Who am I?
So, how am I really doing?
Well, do you want what I tell people, or do you want to know how I really am? I bet after I tell you, you'll wish you'd chosen the former, but here it is, straight up with no bullshit attached...
I knew that every facet of my life was going to change when I moved to Augusta (aka Disgusta...affectionately, of course). Knowing how different things would be made it important for me to remember that I couldn't compare life in Athens to the new life I'm trying to figure out here in the AUG. It's apples and oranges, and I'm here for different reasons. Therefore, my schedule is different, the people are different, my responsibilities and purpose are different, and my overall life in general is just on a completely different road. And that's ok. The problem is that in making this transition, I feel like I lost a piece of myself that I'm going to have to find all over again. I don't know where this road is leading, and I don't really even know the person walking down it. All I know is that for the first time in my life, I'm totally stepping back, putting everything on autopilot, and letting God's plan take its course.
Well, this should be good, right? Sometimes I'm not so sure...
Today, as I was sitting in class listening my English-educated Nigerian research teacher, ramble on and on about how to calculate the reliability and validity of research statistics (exciting stuff, huh?), I wondered why the hell I ever thought going to PT school was a good idea. I mean, my classes aren't horrible. In fact, I'd even say that the workload is equivalent to the demands that UGA presented to me in undergrad; afterall, I've definitely still had time to go to the bars, attend a keg party, and take advantage of Thirsty Thursday at the Augusta Greenjackets game and make pyramids with all the cans of beer we drank (128 to be exact...crazy huh?)
But, at the same time, I find myself spending my spare time in a cadaver lab trying to figure out muscles, bones, nerves, tendons, arteries, veins, etc. while trying to keep the smell of fermaldahyde out of my nose, the face of the cadaver covered with the towel, and my emotions stable enough to prevent me from having a panic attack (I've already had one.....and here I thought I was emotionally strong!) When I'm not with Bob (my cadaver....don't ask) I'm thinking about him, dreading having to go see him again, and holding back tears because all the time I've spent with him has broken down my emotional bulwark to where the slightest thing makes me cry. Example: Staisha asked me about a memento I have from my Dad, and I broke down into a hysterical crying fit. It's almost been a year, and I've definitely moved on. So what the hell?
Who am I?
I've gotten to the point where I can't even stand to look in the mirror. I don't like who I see, I don't like who I am, and I absolutely don't feel like I hold any sort of self-worth. Sad, isn't it?
WHO AM I?
But of course, my demeanor reflects that of the same ole Stacy. I'm the master of throwing things into the back of my head, but there have definitely been more tears behind closed doors. I'll continue to walk down this road with a smiley face, and I know that I'll get to where I'm going, but if you were to ask me right now where I saw myself in 10 years, I'd tell you that you'd see a successful PT who was single and living in a townhouse while getting fatter and uglier with no one remotely close enough to me to be able to understand me. I know it's ridiculous, but that's just how I feel right now. And I don't know how to make it go away.
Who am I?
I have senioritis, and I'm only in my third week of school. Sometimes I feel like I don't belong here. Maybe being a personal trainer would have been better for me. At least I wouldn't have to play with cadavers. But I know I'll make it. Somehow. Trusting God's plan isn't the hard part; it's just a matter of accepting it. I'm being completely submissive to Him. Things will work out how they are supposed to, but I'm not so sure I'm going to like the ending.
We'll see.
I still love y'all.....
Well, do you want what I tell people, or do you want to know how I really am? I bet after I tell you, you'll wish you'd chosen the former, but here it is, straight up with no bullshit attached...
I knew that every facet of my life was going to change when I moved to Augusta (aka Disgusta...affectionately, of course). Knowing how different things would be made it important for me to remember that I couldn't compare life in Athens to the new life I'm trying to figure out here in the AUG. It's apples and oranges, and I'm here for different reasons. Therefore, my schedule is different, the people are different, my responsibilities and purpose are different, and my overall life in general is just on a completely different road. And that's ok. The problem is that in making this transition, I feel like I lost a piece of myself that I'm going to have to find all over again. I don't know where this road is leading, and I don't really even know the person walking down it. All I know is that for the first time in my life, I'm totally stepping back, putting everything on autopilot, and letting God's plan take its course.
Well, this should be good, right? Sometimes I'm not so sure...
Today, as I was sitting in class listening my English-educated Nigerian research teacher, ramble on and on about how to calculate the reliability and validity of research statistics (exciting stuff, huh?), I wondered why the hell I ever thought going to PT school was a good idea. I mean, my classes aren't horrible. In fact, I'd even say that the workload is equivalent to the demands that UGA presented to me in undergrad; afterall, I've definitely still had time to go to the bars, attend a keg party, and take advantage of Thirsty Thursday at the Augusta Greenjackets game and make pyramids with all the cans of beer we drank (128 to be exact...crazy huh?)
