Decisions and Dramatics

This last week has been full of critical decisions for me. I thought long and very hard about what I'm going to do with myself as far as school is concerned. My nursing classes were rendering me physically ill. I was nauseous, I had some (to put it as politely as possible) intestinal issues, and I would break into a sweat whenever I walked into a nursing class. Along with my recent apprehension, this was telling me pretty clearly that nursing isn't for me any more.

The hardest part of this whole process has been making the decision to drop my nursing classes this semester. I've worked for the past two and a half years at having a career in nursing, only to discover that I don't like it at all. I really hate it. It makes me ill. This is not a good thing. The thing that I have always known, though, is that I wanted to teach. My initial goal was to get a master's degree in nursing and teach nursing courses. I know that I want to teach. I think I'd be much better suited to teaching English, though.

I've always loved words. They have a cathartic effect for me. I've always been passionate about writing, but I never thought that I was very good at it. From the time that I was little, I wanted to be a writer. Those who cannot do, teach. I think I have a temperament suited quiet well to teaching, and it's something that I'd love to do. Supplemental instruction at Owens definitely showed me how rewarding teaching is, as well as how much I love it.

With all of this in mind, I'll be going this week to drop my NUR 210, NUR 211, and NUR 212 courses and find a new advisor. I'm keeping my pathophysiology, biochemistry, and nutritional chemistry courses, though. I need to do what's right for me, and this is it. The hardest part was making the choice. Once I decided, my emotional levels have calmed back down to normal. I'm not as manic or freaked out. I'm much better, actually. Things are much more normal.

That is, with regard to everything except my roommate. Last night, after politely requesting several things of her, she stormed off and hasn't spoken to me since then. I had to get the residential advisors involved, which irks me because I did everything right in this situation. I was polite and cordial; I never yelled or accused. I simply asked her to modify two small behaviors, and it became the crisis of the century for her.

The whole situation strikes me as much too dramatic for such a small request. I'm inclined to accuse her of making it bigger than it has to be for the attention. I have to say that in light of some of the events of the past, I'm not entirely comfortable with her. Her moods and behaviors are erratic, her social skills are lacking to put it mildly, and her hygiene habits leave much to be desired. She seems mostly nice enough, but her blow up yesterday makes me question that initial assessment. To be frank, I came here to avoid the erratic behaviors of my family. It doesn't please me to find myself faced with them again in her. I'm not entirely sure what to do with her because my first inclination--violence--is utterly unacceptable. I definitely seek advice. Help me out here, internet!