#cornellclassof2012

[vizthedatum]

This was my outfit yesterday! I feel very self-conscious about this aspect of myself. Going to Cornell was not easy, and it makes people both under- and overestimate me. I absolutely hate it. But also, it has really helped me so much and I acknowledge the privilege.

In 9th grade, I told my plaver (<7 always) that I wanted to go to Cornell… my parents wanted me to go college, preferably a top tier one. We were lower middle-class at best because of poor money management, unstable mental health, and the challenge of cultural assimilation into a new country (something ny parents still have trouble with (not judging)). Money was always tight and especially after my brother was born and especially when my dad had a stroke in high school.

So I was trained by my mother to push myself to excel in every subject, even if I didn’t like it.

I did ok. I did enough to get me into Cornell but I had a hard time internalizing much of the knowledge I accrued or forced in my brain. Often, I felt like I couldn’t understand why I knew something - I just knew it because I had to know it.

I had constant anxiety and SI. In addition to several undiagnosed and unmanaged chronic pain issues. And crippling depression (my parents asserted that if anyone found out I was depressed or sought mental health care then I would not get into college… or even have friends).

I got into Cornell in my senior year (lol I guess this is the timeline) and I was incredibly sick. My trauma was catching up to me. My hs ex was incredibly abusive. My parents, even more so. There was *something* going on with my brother but no one listened to me, and I’m still mad about that. I wish he had gotten into treatment sooner.

I missed more than half the days of my senior year in high school. I had migraines, extreme pelvic pain, and… near crippling fear/anxiety/depression. And most doctors didn’t really believe me. My school? Wayzata High School?? Well on behalf of the now-politician, Ginny Klevorn, white suburban mom™️ extraordinaire INSISTED that I needed consequences (despite me basically making up all my homework and exams) … so they gave me straight Fs for one of the quarters in high school. But they did make my parents take me to therapy until I graduated - too bad that my first therapist was also abusive and was later fired.

I was furious.

I worked my ass off to my detriment to attempt to do as well as my other over-achieving peers. I definitely wasn’t learning - I swear that I didn’t know what I was doing half of the time. I didn’t have a lot of money or resources either - we just got creative most of the time. I just had to get good grades and do a million extracurriculars and volunteer and learn how to drive and come up with excuses about my behavior and play the violin and deal with abuse and pain. I was definitely not the best student but it was good enough. Four Fs would ruin all that though.

I got in anyway because I incorporated it (and my immigrant upbringing - I think that was the trend back then, oof) into my essays… I got a sizable financial aid package. And I visited and accepted.

And then I went and was so severely depressed and in bladder pain the whole time that I ended up with a 2.99 GPA, more trauma, maladaptive behaviors, no idea what I wanted to do in my life but applied to UMich’s MPH program on a whim and someone took a chance on me. And the Cornell degree.

I did work hard but… Cornell was traumatic. It’s really not ok that we are known for suicides and general bleakness. The “easiest Ivy to get into, hardest one to get out of” or whatever? Fuck that - I saw grown adults crying or majorly stressed out because they might be put on probation or cast out of the engineering degrees. Or the level of absolute corporal punishment of students using the answer manual to finish homework and then they all had to go to a hearing?? And you could have some permanent mark on your record? Wtf? Do you remember that? It was a witch hunt and also extremely unreasonable. I felt like I and so many other people I knew were constantly on edge.

My urologist in Ithaca also FUCKING SUCKED. He did this weird procedure trying to literally stretch out my urethra with rods… and I got so much worse. He slut-shamed me constantly. He was the only specialist in the area - and not specialist in my conditions. I think I was his only regular AFAB patient!

And I got my first back hernia at Cornell.

And a devastating friendship breakup that I will never truly understand. I was so lonely for a while.

But the wines class was good.

I met amazing people there, and I’ve had unforgettable experiences. My best friends were from there. I did learn how much I couldn’t learn, and I taught myself how and did really well in grad school.

And now it helps in job interviews and stuff. And makes people (read: me) think I’m elitist. Yay.

And yeah - I think college and then ending up with 5 degrees is one hell of a trauma response.