School shouldn’t make you feel bad. I know there’s joy to be felt in studying and working hard at something, to then be rewarded for that. I also know, however, that very infrequently do I feel passionate about something to study it in that way. Up until this point, I’ve relied heavily on my ability to just do without practice or commitment. Unfortunately, it’s not been serving me as faithfully as it used to since my college debut. The result of this is hair loss, stress, and extreme anxiety.
I’ve been taking on a lot of course work, only one is trulyÂ difficultÂ for me at this point, but the quantity is still daunting. Unfortunately, it’s only one degree between freezing and not, as they say. My highest honors, I fear, might be thrown out the proverbial window. And that terrifies me. But things keep coming up, over and over. Tomorrow is my first day teaching German, and although I know they’re just eight years old, I’m afraid they too will be mocking my math talent, poor GPA, or latest, most recent failure.
Admitting that felt good; I needed that. I have a lot to do, but not all of it is bad. I find myself wanting to wake up at eight o’clock every morning for a class that I enjoy– and I think that is theÂ significanceÂ I’ve been hoping for in my classes. The material is not easy, but as hooky as it sounds, I enjoy it. I’ve also just started a new piece, one with so much passion that the ending requires fourÂ combined into one grand staff. I find myself daily updating and reviewing the sources to two brand new JITÂ compilationÂ engines, and I love it. I find myself overwhelmed with the possibility I have to create stories and imagine new relationships, all without even opening my word processor to write. I have more books than I have time for, and so many thoughts to think about.
But it’s all becoming quite overwhelming. Without the security and comfort of home, without sold things I trust, I’m losing it a little bit. I haven’t felt at home for a long time, and I don’t think I will anytime soon, either. All and all though, I’m a bit a head; the usual depression isn’t here quite yet. I feel the stress, though, and my back is straining. I feel like a friend to enjoy coffee with and talk about some of these deeper demons would be a welcome relief, but I haven’t heard from her in a long time. Anyone to talk to might just be enough, but also, of course, things would be a lot easier if I could just have one peaceful night of sleep.