(no subject)
I'm feeling sorry for myself again. I feel compelled to do this now and then, particularly when I receive my grades. I suppose I have nobody to blame but myself; after all, I skipped a lot of class and neglected my homework. Nevertheless, it's always a slap in the face. I can't help doubting my abilities as an up-and-coming lawyer. Me? A lawyer? No way. I'm entirely disenchanted with the prospect. When I think about taking the bar, it makes me sick to my stomach. Can I do this thing? I don't know. Everybody says I need to be more optimistic, but it's easier said than done. It's so much easier to cling to my fear than to actually accomplish the task at hand, to set my mind to something and risk failure. I gain nothing, but I risk nothing in the process either; maybe that's why I'm such a mediocre student.
My saving grace is my performance in my writing-based classes. My grades in those classes see me through; they give me some shred of confidence in my abilities. But unfortunately my grade on my last paper wasn't what I'd hoped or expected - hence my depression. I can't even seem to get that right either. *Sigh*
On my way to work this morning, I forced myself to accentuate the positive, so to speak - to focus on the things that I've got going for me. That I'm a good person who cares about people; that I love easily and freely; that, though my expectations of people are high, my willingness to accept their shortcomings is boundless; and, above all, that I'm loved, despite my numerous flaws. I'm loved, and I'm not alone in this world. These things I silently chanted to myself as I drove to work.
I've been told that helping other people cures depression. So I took extra care with the people calling into the crime victims clinic this morning. I listened ever so attentively, allowing them to unload their burden upon me. I spoke kindly, and tried to sound encouraging about their bleak circumstances. And when a woman, whose daughter had been shot this past Saturday, cried softly into the telephone, I quietly wept with her. I thought to myself: This is real suffering, and I have been spared. My life is so easy. Unlike many of those who call into the clinic, neither my loved ones nor myself have been shot, stabbed, molested, or raped. I remain unharmed.
Suffice it to say, I'm done feeling sorry for myself. Maybe I don't excel at this whole law school thing, and maybe I won't be a successful attorney - but maybe I will. At least there's the possibility. At least I have gone through life mostly unscathed. I'm alive and I'm whole and that's all that matters.
My saving grace is my performance in my writing-based classes. My grades in those classes see me through; they give me some shred of confidence in my abilities. But unfortunately my grade on my last paper wasn't what I'd hoped or expected - hence my depression. I can't even seem to get that right either. *Sigh*
On my way to work this morning, I forced myself to accentuate the positive, so to speak - to focus on the things that I've got going for me. That I'm a good person who cares about people; that I love easily and freely; that, though my expectations of people are high, my willingness to accept their shortcomings is boundless; and, above all, that I'm loved, despite my numerous flaws. I'm loved, and I'm not alone in this world. These things I silently chanted to myself as I drove to work.
I've been told that helping other people cures depression. So I took extra care with the people calling into the crime victims clinic this morning. I listened ever so attentively, allowing them to unload their burden upon me. I spoke kindly, and tried to sound encouraging about their bleak circumstances. And when a woman, whose daughter had been shot this past Saturday, cried softly into the telephone, I quietly wept with her. I thought to myself: This is real suffering, and I have been spared. My life is so easy. Unlike many of those who call into the clinic, neither my loved ones nor myself have been shot, stabbed, molested, or raped. I remain unharmed.
Suffice it to say, I'm done feeling sorry for myself. Maybe I don't excel at this whole law school thing, and maybe I won't be a successful attorney - but maybe I will. At least there's the possibility. At least I have gone through life mostly unscathed. I'm alive and I'm whole and that's all that matters.