2017.

I don’t even know where to start. The past year has been one of the loneliest, cruelest years that I can remember. They tell you grad school will be difficult, but they don’t tell you exactly how. With no financial aid, whatsoever, I made it. I have to take one more licensure exam that I missed by 3 points… But I’m nearly there, and after all that, I might not have a teaching job to help pay all of my bills this fall. I might have to settle for a teaching assistant job since the state has not finished processing my paperwork… even though it was sent in June.

Spring 2017 was an extremely rough semester for me. I didn’t think anything could top this Fall where I took 19 credits and worked 4 days a week. But my first student teaching placement was horrible. I have never been in an environment where my anxiety was so provoked (except maybe the doctor’s office). I cried more in those first few months than I have cried in the past 5 years. As someone who really doesn’t cry often, this was incredibly terrible. I eventually moved to a new placement, but it cost me all the hard work I had already put in, and starting over from scratch.

On June 12th, I began my takeover week at my new placement. It was a much better fit and I left feeling successful after that first day. The next morning, I continued my takeover week and was having a great day. At one point, I felt the need to check my phone for some reason. My mother had left a voicemail. In the transcription I read the words “grandmother. important. call me back.”

On June 13th around 7 am I lost the most influential person in my life. My 90-year-old grandmother lost her long fight to congenital heart failure.

I don’t even have the words to describe how I am feeling. All I know is that it just doesn’t feel real and that I am completely lost. I’m glad she didn’t suffer for very long (she fell and broke her pelvis not even a month before she passed). I feel guilty that I didn’t spend more time with her this past year since I was so consumed by grad school. I’m glad my cats were here to keep her company, but I could have done more.

I didn’t do enough.

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2 thoughts on “2017.

  1. I don’t know how many times I’ve felt as if I hadn’t done enough…but I assure you, everything will be alright.

    As the darkness of pain overcomes our senses of joy, our minds forget what it is to see the light at the end of the tunnel and therefore our hearts do not believe there is anything more. But, one day, the pain will settle into numbness and the numbness will only cloud, not blind, your heart from the light. One day, you will see the light at the end of the tunnel again. One day, you will have a spring to your steps once again. Because, one day, you will realize you’ve always been enough.

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