semesters end

I think I cried myself to sleep again, but to be sure I'll have to ask Caitie. At any rate I know I cried a lot throughout the evening, starting when I met Emilie on campus at 4. Usually it was after a mention of homework or jobs or housing, but sometimes it was after questions of other sorts and once it was during Gilmore Girls. But last night I got a perspective on my tears. (I love being analytical and emotional at the same time!) It is because I am trying. All the messes in which I have invested myself for the next three weeks, I have invested in fully. Those semesters when I have failed (and I don't mean just school) are those in which I haven't cried toward the end.

My first semester I fell apart for a couple of days, until my home teachers came over to read me a quote they liked from President Hinkley. "Now, my dear sisters, that is the way with you. You are doing the best you can, and that best results in good to yourself and to others. Do not nag yourself with a sense of failure. Get on your knees and ask for the blessings of the Lord; then stand on your feet and do what you are asked to do. Then leave the matter in the hands of the Lord. You will discover that you have accomplished something beyond price."

The next semester my mom called as I worked on papers in the last weeks of April. I sobbed uncontrollably on the phone. I wanted to be done. I wanted to leave, to go home to my mom and give up. That is how I feel now. I got an email from my mom this morning that says she misses me and is happy I'll be home soon. I want very much to drop out of school this moment, fly to Texas and take up permanent residence with my mom. I want to be a little girl again. Yet, in my head I have these heroic dreams for myself. I see me sitting up at night in the library faithfully studying and writing papers. Those images don't coincide with me crawling into bed exhausted or frustratedly revising a paper half an hour before it's due. I am tormented with the idea that I could be doing it better.

Other semesters it has not been this way. Two of them ended without struggle. Of course, those two I gave up on somewhere in the middle. These weeks of finals were spent making spaghetti and fried chicken (separate meals) to feed those who were studying. One semester I bought books and fudge and walked happily in the rain. I had it easy, because I was not fighting against anything. I was not fighting for anything. But now I am fighting for a lot. And I will win. I'll just have a few minor breakdowns in the meanwhile.