Because of the topsy-turvy way I did things, college was
all about grades--no thoughts of partying whatsoever.
I left home at 16, after two years of blowing off school. Long story how this A-student, lifelong honor roll member, and Ms Goody Two Shoes came to do that, but I did. Like everything I do, it was deliberate and done with complete awareness of its ramifications.
Using drugs was a daily thing--another conscious choice I didn't regret then and don't regret now. Contrary to the horror stories being perpetuated by old people [as in, over 30], my drug experiences were amazing. I had the best times ever during that time period, and have nothing but good, happy memories.
But I think I'm blessed genetically: I have ZERO predisposition to addiction of any kind. At 16 I stopped
everything at once: smoking cigarettes, smoking pot, and taking a cornucopia of much more serious drugs. [I was never into alcohol.] Just said 'that was fun, been there, done that, time to move on.' Never looked back--much like going vegetarian in 1988.
My husband and I met right after I turned 17. It quickly became serious; we got married a few months later. Some of you know this already: my mom refused to sign the parental consent form. She took exception to her minor daughter marrying a guy seven years older.
We were in Florida by then [hubby's home state]. I had my best friend pay Mom a visit [here, in Arcadia], telling her "if you don't sign, she'll get pregnant and go before a judge to be declared emancipated!' Mom signed.
Our daughter was conceived the next year. As luck would have it, my first serious [actually, near-fatal] illness would strike soon. By 22 I'd spent months in hospitals, had numerous operations and procedures, had emergency surgery and multiple blood transfusions to save my life, and ended up minus my uterus and both ovaries. We spent the next few years trying to recover, in many ways, from that.
By the time I decided to go to college, our daughter was well-established in school and our finances allowed us to keep the utilities on again, so it seemed like a good time. I was 26--and hadn't been in a classroom in 10 years.
I started at a community college; I was admitted on a probationary basis, since I had no high school diploma/GED or my SAT scores. After my first [4.0] semester, probation was lifted.
I worked my ass off! All I'd ever intended to be was a physician. Now, at 26, I felt HUGELY out of place [with hindsight, I've realized how ridiculous that was], and didn't feel that I could slip up one bit. I
had to make the best grades, in every class I took. I didn't want to lose out on medical school to some young whippersnapper with better grades! After transferring to 4-year university, I was invited to, and did, join an honor society only open to those in the top 10% of all the university's juniors and seniors. Working my butt off instead of partying worked out well.
So when there were trips to museums and there were statues and paintings of the human form with nary a fig leaf in sight, all the other kids were blushes and giggles and I shrugged my shoulders and said "what?" There wasn't anything sexual about it. And if you were to ask a gynecologist or urologist, the last thing they would tell you is that poking around in other people's junk is arousing.
