Get Ready to Par-Tay!

And we continue with the rebellion that got its start in my teen years and really ramped up when I went away to college. While this part may not talk about being Christadelphian specifically, I shine a light on how I acted out against all the restrictions I had lived under until this time.

In truth, I see now that God was with me even when I had started to move away from him. He proved over and over that he was watching over me thru my survival of some pretty risky behavior. These times of my life are proof of the old adage - "there but for the grace of God, go I".

Jim and me Sept 1982 - heading out to a semi-formal dance @ college

College, Part 1

The college years were memorable on so many levels. Firstly, and most importantly, I met my future husband, Jim. Secondly, I had the critical away -from-home experiences that all those in their late teens should have. It is a time of deep learning - both how to do things and how not to do things. One of those how not to do things was - party. Party hardy was the motto of my college campus and boy oh boy, did I rise to that challenge.

There is a particular point to the partying that is necessary to explain - seniors had no classes on Thursdays. As you can imagine, with seniors ruling our small rural campus, Wednesdays were the biggest party nights, second only to Fridays. We had a bar on-campus that would serve anyone with a campus ID. So at least we didn’t drink & drive.

Conversely, as a freshman, in my first semester I had an 8:00am class every Thursday. And it was just my luck to be Calculus - my absolutely worst class in every possible way. To face that on a Thursday AM was akin to a form of torture. To face it after a night of partying at the biggest beer drop in the region was a recipe for failure. Which…in the end it almost was a literal failure. I squeaked by that class by the tiniest margin due to some intense tutoring I paid for myself in preparation for the year’s final exam.

Anyway, as a small private college, 95% of the students came from families of financial means. And about 50% of those had bottomless bank accounts - they funded all the parties, bless their wealthy hearts. Truthfully, this cohort of students were some of the nicest people I had met at that time. Generous to a fault, kind hearted, and completely accepting of everyone’s situation in life. 

We also had students who worked on campus to help pay for their educations. Jim was one of those plus he lived at home, being only 5 miles from campus. I was in-between, living on-campus and going home every weekend to work part time. So, Wednesday nights were my only time to partake in the epic number of parties that included free alcohol and, yes, free drugs. 

It was at one of these parties that I engineered meeting Jim in the second semester. By this time my Calculus class was no longer at 8:00am on Thursdays, and it is in that class where I first saw Jim. Let me tell you…love at first sight is a real thing. I had it bad for him. When I learned we had a mutual friend, I pressed that friend to host a party for the singular purpose of meeting Jim.

It was a blind date for him, not for me. We both leaned into this budding relationship, indulging in all the drinking and drugs we could get our hands on in that semester. Plus, the usual activities one engages in while living away from home.

To say I had forsaken my first year of higher education would be a vast understatement. When I say I squeaked by that Calculus class that is really sugar coating it a bit. While I didn’t fail any classes I didn’t exactly apply myself either. I was more dedicated to deepening my rebellion than anything else.

I still had to go home on weekends to work so I was largely controlled by my parents and their expectations. Especially going to church on Sundays. Held fast to the Christadelphian ideals I pushed and kicked at it all whenever I could. But my parents kept a tight rein on my movements, so my opportunities were slim. Even on Sunday evenings if there was a church talk, I was expected to be there then I could drive back to college. I’d arrive at my dorm at 10:00pm, just in time to crawl under the covers and sleep.

Yet I treasured my rebellion. Away from my parents and their abusive control (this went beyond the restrictions of the family’s faith; my parents were physically & emotionally abusive to me as well) I thrived socially, learning how to be independent in the only way a teen still relying on parental funds could be. Thru parties and covert activities. 

Of course, I paid for it all in the end. My first college transcript was a dismal disappointment. I am not proud of that part of my rebellion. I wasted my freshman year of higher education. My parents gave me the gift of a fully funded college experience - with my part-time work paying for gas in my car and any personal expenses on-campus. And I shamefully threw it back at them by getting a final grade which enraged them and humiliated me. I knew I was better than that and made the mature decision to live at home in my sophomore year, working more hours after classes and on weekends.

And I worked on my relationship with Jim. As mentioned previously, he was a little later to embrace the whole thing. But in the end my "sparkling charm" wore him down, poor thing. I regret nothing.