The gavel bangs for the final time, and the last charge’s vote is read: “Guilty”, the chair states, unemphatically. You stand up and leave, having just experienced the funeral procession of your career in a claustrophobic, stifling room.
An hour passes while the executioners deliberate and you find yourself filling the time with anything to distract from the emotional slaughter you are about to experience.
The door opens and a familiar, uninviting face beckons you to return to that seat you have been in and out of for the past seven hours. You put on a brave mask, knowing full-well that the results of this will not be in your favor.
“We move for impeachment”, the erstwhile rent-a-prosecutor states in a resounding voice, echoing through you like the beating of a gong. The vote passes; the years of time, effort, and energy you have poured thanklessly into the organization are wasted, and everything that you have done in that time, tainted.
If you thought that the trial was the most emotionally charged part of your removal from office, prepare for a rude awakening. The after-effects are exponentially worse: newspapers will write about you, casting you as the villain; the general populace will talk about you as if they know you; people will confuse your story with literally anything else that pops up; you will receive phone calls, Facebook messages, Twitter DM’s, texts, and any other type of correspondence you can imagine, day and night, of people considering themselves qualified to speak on the matter and you will be accused of things you did not do by people who you used to consider friends.
None of those combined can add up to the thing that will most affect you: avoidance. Everything that once gave you joy on your campus will be soiled with the poison of this unfortunate sequence of circumstances. You won’t want to see anyone remotely associated with the occurrence, which really puts a damper on involvement, class attendance and just existing in a space that you used to occupy.
This avoidance will take a serious toll on you, emotionally. You will begin to feel isolated, and as a result, will contribute to that isolation by pushing your friends away and ruining your relationships. A darkness will envelop you, the likes of which you have not experienced before.
Eight hours of Netflix and 16 hours of sleep will become your new normal, since your routine will have been utterly demolished by what happened. ABC’s Scandal will be the first steps toward the light, having been inspired by Olivia Pope’s all-around “badassery”, and you will start to remember who you are.
You will be roped into doing small things, like going on a camping trip with some friends. Long after everyone else has gone to sleep and you are still awake, stoking the fire, something will just click. At some point after your hundredth trip to the back of the truck where the wood is, it will dawn on you: your desire for the routine of your previous life is what has been holding you back.
Find something new to do with yourself that involves none of the people that burned you. You may not know what to do, but the point is just to do. You will soon find how rewarding an honest labor is and have a newfound hope for the future. Now, say it with me: “I was removed from office, but I am not going to let it ruin my life”.
