I feel like I understand more and more every day.
I failed a major exam today. It was a huge chunk of my overall grade and I got a zero. The exam was a simulation of RT practice. I had another classmate as my "patient" and did the whole routine with them, minus the actual x-ray exposure. But because I forgot to change out the cassettes between images, it was considered a double exposure and therefore an automatic zero.
My instructor asked me to stay because she wanted to have an "honest conversation" with me. She basically told me I wasn't good for RT and that I should look at other options...
It was very reminiscent of all the times I have been turned away by women I had shown interest in. They would always say that I should talk to someone else and leave them alone. It felt like the same thing here. --That I should go and do something else because I'm not good enough.
If it had been only that one simple mistake, I don't think she would have said that to me. I think I annoy my classmates. I feel like they don't want me there, and neither does my instructor. I feel that way everywhere I go, and the moment I start to think otherwise, reality slaps me back into place.
But just like relationships, what is to say I would not be having that exact same conversation had I already been chosen a different career path?
I told her that there were no other options. She didn't understand. She said that I should find something I would be good at and that I enjoyed. I told her there was no such thing, because honestly, there isn't. I tolerate what I'm doing now fine enough. The idea of starting completely over with something new and equally risky is absurd to me. Quitting this program and "going somewhere else" is basically equivalent" to "go back to working at Wal-Mart, trash."
That has always been in the back of my mind-- what could happen if I failed the program I'm in. It would mean going back to what I did before. It would mean working however many hours are assigned to me for just enough money to afford living with roomates and daily ramen noodles and doing work that I WILL NOT tolerate any longer. It would mean a dead end, with no chance of ever being anything else.
It was then that I realized why I often think and talk about killing myself. --and why there are so many people who have actually done that. It's because there are so many circumstances that are worse than death.
Being used by Wal-Mart all your life as a wage slave ***** is worse than being dead, just like being married to someone for no reason other than it's convenient for them to have a free house maid and babysitter is worse than death.
--and if I can't become anything more than a wage slave, then I will never have the attention of anyone else. Yet I'm still alive-- because everything that would make life livable is dangled in my face, just out of my reach. Always.
I keep thinking about the Trix Rabbit analogy. How he is obsessed with getting to eat the cereal that everyone else gets to eat, but whenever he gets close, it gets snatched away from him. "Silly Rabbit. These aren't for you." Here are your carrots that you eat every day. Now eat so you can sustain your life and live to suffer another day.
Wal-Mart is my ****** bag of carrots, because I can apply for thousands of positions where help is wanted but they are always the only ones who call. My wife is my ****** bag of carrots, because she is the only one who has ever had a use for someone like me. Cold, dry, bitter, lifeless carrots.
I think of how a typical rabbit lives. In a cage or hutch. Probably a gift for a child on Easter, who was happy to receive it for all of 20 minutes before the novelty wore away. Now an inconvenience. It would be cruel to let the rabbit starve to death, but feeding him is an afterthought. He just sits in his cage all day, forgotten. Ignored. Unwanted.
--and there is the big key word and underlying theme. Unwanted. I don't want to talk to you, find someone else. We don't want you on our team. Go somewhere else. I know this word is important because in just typing this last paragraph I am filled with a unique sort of pain, like I am touching a very sensitive nerve and pressing my thumb into it, hard.
What people never realize is, I don't have someone "else" to go talk to. I don't have anywhere "else" to go to. There isn't some magical person somewhere that would react differently. There is no career path that is looking for ugly, awkward, autistic men. They just as well be saying "go somewhere and die."
I'm still alive because I don't want to die. I want to solidify all of the good things I fantasize about-- more than anything else. So all this time I have lived a life that is worse than being dead because I keep tricking myself into thinking there's a chance-- that I might escape from this cage and live among other rabbits, and be loved, and wanted. If I fail this class, however, it won't matter how much I want to keep trying. I will no longer have that choice.
Kuwoobie will die crushed under the burden of his mediocrity.