It’s been an emotional ride, this first week of school.
The winter takes a turn back into the recognizable – negative 10s degree Celsius that drains my soul. Just kidding, but the wind coupled with slushy grounds and numb cheeks is a downer on everybody. My energy levels drop and I have to take naps even though I’ve had enough sleep. Can we hibernate and not go to class?
I’m still not making much progress with my essays for MAcc application. I don’t know why but I hate these things. Listing all my accomplishments, letting people judge you with those horribly written essays, or beautifully written ones, and wait to be rejected but still holding on to the one ounce of hope that someone might see something in you. As with life, rejection is painful and getting a match for your dreams is so wonderful. But as reality would dawn, you can work as hard as you possibly can and give your all but if the other party doesn’t appreciate it, you’re left picking up the pieces.
Push all the blame to my monthly visitor, or the cold… The pressure is on because I want to do well, for my sake, for my family’s. The enormous amount of tuition fees is crushing in on us, and at times I feel so much guilt for making my parents’ lives difficult when they could have easily chosen to lead comfortable lives. They’ve worked so hard their entire lives, and never really reaped the seeds they sowed. They’ve sacrificed so much, for what? Am I worth it? I cry when I think back to my dad apologizing for not being able to come and help me move when I transferred schools. He said if we had more financial wriggle room, he would have. My parents never say “I love you”. But these words, they mean everything. The fact was I never thought of my life here as hardship until my parents brought it up. They said it’s these experiences that make me grow as a person. I concur. As hard as I try not to, at times I would still cry myself to sleep. That was more of an occurrence last year because of…multiple things. Hostility of the environment being one, having no one to confide in being another, and just other various things I could not adapt to. I don’t feel as troubled this year but I miss home so much. I miss being surrounded by familiar smells, tastes, family and friends. I miss the celebrations. It doesn’t mean anything by yourself. But another part of me also feels really isolated in that I’m stuck in between. My values, visions, hopes have evolved, as one should hope so. Home becomes a metaphor for everything safe and wonderful, but nostalgia dissociates itself from reality. I might still be a foreigner back home.
And then health issues stay at the back burner of my mind. Failed to-be relationships, or whatever they are called before that stage also makes me question if I’m unlovable. I don’t open up about these things and let myself feel vulnerable so I don’t know why I’m penning these emotions down. I’m good with being strong, being empathetic, being stoic. I would usually take on a persona, and let creativity fly. I still can’t bring myself to elaborate, however. At a certain point, I guess it just gets too hard to bottle everything up. Fears, insecurities are part of life, and I try to keep in perspective, try not to go down the rabbit hole. I’m still grateful for where I am now, and everything that’s happened – the good, and the bad.
“The good comes with the sad. The sad with the good. And it’s not so clear. Life’s not harder or easier. It’s just both, all whirled into one.” – Lisa Shanahan