Sometimes. . . sometimes it is hard not to be bitter. Or a sad. Or even a bit frustrated. Today is one of those days. I generally try to avoid self-pity, but today every part of me just wants to give in to the urge to kick something over and cry. To sulk in a corner and demand "When is it my turn? Why me? " It has been a long and frustrating semester. Forget that - it has been a long and frustrating three years. I feel as though I want a very few things.
To feel safe. At this point, I don't really care if I actually am safe. I'd just like to feel that way.
To go without injury.
To take my classes, work at my jobs, and go to rehearsals.
In conjunction with that, to get the GPA I deserve, the pay I've earned, and the benefit of stage time.
To make enough money not to starve, freeze, or be unable to contribute to the collection basket at church.
To perform. I am, after all, a performing arts major at a performing arts school. And yet there are seemingly endless obstacles, rejections, or issues.
I would like to go to sleep at night without fear, and wake in the morning without pain. I'm tired of fearing the shadows, the corners, the back alleys. I wish to walk home after a late rehearsal or study session and not need a friend to walk with me, tense and alert for danger from both strangers and those who are supposed to be my family.
I feel dissatisfied with myself, with my performance chances. I know there are elements of theatre and dance that despite being 21 (old for a performer) I'm still new at. That I won't get it every time. . . but I would like to get it some of the time. You win some, you loose some. May I win some, please?
I know what I need to do. I need to thank God for these obstacles, each and everyone, because they are there to make me stronger. I need to focus on bettering myself and not worrying about the outside world. I need to ask my faculty for more advice, guidance, more pointed criticisms and focused goals so I can excel better. And finally, I think tonight I need to go to my room and cry for awhile. Just until I fall asleep. Just until tomorrow.
Than I will be back to myself. . . at least, I will be back onto the path we're all on. The path to finding ourselves. This sadness, anxiety, loneliness. This doubt. It is all just a step off the path, a rock to rest on, weep on, and move on from.
I'll lay my burdens here tonight Lord, just for awhile. I promise to be stronger when I awake.