tonight's (or rather this morning, seeing it's 1am) update is gonna be a very long one, and one very honest so do bear with me.
i found this a few days ago, a very interesting read actually. and it says a lot of how i'm feeling, the things that i still can't bring to tell the people around me. so i hope this gives an idea to the people who are concerned about me. and i have to apologize for not responding to all your concerned questions, because i'm not sure how i should do it and i'm not yet ready to tell you all in person how i'm doing.
it's an article from
thought cataloug and it's tittled:
it's okay to be weak sometimes. here's the link to it:
http://thoughtcatalog.com/2012/its-okay-to-be-weak-sometimes/ it covers all the emotions i've felt about my journey in MJ thus far, a really good summary really. every emotion from joy to sadness, fear to disappointment, frustrations, acceptance, calmness. some not included in this article, but mostly covered.
and here is the article:
I was having a conversation recently with a friend about the prospect of having to leave France relatively soon to move to the States. I talked about how sad the whole experience would be — bittersweet, of course, but with a certain emphasis on the bitter — after all that I had constructed here. In so many ways, it has become my home, and contains so many places and people that I will never be able to take with me, who will have permanently created an empty space in my heart. I think often about the day when I will have to actually say goodbye, and my stomach turns over on itself. I don’t want to go.
“Just be strong,” he told me, “It’ll be okay.”
And I thought about this for a long time, what “strength” would actually denote when it comes to such emotional undertakings. In most aspects of life, a certain stoicism about the more difficult things we encounter is considered a positive, a sign that we’re coming into adulthood. But strength is often a very concrete, physical thing. It’s standing upright, it’s holding back a tear, it’s allowing someone to rest on your shoulder by not resting on them. Strength is a kind of resignation to the inevitability of what is happening around you, creating a port in the storm with your reliability in a world that is changing too quickly. When you’re strong, you don’t allow yourself to wallow in any kind of pity, you cut sadness off at the impasse and don’t move an inch.
There is a deep need for strength within us, for someone to reassure us that things are okay when everything is crumbling. We can’t all lean without something to lean on, and if we each hold our heads high just a little bit, everyone has an easier time. I know that to be strong in my situation — as it always has been for things which brought great sadness — is to be quiet, stoic, and appreciative of the positives. I still have my health, my youth, my future. There is good to everything, and to discreetly appreciate all of these things while minimizing the amount of emotion I let escape would be ideal. It would mean that I am strong, and am handling this like an adult.
But is strength, at least in the emotional sense, really always the sign of a deeper maturity? Sure, no one is helped by a complete succumbing to pain, but is there not a place in these moments for a certain kind of weakness? Weakness means crying, yes, but what is wrong with crying? Is it so taboo to be honest in confronting our pain? This weakness means letting others know just how important they are, how much they matter. Part of being weak is telling others, in whichever way we’re capable, that we need them. We are saying that we can’t do this by ourselves, that the love and support of those around us is essential for climbing the more difficult obstacles.
And don’t we want to be needed? Don’t we feel a strange kind of relief when someone around us is able to admit, truly, what is actually wrong — and acknowledge that they need a shoulder to lean on? We berate others for responding “I’m fine” to a “How are you?” when they are clearly anything but. We want them to be honest, because denying there’s a problem is the only certain way never to fix it. And yet, when pain gets too great and we are truly at a moment of emotional weakness, we are supposed to be the strong, silent type? It seems almost unfair to expect of us, at a moment when feeling the full weight of pain is most necessary, to squash it all down into some hidden-away compartment.
The truth is, I want to feel my pain. I want to feel the sadness and the near-burning nostalgia of leaving a place and a people I love, because it deserves it. Everything beautiful that we experience in life, when it suffers or comes to an end, is going to be filled with this kind of aching sorrow. But that is a good thing, because it means that it had significance in your life, that it cannot be easily dismissed like so many other things you let roll off your back. To be sad when the end comes is to pay homage to everything that was great, to all that it gave you, to who you are because of it. And yes, it is “weak” to cry and write letters and talk about your sadness. It is “weak” to rest your head on someone’s chest and welcome being consoled. It is “weak” to focus, at least temporarily, on the pain you feel.
But it is also wonderful. It is a moment in which you feel alive, human, and fully connected to the things that you touch in life. There are few moments where we lose or change or move on from something great, and those moments do make us weak. To be strong and silent in the face of them — to deny that they have touched you and will leave a great absence in your life — is to dismiss its importance. You may find yourself needing the support of friends and family, to be reassured and have your hand held. You may need to be reminded of what is good, and that the pain will subside. You may need to lean on someone. And that’s okay.
