The Day I Let Go

“I need to talk to you for a second, sit down”

I sat down on the chair.

“All your cousins are very successful and I don’t mean to pressure you, but don’t be at the bottom”.

I first I was in shock. Did my mother actually just say this to me? Then came the disbelief. No she didn’t. Then came the realisation. She actually just said that! Then came the anger. How could she say that?!

I was angry. Very angry. Never in a billion years did I expect my God loving mother to say something as shallow as that, but I should have expected it. It made sense, she’s always been this shallow about money and status, why am I surprised?

I think I was mostly hurt by the fact that she could stoop so low to say and believe something so secular. And also by the fact that after everything I have gone through with changing a degree, she decides to change her mind and say that I can no longer pursue a career I want, but I have to change to a career that will make the most money which can buy me the best material possessions. Those things will make you the most happy Emma, those things will make you the most successful so then I can show off to all your aunts and uncles and say “my child is better than yours!”

Oh, and don’t ever forget Emma that having a rich and successful husband will make you the happiest! Then you will have all you need!

I spent 1 and a half years of my recent life seeing a counselor. For the longest time I was so stressed and almost depressed by the fact that I can never live up to people’s expectations of me. Now my own mother, who was there by my side, listening very clearly to all these stories was telling me otherwise? Telling me that whatever I do will very clearly never be enough for her?

---

On January 1st 2019 as I was writing New Years Resolutions I realised something,

I was happy.

Never before had I ever thought that I was happy, but there I was sitting at my desk.

I was happy so so so so happy and it wasn’t because of anything anyone else had done! It wasn’t because I had won the lottery, or got an A+ grade, or been the best at anything or achieved anything at all! It wasn’t because I got a nice boyfriend or traveled round the world or helped an old lady cross the street, or pet a dog! None of that!

I was simply happy because I chose to be.

That was the greatest day of my life.

---

Fast forward and there I was sitting in my car, crying in disbelief about what my other had just said to me. I thought about calling a friend and telling them about what my other had just said. I thought about how my father had watched me crying in my room and said “yeah she’s harsh” and then walked away. I thought about how my mother would tell my brother the same thing that evening. I thought about what my mother must have felt when I had changed my degree.

Then I prayed.

God and I both know that there’s three reasons why I don’t have a boyfriend.

1. I am content with myself and am not in a desperate attempt to be with someone who will not add value to my life (sorry not sorry).
2. I am scared of relationships and the harm it might cause the other person and I. Every time I watch my parents fight it just makes my urge to be alone and happy  stronger.
3. I’m rebelling against my mother’s wishes for me to be in a relationship.

As I spoke these words aloud tears burst out of my eyes and ran down my face. I suddenly realised I was laughing tears of joy. I knew I was happy and I knew God was happy with me. Then I realised there was also tears of sadness. That I didn’t have someone yet to share my life with.

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My definition of success is far different from my mother’s. To her, being successful means having money, a picture perfect family, stability and material possessions. To me, success is achieving God’s plan for my life and I am willing to go whichever way to get there.

 

The Boy Who Taught Me Love

I’m writing this because I can’t stop thinking about you. To say I miss you is an understatement.

Where do I begin? With the day I first met you I suppose. I knew your name before your face, but I am so glad I got to know more than those two things. I got to know you. When I met you, another boy was annoying me, trying ask me out on a date  which I didn’t want. You had to login on my phone so it made it look like you were putting your number in my phone which made that guy stop and I’m grateful for that. That night you texted me and asked me out for coffee to get to know me better and I was so scared of you and your intentions I said no.

But somehow we hit it off. You were down right funny and I loved the sense of humour your brought into situations and into my life. In group conversations now, I find myself waiting for your meme-y comments and when they don’t come I remember you’re not here and my heart hurts a little.

After our first meeting was a series of weird flirting moments. I liked you to a degree and when you flirted with me, I flirted back. Then our other friend stepped in and told us to stop because he knew we weren’t right for each other. Eventually we established our relationship and continued to flirt despite being just friends.

