[Cybunny's Blog]

This is my first Blog entrie on the site.

I don't know for sure what are blogs used for here, or how other people use them.

But I feel like I need to get this out of me.

This won't be a short Blog, if you're going to read I highly advice you have time, or read by parts.

I've tried to write it on an interesting way though, hope this helps the reading.

The thing is that you will become in the third person in this world to know about all this.

I've never told anyone about all what I've been living this last year, only my parents know.

I've been hiding all from my friends and the rest of the world.

After all, an unsuccessful suicide attempt isn't normal or an every day deal.

It all started last year, on July. I was studying Graphic Design on a very prestigious university here, which also happened to be one of the most difficult universities to enter to, and to keep on. On Design, there's a class which gives you the most credits, and which is the most important: Workshop might be the closest translation to english of the name. In this class, you apply all the knowledge you get from the other classes. It's the class you spend most of the time in the semester and that repeats itself every semester over and over with different teachers and ways of teaching.

I never got to make any true friends on that university, I was mostly alone to be honest. I had lunch alone and did group projects alone. This was ok with me, since I was going there to learn and get a degree, not make friend, right? So for me the most important thing was being a good student and learn from the teachers. And of course, the main and most important teacher was the one from Workshop.

I got pretty good grades on Workshop along the semester, my relationship with the teacher was pretty good and often he allowed me to write him e-mails to check on homework I was doing and what things to improve. The true is, that this teacher was very close with the students and I always felt that he liked my ideas. He was also the teacher of the Workshop for next semester, so I wanted to continue with him.

But things changed on the last day of Workshop.

My class and I were making an intervention inside a museum, I had to make my part of the intervention alone despites being in a group, since they end up making all the things for themselves and nothing for me. Even by making it alone, I got very great comments from the teacher and a great grade (like an A or 90% in english therms). Yet, the teacher approached me when I was taking something out of my backpack to clean the intervention. He told me he didn't wanted me on his class on next semester, that I wasn't the "kind of student" he expects to teach to and that I might be better on the other Workshop avaliable.

Needless to say, I was shocked. I had good grades and a good relation with him. And now, he was kicking me out of the class? I found out later that one of the reasons he kicked me out was for being so lonely. He thought I had poor social skills and he wanted a class that could make group projects.

I felt totally discriminated by the teacher and I felt to a deep depression.

I started to question my abilities as a designer. "I mean, the most important teacher kicked me out, that must mean I'm not good enough in what I do, right?" I didn't went to a single class the next semester. Some days I arrived to the bus station outside the university, and my anxiety attacks derived of the depression made me go all the way back to home, despites being right there, and miss classes again. I spent all my days on bed, lying to my parents and acting like I was going to classes. I was throwing their money away, I was feeding myself too much, I gained weight. "I've been more than 3 years on this university" - I used to think - "I've never failed any class, and now I'll fail everything, I'll get kicked out the university for not going, I'm a failure... and I don't deserve to be the daughter of my parents. I don't deserve to live". I spent 5 months this way.

Until I finally decided that the only escape was suicide.

I took more than 60 pills at 2pm, and after half an hour, all became black.

Darkness.

Hospital bed.

Darkness.

A known face talking to me.

Darkness.

The patterns on my mother's shirt moved like dancing.

Darkness.

And I woke up. It was 4 am of the next day. I was still on this world. There was a belt holding me tight to the bed, the windows of the hospital room were closed with plastic holders so they couldn't be opened, and I had several things connected all over me. I later found out my parents found me at 5pm and by then all the pills were already on my blood system, so it was useless to make any stomage cleansing. Now, nurses and doctors were hoping I didn't had any heart failure since if that happened, I would have needed a mayor blood transfusion, taking it all out and replacing it with new one.

After 4 days in the hospital, I got translated to a psiquiatric hospital, where I spent about a week.

By then, my parents knew all what had happened to me and started taking legal actions against the teacher for discrimination. The university started an investigation and told my parents to hold up since they would deal with the professor. My parents trusted the university and waited, taking care of me in the mid time.

I had to be with someone around always.

I couldn't be left alone since my psychiatrist told so. I felt like a kid once more...

Months passed by though, with the psichiatric help, psicologic help and my parents support I over-came my depression. I see the future with other eyes and I feel there's hope. And love. And things to live for.

But this wasn't over.

There was still the deal with the professor and the university.

And now, you'll know the reason why I decided to start writting this long blog.