One day, someone will need to lean on you. They will have a hurt in their life that makes them feel everything they may have been trying to numb. And that day, you will be strong. Because strength isn’t a quality that we are all expected to embody individually when a bad thing befalls us. Strength is something we all share, that we give and take as needed, that we loan out with the intention of borrowing back later on. And when we are the yin to that yang, when we are crying instead of consoling — that is fine, too. Because a life without sadness and loss is a life without happiness and worth, and we all deserve to feel the full beauty of our lives.
i read this on the train.
and so you can imagine all the emotions i was feeling on that very train filled with strangers. honestly, it was lonelier than usual and a little more sad perhaps. but it was also comforting to know that all the feelings i have are not known to only me. there are people out there in this world with similar thoughts, perhaps even tougher challenges and maybe a stronger will than i have too. but there is a common point, we all feel the same.
this was me
last year:
" weak - to cry and write letters and talk about your sadness. to rest your head on someone’s chest and welcome being consoled. to focus, at least temporarily, on the pain you feel." basically crying non stop, an emotional wreck and quite like a loser really.
and this is me
this year (somewhat):
"strength is often a very concrete, physical thing. It’s standing upright, it’s holding back a tear. Strength is a kind of resignation to the inevitability of what is happening around you, creating a port in the storm with your reliability in a world that is changing too quickly. When you’re strong, you don’t allow yourself to wallow in any kind of pity, you cut sadness off at the impasse and don’t move an inch." basically a lot stronger, less prone to showing my real emotions in public and more composed.
so you see, i've changed. or at least i feel i have.
what has changed is not the emotions that i have towards this outcome, because the emotions are still very much the same, but rather i've changed the way i choose to show these emotions.
i'm stronger now, mentally and emotionally. though i must admit a lot more weary too because this fight has left me tired. so very tried indeed. this article speaks volumes of the emotions and thoughts that i'm still not yet ready to tell anyone properly in person (except the girl who listened to me that day) because i fear that by saying it personally to the people who care greatly about me, i may end up being the girl i was last year.
i tried hard. and this time i really did. but perhaps it's now time to admit that maybe what i have isn't good enough. or maybe i didn't try super super super duper hard like others, or maybe i'm trying the wrong way. the outcome is not that i didn't improve, it's that what ever improvement i had is
not good enough.
sad isn't it? i find it sad.
because there is a high possibility that i might have to leave this place, after 2 years with
absolutely nothing to show for. absolutely nothing. MJ was my dream, and it still is. i wanted so badly to come here 2 years ago and even with all that i've been through here in the past 18 months, i don't regret it, not one bit.
the people i met, the teachers i was lucky enough to have, the things i learnt. MJ gave that to me. even though life each day was tiring because admit it, everyone says JC is a hell hole, and it may very well be true. but i still wanted to come to school each day. because in the midst of all the crazy (homework, fast paced lectures, assignments, hectic cca, tests), and as cliche as this sounds,
i found joy in learning, i found joy in my everyday mundane and repeating life.
some people have told me that i shouldn't have came here in the first place, that i chose wrong. but regardless of which,
i chose MJ and i'm gonna have to stick to the decisions i make for my own life, bear the consequences, whether they are good or bad. as much as we all would like to run to our parents and stay under their protection when faced with difficulty, there are some things in life where we gotta face ourselves. this is one of them.
and so even though my parents have told me they are not upset with me because they've seen how hard i've tried and even though my family and friends tell me that i can always rely on them, i know i have to do this on my own. if i don't make it up to j2 this year (let's be practical) there are options. options that i've spent the last few days considering, planning and researching on just in case the worst happens.
as my mum often says to me now to comfort me:
"this isn't the end, you're still young. there are options, there will always be options. don't let this pull you down because i know you are still that sheryl who never gives up. you may need to take a longer journey, but what matters most is that in the end you will still get there. i know you will. " i hope my mama's right. a part of me knows she is, but the other part of me thinks she's wrong.
"it's okay to be weak sometimes."
how often is sometimes? how okay is it to be weak? i don't really know actually. but i know that all i can do now is wait, just the same way i did last year. but this time, i'm a lot braver than i thought i was and i'm also more realistic. it's not that i'm nonchalant, it's just that i'm starting to take responsibility for my own life.
until the day my fate is sealed, i shall hope for the best and pray for less sleepless nights. To the people who have expressed care but i haven't had the heart or right state of mind to reply, i'm sorry. i really am. and also, thank you.