It was an unusual relationship which confused many people including us at first. We would flirt a lot but it never led to anything more. Some described it as “a thing”, others described it as a “brother-sister relationship”. I enjoyed what you gave me. You treated me as special and gave me attention. I’ll admit, I was very shocked when I found out you were secretly sleeping with our friend. But I’d like to think deep down you respected and loved me in a way that you didn’t with other girls. Yes, in some ways I do feel like I was just another girl, but you treated me differently to other guys and I appreciated that. You respected my wants and needs, honoured me as a person and never crossed the lines.

I guess from all of this you taught me a lot about relationships.

Firstly, you taught me about about respect in a relationship. I used to let guys treat me how they wanted and never voiced my rights because I didn’t understand that it’s okay to set boundaries. Now I know what a guy respecting you feels like and I will never let anyone do otherwise. In some ways you gave the the boyfriend experience without actually being my boyfriend and that was really valuable for me because I’ve never been in a real relationship before.

Secondly you taught me how to be vulnerable. I sickens me to admit but… I am afraid of commitment. I suppose that’s why I’m a serial flirt who’s afraid to let anyone in. You were the only guy I let my walls down around. It sounds strange because honestly, I didn’t even let my walls down very far. But that was enough for me to see that being vulnerable is okay. It’s scary, but it’s okay. Christian guys would never flirt like secular guys but are eventually looking for a serious relationship, and secular guys will flirt but always want sex. You gave me the happy in between which I so badly wanted and needed. After you left, I realised no one else in my life can give to me the way you did and that were the most respectful guy I had met. Never in a million years would I ever date you, a cynical, alcoholic atheist, but somehow I had given a piece of me that I could never get back and to be honest, I don’t regret it one bit.

Lastly, you taught me to never settle for anything less than what God has for me; which is a strange thing to write since you’re an atheist but it’s true. You taught me that good guys are out there and that if a secular guy like you can be that respectful and nice, I’m 100% sure a Christian guy can be too.

Among these things you also taught me about life. You often told me off for being immature and childish and I was so ashamed but also thankful for you calling me out. You taught me to grow up, to stop being a crazy baby and start being an adult. You taught me to have fun and to not take life so seriously and I’m thankful for learning something new about life from you.

I’m going to be honest. My heart broke when you left. I knew you leaving was inevitable but even in the months, weeks and days leading up to your departure I cried a lot. I dreamed about you twice too, I shouldn’t be sentimental but it was so real like you were here again and that was nice. I know we’ll see each other again someday and I hope with all my heart that we can still have what we had. Even so, I don’t know if I want to pick up where we left off. I’m almost scared to see you again. I don’t know. Thank you, I guess. For everything. I miss you. See you in the comment section of the meme pages 🙂

The End of This Chapter

Today marks a very sad day.

Today I threw out all my paper-work from my practicums. It was not easy. For a long time I didn’t want to throw any of it out because I paid good money to go to university to learn all of that. I spent weeks typing out those words, searching for those resources and planning all those lessons, so I didn’t want to throw it all away.

But today I did.

It was taking up way too much space in my room. Truthfully it was also bringing back hurtful and painful memories. Memories of my literal failure (in my grades) and also failure in myself.

It killed me every time I looked at those pieces of paper. Each leaf carried a weight with it. Each symbolised passion, dreams, pride, stress, hurt, regret, stubbornness, sleepless nights, the desire to prove to myself and others that I can do anything, wounds dug deep, scars not quite healed and the love burning for each and every child in all the classes I ever was in.

I never wanted to let those pieces of paper go. I desperately wanted to cling to them, clutching them so tightly that they crumple in my white-knuckled hands; in the hopes that maybe one day I might need them again. But I know that’s not the reality and it most likely never will be.

With every sheet that I put in the bin today, my heart ripped slowly into two. I shed tear after tear as I remembered the good memories and the bad, the love and the fear that embedded themselves deeply into my soul.

To other people, they’re just sheets of paper, made expensive by thousand dollar University fees. To me, they can be bound together representing a chapter of my life.

It pains me. So fucking much. I don’t want it to be over. I’m not ready. I can’t do this. I’m so afraid. I don’t want to let go. But I know it’s too late, it’s already over.

