If there’s one thing that never fails to shock me, it’s how differently I’m treated by people outside my family compared to how I’m treated by my actual family members.
The director of the college got back to me about my email. Not only was he sympathetic, but he completely agreed I should wait until things are settled and I feel better to start school. I saved that email just because his compassion meant so much.
My school clinician also sympathized. In fact, when I said how stressed I was feeling and wanted nothing more than to leave, she went as far as to ask me if there was sexual abuse going on (probably due to my reluctance to talk about it). While it’s part of her job (and she’s a mandated reporter), she could’ve also told me I was being dramatic. But she didn’t. She also agreed I should start school later if it meant I’d be healthier. She warned me of putting it off for too long, but still understood me.
I know not everyone I cross paths with will be kind to me and I don’t expect it. At the same time, however, I find it odd and a little sad that I get more compassion from people who have only known me a short time than people who have known me since infancy.