From Riches to Rags

I wonder if my doctor would write me a prescription for Xanax if I told her that I have a near anxiety attack every time I log onto my online bank account. It's funny because I haven't always been this hard up for cash. In fact growing up I was considered "rich", or at least by Clay City, Indiana standards. We had an inground pool, four-wheelers, golf-carts, go-karts, all the latest fashion, you name it. I never went a day without in my life. Anything I ever wanted I got without having to ask twice. We traveled regularly, went on lavish vacations, and spent winters in Florida. I even had my own Motorola flip phone in the 5th grade.. we're talking like circa 1995. NO ONE had a cell phone then! I was pretty much a BIG deal! What the hell happened?!

I'll tell you what happened. I went from high class to PWT basically overnight. It just came out of nowhere. No fair warning or explanation just basically "Well, we're broke. You're on your own. Good luck". I was 18. I had just started college. I went to college because it was "what I was supposed to do" according to everyone I knew. I had no decided degree or any idea what I wanted to do with my life but was suddenly paying out of pocket to be there. All these accounts I had that were supposed to pay for my college were suddenly gone. So here I was thrown into the big, harsh, angry world without a dime or a clue. I think I became so mad at the world and my situation that I pretty much gave up and sailed my way through college. I never tried, I never went to class, I never made any long term goals. I somehow managed to graduate with a BS degree in Psychology, never having once bought a single textbook. My college professors thought I was some sort of freak of nature. They thought that I had found a way to cheat the whole system and that if other students could do what I did that their establishment would be out of business in no time. I guess I am just a freak. I failed 3 courses, was on academic probation my entire five years I was there, and still managed a 3.2 grade point average. In fact, when graduation rolled around I was told I couldn't graduate because I had failed a class due to lack of attendance. I actually had to use my unmatched photographic memory and trace back through my notes and agenda to figure out which days I had missed then find excuses as to why I had missed them. I fabricated an entire story about being sick with some unknown illness in which I found a doctor to write me excuses for those days I had missed, somehow convicing both the doctor and the professor of my fabrication. I know what you're thinking. Why not use all that brain power and energy on something productive and actually make something of myself. I guess I never thought of that.