Sometimes, I catch myself thinking that I threw away the entire book. Most times, it feels like it. I tell myself that the end of the story is far from here, that there is much more to write, but most times, it doesn’t feel like it.

I Quit University

So. This is it. I have so much to say, and so many thoughts racing through my head but I can’t quite seem to put them all together properly.

In July I was on a placement in a local school, working with 9 and 10 year olds. They were so lovely and I loved every single one to pieces. My teachers were wonderful too, so kind and supportive.

But there was one major flaw. I wasn’t doing the job right. No matter how hard I tried, I wasn’t making the teacher thing happen, and the students weren’t really learning. I tried, I really did. Everyone knew and acknowledged this, but after meeting with my classroom teachers and a lecturer from my university, they told me that there was still a lot I needed to do to pass and were even talking about extending the practicum. But I knew, deep down in my heart, that the reason for this all was because I was just not passionate about teaching. If I went on at this rate, I would probably get burnout by the end of my first year. I just wasn’t cut out for it.

It hurts to know this for many reasons. This is the second time that I have done this placement. After my failure last time, I went into this one, all guns blazing, ready to pass and do amazingly well. But things don’t go to plan. (Do they ever?) I tried as I might but it just didn’t happen the way I had planned. My meeting was on a Friday morning. I had one week left to go of my placement before I would officially finish. But the meeting brought me to tears and so I slipped away into nothingness.

What hurt me the most was the fact that I disappointed myself. I had high expectations of myself going into the practicum but I failed against them and that made me angry and frustrated. The first time I did this placement, my teacher told me that I should reconsider what I was teaching. She was unsupportive and hurtful. I set out to prove her wrong. Failing made me so angry because it means she was right and I didn’t want someone who killed me to be right.

It hurt me seeing other teachers, and my close friends succeed while I was left in the dust. Why can’t I be like them? I know we aren’t all the same, and maybe that means that I am meant to do something else, but what is that something else??

I am so so sorry to my class. I am so scared I wasted their time. When I left, I gave them a poem about how they are stars shining bright in the sky. I wanted to encourage them and tell them how important they are. Even if they learnt nothing from me about maths or writing, I hope they learnt just how important they are.

What makes me most angry, even though it’s only been a week since I left, is when people question me why I quit. “Why didn’t you do this? Why didn’t you do that? Did you ask for feedback for improvement?”

No shit Sherlock. Of course I fucking did!

I tried my hardest and I failed. I tried my hardest and I didn’t succeed. I tried my hardest and I found out that I actually don’t like teaching. Isn’t that a good enough answer? Stop making me second guess my decision.

–

The real reason I did teaching was because I wanted to use it as a base degree to pursue something else. But to get through that without being passionate enough about it was probably one of the hardest things I have ever had to face. I don’t discount anything though. This whole three year experience pushed me and stretched me so much more than I could ever imagine. It shaped me, molded me and grew me into the person I am now and I am so grateful for that.

–

I suppose I have mixed feelings about it all. Mostly depressed thoughts. For the first few weeks afterwards I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t wake, couldn’t eat, couldn’t move. I cried a lot. I still do now. Confusion, anger, regret, frustration, pain, anxiety, emptiness, loneliness. People don’t seem to get it. I try to explain but it doesn’t make sense to them, and so their ignorance is another careless stab to my already bleeding body.

–

I’m feeling kind of hopeless. The world keeps turning but mine has stopped. I try to find a reason to wake up but there is none. My whole world has turned on its head, a huge chunk has fallen right out of the bottom. Three years of my life dedicated to a goal only to suddenly realise that it’s gone. I lay in bed for hours. I tie my hair and put on “real clothes”. My boss asks me if I am okay. I don’t know how to answer.

My counsellor gives me advice, a calm listening ear amidst all the chaos. My friends tell me they are here for me. As days and months pass I don’t feel better. I lost a piece of my life. It hurts. It happened at the same time that I ended my term on committee. Double loss, double hurt. Pressure to move on and try something new is leering behind me with smelly breath. I can feel it getting closer. I don’t know what I want. Why do you care?

