Tag Archives: college

Schooling Woes

I believe schooling woes are a pretty good metaphor for life struggles.

I’m in college for the first time ever.

Due to a death in the family and all the drama and emotional pain that goes with that… I’m two days behind on work.

Basically, three chapters of reading and absorbing (and these are twenty-five-page chapters loaded with things to memorize), three chapters worth of workbook assignments, take fabulous notes, a two-part assignment, and read and absorb notes from the instructor. Due tonight.

I get done two chapters reading and absorbing and all the instructor’s notes. The assignment due isn’t on the third chapter, so I’ll read up on that tomorrow. It will be needed for future assignments but not tonight’s.

I’m doing good… Understand everything. Liking it. Great information. Do the assignment.  Took epic notes.

….Go to do the workbook assignments…

The workbook asks questions based on what’s going to be on tests and future assignments.

I read the workbook questions… NO IDEA WHAT’S GOING ON. Not what I took notes on or remember. Stuff I will never use and don’t care about.

 

You remember those tests in math in high school where they taught you A+B=C squared and then the test asked you the diameter of an alien’s eyeball if the neighbor’s donkey is three-legged and Sally is twice the age of Kim Kardashian…??? you know, those tests….

 

THAT’S what I just got slammed with. At nine at night.

Assignments due Monday.

What the frickety-frick?!?!

 

 

I think it’s a pretty good metaphor for life.

We think we’re learning what we need to. We think we’re prepared for whatever life decides to throw at us.

*WHAM*

Life smacks you upside the head with a Borderline Personality clown freshly escaped from a 51/50 with a brain made of cotton candy and a Glock down his belt.

 

I think what I’m taking from this is…

Life is about learning. Not getting straight “A”s, (which by the way, is a huge thing for me because I’ve always had straight “A”s).

Life is about discovery and new experiences. Finding options, possibilities, and avenues I never even thought possible.

Life is about letting the unimportant things go. Finding what the important things really are.

Failing my way into succeeding. Letting go of the fear of messing up.

Mistakes are going to happen.

 

“A person who never made a mistake never tried anything new.”

Albert Einstein

 

 

Drowning in homework is NOT the point.

Do I even see the sunshine in the morning? Feel the breeze on my skin? Enjoy the sound of morning birds? Feel the calm of the early morning stillness?

Do I enjoy the stories my family tells me? Instead of brushing them off or drowning them out so I can study…

Do I really see the beautiful family and friends in my life? My gorgeous, sweet, goofy baby bunny (dog) with his floofy ears and big brown eyes?

Do I hear the laughter of the kids outside? … Or am I too worked up in a frenzy about what I must get done? Must check off the to-do list. Am I rushing through life, not even noticing it?

Do I feel myself becoming someone worthwhile? Or do I score my days by the workload and time spent studying over the actual life lived and knowledge integrated into the living of it?

 

“Life is to be enjoyed, not just endured.”

Gordon B. Hinckley

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During Therapy

“I know of people who are bedridden. I’m not saying I’m not grateful.” I smirk at her. “You know I’m a lot more grateful now, than I ever was. I see the greatness in my life, the potential, options, beauty, goodness.”

I look down, play with the black tassel of the zipper on my bag. “I fight it. I don’t think I’ve accepted it, how it affects me, controls me, every day.”

My therapist smiles softly. “How do you fight against it?”

“Struggle to be awake, to focus, to get rid of a chronic illness, one of many. It’s like I’m filled with lead in a world of people filled with helium. And I’m sitting here berating myself as if I’m only being lazy.”

“And how would you be if it didn’t affect you?”

I shrug. “Without ME? I’d have energy. Suddenly not be affected by it at all. Be able to focus and be part of my life. I actually like life now. I want to be here for it. Instead I’m sleeping it away.”

“What do you think you’d have to do in order to stop allowing ME to affect you?”, my therapist asks.

My laugh is short and without humor. “Be God.”

 

She laughs and smiles. “You’ve got it.”

“There are only two things you need to know about God.” She holds up a finger. “One, there is a God.” A second finger. “Two, you aren’t God.”

 

“You’re experiencing a lull, yes. But it’s normal.” She responds to my concern. “Life does this. Humans do this. It’s like going to college. At first, you’re excited, you’ve got your eye on the prize – your degree, your desired job. Freshman year is a breeze. But then it gets hard. The homework. The papers get harder. The professors, the lack of sleep.” She looks at me, kind, clever, and all-knowing as ever. “You’re somewhere in your sophomore/junior year. Keeping going.”

“Right,” I agree, nodding my head as I think it through, “life is always going to be hard.”

I brighten a bit, a troubling issue illuminated. “You’re right. I’m doing everything I need to be. I’m taking care of my responsibilities and striving to do better at being kind to myself, accepting myself for who I am. I’m finding ways to enjoy my life. I eat some froyo and deal with the minor migraine later that night. Then the next day I go back to eating the way my SIBO having self can deal with, without regretting or getting down on myself for indulging. I’m still trying and in many ways succeeding.”

I smile to myself. Take a deep breath in, let it out.

“My depression and anxiety are just taking me through a detour. I’m still on the right path.”

 

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IDENTITY: Briefly Endure Daphne’s Contemplative Side…

There is no defining moment. You must break free of your own accord.

More often times than not, when someone asks a writer – “When did you decide/ know you wanted to be a writer?” – they have a pretty good answer. A specific one. A certain day or an event that caused it within them to want to write or realize that’s what they always wanted to do.

I have no freaking clue as to what caused me to want to write! I don’t remember much of my childhood but one thing’s cemented into every memory; I always wanted to write. In fact, I’ve never even had to give it thought before. Never doubted it.

But that brings me to something less concrete. Who am I?

I’m a writer, yes, but what else? Are people so caught up in daily life that they forget to figure this out? Or give it any attention at all? I did.

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