Nothing of note happened to me faith-wise for many months. Well, at least I thought so. In reality, I was subconsciously and sometimes consciously asking the big questions, chewing on less-than-satisfactory answers for the most part, and often charging head-first into dead ends. The question of faith never left me. I've always been insatiably curious, and had a strong desire to know the stone cold truth about anything and everything. I am still that way. Unlike some people, I'm not good at lying or making up fantasy stories, and I've always been able to smell even the slightest hint of dishonesty from miles away. I strive to be as open and truthful as possible to myself and those I trust. From them, I expect the same.
Besides that, I was learning about the world in general, as well as about myself, at a startling pace. My school grades continued to hover in the A's and B's, even as I was tackling subjects I'd previously severely struggled in, such as math and science. As a result, I grew more confident in myself and my abilities. I sometimes dreamt about previous teachers who had called me stupid and slow to my face, in which I'd show them where I now was and smugly grinned at the shock in their eyes.
But, I never seemed arrogant, except to myself. I still had very little self-esteem and often suffered from imposter syndrome. Yet, those around me, from my current teacher to my parents, were incredibly impressed by my grades and how quickly I could learn now that most of the things that caused me anxiety were gone. Of course, I still struggled with severe anxiety, especially surrounding my health, which at the time was not stable at all. But, at least I wasn't drowning in anxiety, so I could focus quite easily on what needed to be done.
The rest of eleventh grade went by in a blur. I barely remember it, except the day my teacher told me I had made it to my senior year in high school. "You're free to go home, now!" my teacher, Eric said (yes, I was (and still am) on a first-name basis with my teacher), "See you Monday for writer's, and we'll get started on school again in a month or so!"
Honestly, I didn't think I'd live to hear such words. It felt weird walking home that morning, but in a good way. I had a little more spring in my step than usual, and I felt lighter than I had in a long time. By then, the sting of my grandpa's death, while still there, was very dull. Health wise, I was back to my old self again. And, I felt like I could enjoy the rest of summer a lot easier knowing that I'd finish school with Eric as my teacher instead of being forced back into another school building with my peers. Overall, life had gotten way better. Just in time for the rug to get ripped out from under me yet again.
