Allow me to indulge in a bit of whining, with a touch of bitterness and self-loathing thrown in to make it well-rounded.
I don't want to be here right now.
I am, quite simply, tired of it. I am tired of studying. I am bored with days that are filled with words on pages, and learning isn't fun anymore. I walked out of class today because I'd had enough. I've been in that seat, in that room, every single weekday morning since August, and I'm done. Just done.
It feels like I'm missing something. The more I think about it, the more I realize that the something is just, life. The things that make my life worthwhile, and exciting, and interesting, where I wake up eager to figure out what the day is going to bring. And I don't roll out of bed anticipating what our next genetics lecture is going to cover. I crave interaction with people, and doing things with my hands, and going and seeing. Instead, I see the same four walls every single day.
It's harder when the things I'm missing are concrete, and not just ideas. I talked about Andrew and Tara's wedding, and my disappointment that I can't go--it just gets harder when I realize that friends are going to be there who I haven't seen in years. Every single one of mine will be at that wedding, except for me. They're going to be the first of us to get married. And almost closure for me, in a way. A final validation that, yes, things were hard, but it was worth it, worth fighting to keep those friendships, because the end result is beautiful. Perhaps I'm being dramatic, but it would have meant a great deal.
I want to leave for an entire weekend. I want three days in a row where I don't worry about studying, or my lack of productivity--where I wallow in doing absolutely nothing, or everything, whichever feels better.
I suppose what I really want is to remember the point. Why any of this matters at all. Why I ever wanted to do this, to be here, to sacrifice pieces of life for this. I don't know. Perhaps I don't have the drive everyone keeps saying I need--but what really kills me is that it doesn't matter if I do or not, if I'd rather be a thousand miles away or right here, or if I want to wash my hands of everything for a little while. I got myself into this, and it doesn't matter what I feel like. Still have to keep doing it.
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I want the damn dog to stop barking next door. I want to sleep in on rainy mornings, and bake bread, and go longboarding with Ryan, heedless about what time it is. I am. Tired. Of this.
This Sabbath, on the day when everyone else around here was grateful for God's precious sacrifice, I realized that I contributed nothing good to the world, that I only spewed out negativity and hurt, that I was only being a burden for my friends. I had never felt such despair.
I felt trapped, and I felt angry. I believed that I was less than human, or worse, a monster.
So the trouble I've been experiencing lately is not the same as yours, but I just wanted you to know that I understand being tired of this (though mine is different from yours).
I would offer you words of wisdom if I had any, but the truth is that I don't. I'm still struggling. I am in a less dark place than I was on Sabbath, but it is not because of anything I did.
Well. No, actually, that isn't entirely true. I recognized what deep trouble I was in, asked for help, and accepted it when it came. I figured out what I needed and disregarded all the obstacles (mostly shame and fear) that kept me from asking for what I needed.
I don't know what you need or where you can find it, but do not deny yourself what you need, even if asking for it-- if taking it-- is hard.
I did, and today God blessed me in several ways that I do not deserve and will never be able to repay.
Goodness, this is a tome. Publish it if you want, or don't, or whatever feels right to you. Just know that I'm sorry you hurt, and I pray that it does not last. Also, if there's ever anything you need, let me know.
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