Tag Archives: tears

I am here

Facing the reality of the fact that no matter how hard you try, you may fail sometime, and trying to figure out what you’re supposed to keep working toward and what you’re supposed to let go of is a lot of work.

It requires humility and strength of endurance that I do not always have. Sometimes it results in being overwhelmed by your own inadequacy, and being unable to try to hold on any more, and twenty minute sobbing sessions in your room where no one can see you.

Eventually loved ones find you and try to console you while you simply recognize the fact that you have no control over the situation and don’t want to be crying, and really don’t mean to be bothering them with your pain, but you just can’t handle the stress at the moment and you need to cry.

Then you get ready for bed, read a novel for four hours, and go to sleep thinking that at least your life is better than the character’s in the dystopian society, and at least you can enter a different world for four hours at a time, and step into the life of someone else, be it ever so briefly, and be okay. Not only be okay, but maybe grow stronger with the recognition that we all struggle as human beings, and nobody has everything under control, and that while you may be crying about a situation you see no way out of, the pain is temporary and ultimately, some way or another, it will be solved.

You are loved, and it will be okay.

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My close friend

My close friend, who is far away, wanted to speak to me yesterday.

My close friend, who is far away, talked with me and had something to say.

My close friend, who is far away, is in the hospital for a temporary stay.

My close friend, who is far away, told me and told me to not relay

the story of her sickness, the story that with quickness, in a short message no explanation, she gave a short telling with hesitation…

My close friend, who is so far away, has cancer.

 

I want to cry for my close friend, I want to cry for me.

I want to cry for my close friend, for the friend I hardly see.

I want to cry for my close friend, but the tears can’t do any good.

I want to cry for my close friend, but I don’t even know if I should.

 

What right have I to cry for her and for her pain…

Am I even crying for that, or for a friendship on the wane?

It is not fair for me to cry, she is the one who is suffering.

It is not fair for me to cry, crying can do nothing.

 

I am just the friend, I am not the one who is dying.

I am just the friend, and she cannot see me crying.

I am just the friend, and I must be strong for her

because if I am not strong, she cannot cry for her.

 

Please pray for my close friend.

 

 

 

 

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Tears, teaching, and miraculous intervention.

If you’re a grad student like me, today might have been the start of the semester for you. Of course a grad student like me would be one who starts school after labor day because their school plans things like that, and then doesn’t have her first class until Tuesday night.
Also, if you’re really like me, which I hope you’re not, you were sobbing three hours before class started and then composing a really depressing blog post because you are somewhat of a wreck mentally and while looking for God to point out signs to help guide your life on a  non-disastrous path, you got blinded by burden of suffering.
That post didn’t get published, but this one will, because this one gives a fuller picture of the situation, and this one will make me happy.

So, after crying I went to class, lost and confused, questioning my future and whether I wanted to be a teacher at all, and then several things happened that kind of turned things around.
To start, my teacher explained to us all that she was super nervous, and that she is always terrified on the first day of any class, and at certain moments in her teaching career, she would rather be anything but a teacher. However, at other moments there is nothing she would rather be doing, and teaching is the best thing in the world, and if one asked her during the moments whether she would live her life differently, she would do teaching all over again.
After this short statement, our teacher went into greater depth and began to explain her humble beginnings as an English tutor in her home country. She furthermore explained that her situation was so overwhelming at first that she wound up crying most nights after she finished tutoring kids, and questioning whether it was even worth it and why she was doing it. Ultimately, she moved on to actually teaching English classes, and now she realizes how valuable those tutoring years were in preparing her for now, and how much joy teaching brings her in general, and how even when we think there isn’t a plan for us, there is, and life is amazing.

That was pretty much the summary of her start to class, which was pretty much exactly what I, the person crying three hours before class about what I was doing in my life and whether teaching was worth it or God even wanted me to be happy or if that was part of the plan, needed to hear.