But, at the same time, I find myself spending my spare time in a cadaver lab trying to figure out muscles, bones, nerves, tendons, arteries, veins, etc. while trying to keep the smell of fermaldahyde out of my nose, the face of the cadaver covered with the towel, and my emotions stable enough to prevent me from having a panic attack (I've already had one.....and here I thought I was emotionally strong!) When I'm not with Bob (my cadaver....don't ask) I'm thinking about him, dreading having to go see him again, and holding back tears because all the time I've spent with him has broken down my emotional bulwark to where the slightest thing makes me cry. Example: Staisha asked me about a memento I have from my Dad, and I broke down into a hysterical crying fit. It's almost been a year, and I've definitely moved on. So what the hell?
Who am I?
I've gotten to the point where I can't even stand to look in the mirror. I don't like who I see, I don't like who I am, and I absolutely don't feel like I hold any sort of self-worth. Sad, isn't it?
WHO AM I?
But of course, my demeanor reflects that of the same ole Stacy. I'm the master of throwing things into the back of my head, but there have definitely been more tears behind closed doors. I'll continue to walk down this road with a smiley face, and I know that I'll get to where I'm going, but if you were to ask me right now where I saw myself in 10 years, I'd tell you that you'd see a successful PT who was single and living in a townhouse while getting fatter and uglier with no one remotely close enough to me to be able to understand me. I know it's ridiculous, but that's just how I feel right now. And I don't know how to make it go away.
Who am I?
I have senioritis, and I'm only in my third week of school. Sometimes I feel like I don't belong here. Maybe being a personal trainer would have been better for me. At least I wouldn't have to play with cadavers. But I know I'll make it. Somehow. Trusting God's plan isn't the hard part; it's just a matter of accepting it. I'm being completely submissive to Him. Things will work out how they are supposed to, but I'm not so sure I'm going to like the ending.
We'll see.
I still love y'all.....
posted by Stacy @ 11:10 PM
3 Comments:
At 12:25 AM ,
Staisha said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
At 12:33 AM ,
Staisha said...
Well, I know who you are. You're my best friend who I've always admired with all my heart for your beauty that exists as strongly outside as it does in. You've been thrown off your equilibrium because you're in a completely different town. All you have to do is get adjusted and all the pieces will fall into place.
You're only an hour and 15 minutes from me when I'm in statesboro...and if I was willing to drive that distance for some bullshit class EVERYDAY in may (perry to milledgeville), then you BETTER believe I'd come visit you in a heartbeat! AND I'd do it as often as your schedule permits!
You're one of the most intellegent/beautiful people I know and because of that, your future will only become more rewarding as time progresses.
*I PROMISE*
I love you and I miss you and I can't wait until I see you again!
At 4:06 PM ,
R.D.G. said...
Stac,
Congratulations! It is growth.
I know... WHAT THE H@LL! and/or SHUT THE F#@K UP!!!
In high school you were top dog. You went to UGA and you started over at the bottom of your next higher level. Throughout College you worked your way up to the top of that level. It felt good. Comfortable.
Now you are in the AUG, the "bottom" of your next higher level. It is uncomfortable. It feels like wearing shoes on the wrong feet and the air smells funny. It is not bad it is just different.
Most people shrink from the "Who am I?" and the "What the H@ll am I doing this for?". They slide back into mediocrity only to live their lives in the comfort and glory of their past accomplishments. For many it was high school football and/or cheerleading. Perhaps it is the track meet that they won in the 5th grade.
Don't believe me? Listen to the old bald fat guy sitting in the bar with you talking about, "when I was younger..." or "... in my day..." or "When I was in the service...".
Being successful is hard, that is why most people won't do it. Instead of succeeding, they get on food stamps and complain that life isn't fair instead of getting up and doing something about it.
So I say again...
Congratulations! You are a winner! Winners do what losers won't.
"Successful people do what unsuccessful people don't like to do long enough to learn to like it." - Jack D. Daughery
(He may have paraphrased it from Napoleon Hill or somewhere else, but he is the only one that I've actually heard say it.)
I have faith in you even when you don't. It is my job to have enough faith in you for the both of us.
I do.
If you need a cheerleader. I'll do it. If you want me to wear a funny outfit and I can't change your mind about it while cheering... ok, if I must. (Anyone caught laughing besides you will find themselves as a full contact sparring partners without pads for my students.)
Seriously, you are a sum total of what your life's decisions have made you. I think you did a good job and I like it.
I am proud of you.
Call me if you need anything.
Love you.
"Deanie - W..." - you get the idea
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