I’m afraid of the future. What if I lose it all again?

How to be Brave. (A note to self)

Going into my next placement was scary but I was not afraid. I prepared, I psyched myself up, I worked hard to get into the mindset of being a teacher.

Week 1 was good.

Now it is week 2 and on Monday I had to teach my first lesson. Needless to say, I was freaking out. Anxiety spurred on by my failure from last year as well as feedback on my planning from my kind by stern associate teachers this year shook my confidence just hours before I was meant to teach my group.

My hands were shaking as I sat down slowly in front of 4 ten year olds. They eagerly got out their books, and they clicked their pens repetitively, usually a sign of nervousness, but their faces relaxed, calm and unfazed as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

“Hey guys” I started, hoping my voice wasn’t awkward or shaking.

“Today we are going to be reading this book.” I proudly revealed the journal story sitting next to my laptop. My new-found confidence was quickly shattered.

“We’ve already read this book” one kid said.

“Yeah, we read it last week.”

My head started to spin. What should I do? All my planning for nothing?

Going into this practicum was not easy. So many voices of doubt swirled through my head, making my ability to think clearly and act confidently clouded. I wanted to succeed, I want to do well, I want to be a good teacher. AND I WILL.

I am confident

I am a teacher

I am here to learn

I am an adult

I am not shy

I am not scared

I am not afraid

I will ask questions

I will search for answers

I will listen to feedback

I will critically reflect on my practice and the feedback I receive

I will improve my practice for next time.

This is a fresh start

I am a different person

I am a teacher

I didn’t come to play.

I am a professional

I am powerful

I am a leader

I am strong

It’s okay to make mistakes

Don’t let people take advantage of you

But let all your actions grow out of love.

Own it. Own your identity. Own your mistakes. Own your values. Own your passions. Own your body. Own it.

Even if it scares you. Even if you’re shy. Even if you feel judged. Even if you might be judged. Even if you feel it’s not a part of you yet. Own it.

It is who you are. Don’t apologise for or be afraid of who you are.

And most importantly of all act as if what you do makes a difference. Because it does.

To All The Boys I Ever Loved:

This is not a sappy love story.

Angel.

From the moment I met you, I knew I liked you. There was something about you that drew me in. Your cute dimples and charming eyes won me over. You knew how to have fun and make me laugh, and being around you always made my heart beat faster. But as we grew older, we had less time for each other and we slowly grew apart. I sometimes see you on the street and I wonder what it would be like if we still talked. I wonder if you are the same person, because I know I am not. You look so happy with your girlfriend, and that truly makes me happy too.

Player.

I have one question. Was what we had real? I watched you perform the other day and after you finished, you kissed another girl on stage. It hurt, seeing you. I didn’t really want to watch your show, but I did. You really do have a talent for music. I can’t stand your haircut though, and you are far too serious all the time. But you have pretty eyes and you cook good food. One day you are going to be famous and rich. I wonder if you’ll remember me then, or if you even remember me now.

Dreamboat.

If only things were different. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t rushed things, but given it time. There was so much you didn’t know and I wish I didn’t either. There was so much I wish I had said but I didn’t. We were both too young. I should have walked away when I had the chance. Maybe then, we could be something now. I sometimes look at your social media account. You are still as handsome as ever. I wonder if you’ve grown up a bit like me? Sometimes I hope we could see each other again, but too much happened between us that can’t be forgotten.

Boy Next Door

You make me think wild thoughts. I remember the day we met like it was yesterday. Then we met again, that summer’s day. I was so shy. You were so charming, it made me more than uncomfortable but secretly I liked that about you. Then again, that rainy night. I swear every time we meet it’s like a scene from a movie. So cheesy and romantic, and we both play along. You make all my movie romance fantasies come true. My parents will dislike me ever seeing you again though.

Oppa.

I loved you. I still do. It’s funny though, because as a boyfriend, you are most definitely not my type. I’m sorry that I got in the way of you and that girl who liked you. I guess I was too scared that you wouldn’t care about me anymore. But now I realize that it is possible to love two people at the same time. I shouldn’t have worried because I know now that you loved me, and still do too. The elephant is always in the room. You are smart. You are wise. You are forgiving. And you are loyal. I am so sorry.