Following that, she went over the syllabus. When I had first looked at the syllabus at home in my room by myself, all I saw were scores of assignments that looked impossible to do and made me feel like life was a compilation of suffering. When we looked at the syllabus in class, miraculously, I had a strange feeling of calmness and hope, and it looked like the assignments were really just alterations of what I had done in previous classes. I thought to myself “As long as I get stuff done early I think I can handle this.” In an effort to plan ahead, I started thinking about what presentation I wanted to do, and realized that earlier would be best, and I looked at the topics and thought I would definitely want to do one of the first three. Then there was an icebreaker and class ended.
After this I had my final class, in which I discovered I was actually interested in the topic we would be studying, because we were learning about what makes learning a second language easier or more difficult as one ages, and I definitely want to and am weakly trying to learn a second language. So learning about those things was actually strangely helpful.
After class ended one of my classmates from the first class walked up to me and did three things, 1. Asked me to be her partner for the group presentations, 2. Said she wanted to get the project done early because she didn’t want to have a lot to do at the end of the semester 3. And said the words that had pretty much exactly been in my head and namely, that one of the first three topics would be good.
I responded positively to all of these things, and then kinda stood amazed that she had somehow read my mind without reading it at all.

That was my first day of gradschool. Just a few hours before class I was a wreck and questioning my life choices and needing affirmation and strength and support to help me get through it, and I broke down in tears in front of my mom who then prayed with me and for me, and then I went to class and everything just seemed to work.

This is my life, I don’t always understand it, and I get flippin frustrated sometimes, but somehow God eases the burdens and makes things doable.

Thank you God.

-Catherine

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When to cry, when to keep going, and when to give up…

I read for two hours.

Some of it was interesting. I didn’t know that there was a different word for the kinds of sounds you made when closing your mouth completely, versus when letting air escape through between your teeth, versus using your vocal chords or not. I also didn’t know that apparently anything that is understandable is “grammatical”. “Grammatical” being an idiotic word that refuses to claim whether a sentence is right or wrong, and merely allows it to be “standard” or “non-standard”.

I….cried.

I cried.

I CRIED BECAUSE OF GRAMMAR.

Because of Linguistics.

Because of writing about the “niche of a Research Proposal”, and because I’m incapable and pathetic and don’t comprehend or even want to comprehend the stuff in the books I spent 200 dollars on.

Because the English language is killing me, and I’ve only been to each of my classes once.

 

Was that unclear? Am I being unclear? It’s ungrammatical to be unclear…well, technically, it’s not…but it’s something.

 

I don’t know.

I don’t know if I even want to do this.

I don’t know if I don’t want to do this because I’m afraid of work, or because I legitimately don’t care about this stuff, or whether I will ever care.

I like words.

I like reading things.

I do not like THE REASON WHY. I don’t really care about the reason why. I don’t want to learn the reason why. I don’t want to teach the reason why. I just want to communicate effectively, and so far, all I’ve learned is that I can communicate less effectively if I want to and still be “grammatical”.

 

…It’s day three, and I want to quit gradschool.

I don’t know if I simply was smarter before surgery, or if I simply have more of a capacity to hate boring, meaningless, pointless, miserable work, because I see how much suffering there is in life already and I don’t want to add to it, but I want to quit.

No offense, linguists.

I’m just…not…that….

Which means…I don’t know what I am.

Maybe I can be a linguist.

Maybe I can keep studying. It’s only day three. You can’t give up on day three, right? Even when you hate your classes and you don’t understand your textbooks or your homework assignments, and the idea of learning all of this stuff is …partially abhorrent?

Even if the only reason you like school is because you’re so ridiculously alone that you enjoy the opportunity to just be a part of something in real life….

 

 

I cried. I tried. I want to give up.

There’s nobody to tell me whether or not I can give up.

I’m an adult and I have to decide whether or not I’m going to ruin my life, or save it…and I don’t know which choice does which.

…To you, reader, it might seem strange that I’m putting so much importance on Grad school. Or does it? I don’t know…All I know is that I’ve spent a year at home trying and failing to do anything at all, and this was another try, and sure, I haven’t failed yet, but I already hate it. I don’t want to hate everything I do. It makes life seem so miserable. …And I have to find something to be successful at…and so I have to know whether I have to keep trying this or move on to another completely unknown path.

Sorry for the whine, I just, I’m lost again, and trying to figure it out.

 

– Catherine

 

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