Yesterday we (my parents and I) had a reunion with the dean of the university to know which was my current situation and the situation with the teacher, it's been 5 months since my suicide attempt and I got my medical clearence a month ago. He wanted to talk to us after I had the medical situation all sorted out. We thought it would be a one and one reunion on his office, but the secretary took us to a large reunion table. To the reunion, came the dean of the university, the rector of the design carreer, the secretary of social services and the secretary of admission.

It all started kind of normal, my parents asking mainly why the dean had taken so long to talk to us, and why he never even tried to talk to me, when on a letter he said he would talk to us after I was better. He said he wrote the letter too long ago and doesn't even remember what he said on it and that my current status was "kicked" out of the university for not writting the letter that people who fails certain number of classes have to write to keep being a student there. My parents started to get angry since the social services secretary told us I didn't had to write the letter for being this a very special situation in which the authorities would make an exception. But the dean totally refused it and said that he decided to not make exceptions with me and follow the rules of the university and apply them on my case.

So, now the dean started to talk about the teacher. He said that after the investigation, they didn't believe him of being guilty of discrimination against me, since the teacher prooved with e-mails (the mails I've sent him asking for advice and such, on the first semester of last year) that we had a good relation and that suppously makes the words he spoke to me at the museum, a good advice from his part and with good intentions, which wasn't the case. We told the dean that those mails happened before he flipped back at me and that they don't mean anything since they were just an strict student-teacher kind of mails about works, homeworks and class deals. But the thing is, they took that "evidence" against my word (of course, no evidence of the exact words he spoke to me back on the museum) and the "evidence won".

Then, the rector of the design carreer said that on the student's evaluation of that teacher, he has always had some of the highest rankings and is one of the best professors they have. And then my mother said: "So, you're going to let him keep teaching knowing what he has done? He almost KILLED my daughter" and the rector said "Is her word against the word of 30 students (rest of the class)" which my mother replied with a "So, you're going to wait for this to happen again so you have more evidence of his incompetence? Police doesn't wait for someone to kill 10 people before taking them to jail, it just takes one murder. Just one, to be a murderer, and that's what he is".

Both of my parents are teachers, so my mother told the dean of how could he be such a bad professional, backing up a professor that insulted and discriminated one of his best students just for being socially different. She then started to tell the people on the reunion, how would they react if it was their daughter? How couldn't they understand the situation we went through? That she would never get the image of me, passed out on the sofa, with dirt on my pijama after falling to the floor and crawling back inside on my drug-state after taking the pills. And it was all because of a teacher that didn't knew how to meassure his words and how to deal with his students.

They then started to say that they had the best intentions to make all the possible to give me a place back in the university, and that my mother shouldn't be so upset since they were there to help us.

That's when my mother stood up, and told my parent and I to go.

All the people on the room was dead silent.

My mother said "We wanted justice, that's why we came, not to beg for a way back in this university. You told us to not take legal actions against the teacher since you would fix things up and give him a punishment. We wanted justice for what that man did to my daughter. And you, the dean of this university, didn't even lifted a finger for my daughter".

And we excited the room... to never go again.

That's my story.

All what had happened to me in a year, since July of 2014 to August of 2015.

I got accepted to another university, a very prestigious one as well. I started at the beginning of this month.

For Design. Industrial design this time. I build stuff, yet I still use my Graphic knowledge in many things.

I didn't accepted the chance to go back to the other university. Not after the reunion, which made me open my eyes of what kind of people is inside there. All afraid to lose their jobs, nobody brave enough to fight for a student in danger. All taking care of themselves and in denial of all.

I told my friends I changed universities since I was tired of the constant strikes that university had (sometimes lasting even 2 months or 3 without classes) and they believed it.

But the real reason, is what you just read.

I wish I had a nice ending for this blog, like: "Now I believe in life", or "In this new university I found true love" or something full of hope on that style. But the true is that I'm just another human being, hoping to don't hurt the ones I love, trying to do the best I can with the things I got... Hoping to be accepted and loved.

Like we all are.

I still got my personal issues, I'm still insecure and it's still hard for me to make new friends. But I'm happy once again.

I'm honestly happy.

Happy to see how much my parents love me and support me. Happy that I'm able to start over. Happy for having a new chance in life. Happy to have options and being able to decide my future once again. And well. Who knows what the future will bring me? Which new battles I'll have to fight...

But that's the good thing about life, right?

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