Bigfoot.

You are such an embarrassment. That is both and insult and a compliment. You don’t care what other people think of you, and I admire that; but unfortunately I do, and so whenever I’m with you I wish I could be invisible. You have a certain charm about you that draws me into you. I loved you. I really did. But I guess you didn’t love me. It was all a lie wasn’t it. When I found out that you were in love with someone else my heart broke. You deserved to be revealed in front of me though. I hope you feel guilty. I still dream about you sometimes. Which is really weird. I don’t want to. In some fleeting moments I miss you, but then I remember why I hate you. I forgive you though.

Mr Perfect.

After Bigfoot, I met you and I liked you. You are handsome, tall, funny, smart, talented, not really ambitious though, but remarkably, you fulfill every requirement on my List. You are quite literally perfect. Unfortunately, I couldn’t seem to wrap my head around that fact that I am not. I tried to be someone you would like, rather than just being myself, and in that I lost you. It’s funny, I was so scared of losing you, that I did. You thought I was fake, and I was. I’m kind of embarrassed about that honestly. In the beginning, that was the real me, and I know that you liked her. I suppose it was for the better that we aren’t together anymore. You were a distraction from the truth. And now that you are gone, things are coming right again. Even so, it’s hard to accept you are falling for someone else. Will I see you again? I hope that I can one day show you who the real me is.

I Am Weak.

After all this time, all the pain, all the hurt; then the empty numbness, I just want to move on. I want the tears to stop and feel the lightness on my shoulders.

I want to be free. I want to be happy.

But life holds me back. It chokes me, kills me, suffocates me until I can’t breathe and I feel like I can’t possibly go on. The words people throw at me, the hatred, the anger, the disgust; it slowly kills me, dragging me deeper and deeper into the depths of death.

I want the pain to be gone, I want a reason to smile.

But I can’t seem to find one.

The python slowly chokes me, squeezing the tears out of me, painfully! One. By. One. I try to hold them back. “You are stronger than this!” I tell myself. “Don’t let this take over you!”

But there comes a point when it is all too much, the breaking point. The point when you cross the line.

And suddenly it all comes out like the gushing of a waterfall, the explosion of a gyser. In an unflattering epic mess, I collapse, the pain a bursting, searing heat burning everyone in my path.

I am weak, I am not strong.

A strong woman does not bend or break to the words of her enemies. No. No. NO. But that woman is not me. I am not strong. I am weak. A broken human. Nothing to give, nothing to take, empty and void. Searching for the parts of me that don’t exist, searching for the strength which I don’t have.

When will I stop crying?

When can I just be free from the pain?

What will it take to be the woman I want to be?

Good Grief – Living With a Depressed Person

**Apologies for not posting sooner, my computer decided it was a fantastic time to die on me and so I lost all my work, photos and drafts for posts on my blog!! *cries* That is sad, yes, but that is not what I am about to write about today. Recently I have started seeing a counsellor to help me get through the things I have been dealing with. 

The following is an honest reflection of the past 8 months of my life, living with someone who has depression.

At the end of last year, my mum got burn-out and depression and my life as I knew it fell apart in a matter of days. My mum was the leader of our household and my supporter and my role model. She went from being a strong unstoppable woman to being a baby that I had to take care of. Suddenly it was like she no-longer existed and physically she started fading away too. It was like I’d lost my mum; or at least the woman she used to be.

I never understood how I’d felt about this, all I knew was that I was angry and sad and lost all the time. Only after my visit to the counsellor was I able to make sense of what was going on inside of me this past 8 months. I have been grieving.

