awake so forcefully that I get sick?
My high school teachers drilled into us—the students—“early is on time, on time is late”. Ok nice words whatever how did they burn those words into my psyche? Most of the teachers would lock their doors five minutes before class would start and wouldn’t unlock them until ten minutes past. Meaning we’d get marked as either tardy or absent depending on the teacher. And because we had to come and go from the high school campus for the college classes, each high school class took attendance just for that class and that period. So being absent from any class was treated like being absent for a full day of classes or—as the office personnel put it—if you miss one period it’s like you missed a week or two of that one class.
High school provided me with an awful lot of trauma that unfortunately tends to react to each other. So when I bring up one memory as an explanation I also bring up memories of what exasperated it—like that time in Junior year when I missed an entire month of one specific class because I was constantly sick, which led to me refusing to leave from the whole sip of Rockstar incident. I dealt with my worsening car anxiety because it would take 2-3 hours to walk to school (and of course that was also made worse on a day I got pulled out early for an appointment to address it—only to then get in another car accident at the corner of the campus and have to cancel said appointment).
Ok well I have to be early because early is on time and on time is late but why would I wait outside for half an hour for my primary building in university to unlock only to then wait an hour before either having class or for the club room to be unlocked? Why do I get to work an hour early just to wait in the break room while the previous shift is still actively working? To the first my excuse was always that I’m really not a morning person and I am completely incoherent for several hours into the start of my day so if I wanted to be cognizant and make any sense then I had to be awake and at that place long before I ever had to address another person. To the second—when I first started working out here (it’s an hour commute and I cross county lines) there was extremely bizarre weather, and highly unusual police activity. Sometimes the delay would result in an extra hour being added to the drive. So I give myself that leeway and now I’m used to being an hour early and freak out when I’m not as early.
So ya high school is at fault for why I am stupid early to most things.
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the miracle of being here
invitation, mary oliver// @arthoesunshine // when death comes, mary oliver//to be alive, gregory ott// the dead poets society(1989), quote: walden, henry david thoreau// joseph campbell// the aeneid, virgil// @babyangel-jpg // @rawjoy //sweet, charles bukowski// that it will never come again, emily dickinson// bjenny montero// ? // ? // moments, mary oliver// madness a bipolar life, marya hornbacher// wild geese, mary oliver// letters to a young poet, rainer maria rilke// on earth we're briefly gorgeous, ocean vuong// @ashstfu // i thought on his desire for three days, linda gregg
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Nobody looks good in their darkest hours. But it’s those hours that make us what we are.
Karen Marie Moning, Faefever
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