When my mum first got sick, I went into shock. When you are faced with a trauma, our responses can be either to fight, flee or freeze. I froze. My body shut down and I wasn’t able to do things; mentally and physically. I wasn’t able to take action. I felt stuck, paralysed and lost. What I needed most was my mum. I needed her support, I needed her to help pick me up, I needed her to tell me what to do to get out of that situation, I needed her to tell me that everything was going to be okay. But she couldn’t. She was like a small baby, crying 24/7, needing me to care for her. It was like a switch of roles. I needed to be her mother because she needed me more. Often, she would come into my room while I was doing my homework and ask me to lay on my bed with her and sleep. She would want to do things to try be proactive and have some control in her life, but she couldn’t because she was too tired. This meant she, and therefore my dad, would nag me again and again to do particular things, but I couldn’t because I was still in shock.

I busied myself with other things such as reading and watching YouTube and TV shows. This helped me to take my mind off what was going on and I was able to distract myself from the reality I was facing. This was the denial stage. I didn’t want to believe that what was happening was real, that my mum was no-longer there; mentally, physically and as the woman and mother she was.

When I saw my mum crying all the time I felt sad too. I felt so hopeless that I couldn’t help her, that I couldn’t make her better, that I couldn’t do anything to ease the awfulness she was feeling. I cried because I could not bear to see her crying. I cried because she was not there for me too.That was another stage of the grieving process. Crying over what you lost (your life, your loved one), your uselessness and your empathy for the other person.

Flee. Another one of the responses to trauma. I began to leave the house when I had the chance in order to escape from what was happening. Hanging out with my friends gave me time and space to laugh. Although I never told them anything, they were always there for me. They made me smile during my troubles and I was able to enjoy being with people when I was living in a house that was so so heavy.

5 months later, my mum began to get better. The right medication had been found and it was starting to work. At this point she had lost 10kgs and was just a shadow of her former self. She began to smile more and talk more and even laugh. But even though she was better, she was grouchy a lot of the time and still wasn’t fully her usual self.

I never really knew it at the time, but at this point I realised I was free to be angry. During those first 5 months, I wasn’t allowed to be angry or sad because that would make my mum more depressed. Now that she was getting better, I realised I could be angry, and thus began the next stage of grief. Fight. I was angry all the time, at everyone and everything. I was irritable, mad and grumpy. And to be honest, I liked it. It was fun. It was satisfying to let all my pain out. (It sounds so so awful to say but honesty is the purpose of this post).

As my mum slowly began to be more of herself again, everything in my life began to fall back into place. I got a car, had driving lessons, got a job, started my next semester at university. But I was still angry. This anger got particularly bad when some friends, from different places and situations hurt me and ruined everything. I was SO mad at them and it’s still taking me a while to forgive them. I guess what I needed most from them at the time was support but instead they disrespected me, used me and completely disregarded my feelings which hurt A LOT. I will need to process everything before I can face them again but it will come one day. I just need time.

Now my mum is back to her old self. Or so I thought. Recently she started slipping back down the slope again and it’s so terrifying to see. To be honest the feeling I feel most right now is frustration. Why does she have to go and get sick again? Why does my life have to be ruined again? This is another part of the grieving process. Frustration. People who lose a loved one often ask these questions. Now my dad says he doesn’t know if he can deal with my mum getting sick again. He wants me to do more work around the home. Does he not realise that I have 12hr days only to have to do more school work in the evening too? Does my family not consider how I feel? My brother also has a quick wit and says very awful comments to and about me and that has also contributed to my problems. I feel like if my mum were to get sick again, I would be going through the flee phase the most now. Not out of choice, but out of prediction.

This is the story of how I ended up being reduced to a sobbing mess on the side of a rural road on a sweltering October day.

So that is that. This has been my life over the past 8 months living with someone who has depression. It is one of the hardest things I have ever had to deal with, and my life will never be the same again. This is my story so please don’t judge. It’s taken a long time for me to deal with and share this and your story might not be the same, but this is mine. A lot of it still doesn’t make sense to me but one day it will. What I would say to someone in the same situation is, take care of yourself too. Your loved one needs you, but you also need you. Grief is healthy. Talk to someone. Take care, and hold on to hope.

Now That I’m 19

*The main reason I wanted to write this is so that I can look back at this 10 years from now I can see how much I’ve changed and keep this moment in a time capsule.

Two weeks ago I had my 19^th birthday and honestly, it was quite a surreal moment. I remember when I turned 15 (that was the age to be!) and I looked at the 19 year olds in my life and thought “Wow, they are SO old. I can’t ever imagine being that old. When I’m 19, I’m going to be an adult with a real life! I’m going to have a car, a job, and move out of home and live with my best friend, and go to university, have a boyfriend, drink coffee, and buy nice clothes.” Now here I am, 19 years old, with less than half of these things, and still not as cool as I wish I could be hahahaha. In all seriousness, I am still nowhere close to being the version of myself that I aspire to be. It’s so much harder than it appears.

I imagined myself to be so much more organised and… older than I am now. Although I have grown dramatically over this past year, which I am grateful for, I am still so far away from being the person I want to be, which is very frustrating. I know that will come eventually, but it’s still very disheartening.

In a way I also guess that what I perceived to be “grown up” when I was 15, doesn’t really mean much to me now. I imagined myself to be a COMPLETELY different person that has got it all together and has the perfect life. But over these past four years as I’ve grown, I realised that growing up doesn’t mean you change from a Squirtle to a Charizard, you evolve to become a better version of you, and become a mean as Blastoise. #pokemonreference (To be honest I don’t know, and don’t think I’ll ever become a Blastoise and that scares me a little, I’m worried I’ll stay being a Wartortle forever? Stay tuned, I could write a whole other post on this topic!)

Around New Years and my birthday, I choose a word of the year; I started doing this in 2013. I suppose it’s a goal or an area of myself that I aspire to grow in in my year ahead. It’s interesting to do this every year and see how it changes me. I could write for hours and hours about these goals but that would tire me and bore you, so I’ll just give a little summary.

Challenge and Change (2013)
This was at a time in my life when I was coming out of being a teenager and into young adulthood. I wanted to face challenges in a new way and become stronger and therefore change myself, my attitudes and my mindset. From this I could impact my family and the people around me in a more positive way.

Growth and Maturity (2014 and 2015)
During my final year of high school I don’t remember much about this. I grew as a leader in my school being a senior student, and I think that prepared me for the massive jump that university would bring. When I started my first year of university I want to no longer be the childish naïve me that I was before, but instead become wiser, experience life and grow into being an adult. This was so important to me, for many reasons, to prove my family and friends wrong, to be a better me, and most of all for the purpose of my degree. (I am studying to be a teacher and so I wanted to know that I can teach the students, rather than be one of them). (I don’t think I stuck to it very well in 2014 which is why I continued it to 2015).

Confidence and Courage (2016)
In some ways, this is what I’m lacking. After going to a lot of interviews and meeting new people, I had to talk like a professional and like a leader. To be honest I felt awkward and shy. Sometimes I wake up and I am just not happy with myself and can’t approach people or situations feeling like Sasha Fierce. I want to have confidence and courage so that when I walk in to a room I can smile with confidence, knowing who I am and what to say.

So, happy 19^th birthday to me. Hip hip hooray!

Next year, I turn 20 (OMG?!?!). I will write another post like this and we can compare and see what has changed and what hasn’t hahaha. I wonder what next year’s phrase will be? What might yours be?

 

Role Model – The letter I want to write…

This letter is written to one of my high school friends who I admire more than anyone else.

Dear Friend,

You are such wonderful person. Sometimes I wonder how one person can have so much beauty in their heart. As far as I can see from the outside, you have a stable family and lovely family relationships. I wish I could be like you. How do you treat everyone with such kindness and grace? You are honestly the definition of beauty, inside and out. You are so humble and selfless, so caring and sweet, so funny and loving, so responsible and mature, so ambitious and friendly. When I look at you I get jealous I admit, but I also get so emotional because you treat someone like me, with an ugly heart, with such love and care. You say I am the one who is beautiful. You say I am the one who is kind and sweet and selfless. Honestly, I don’t see it. Maybe it’s because no one has really told me that, or maybe it’s because I am ugly on the inside and you’re just saying those things to be nice. It makes me cry when you say those things to me because I can’t understand how you see those things in me. It makes me cry because I desperately want all that you say to be true. You are such a beautiful human being. I marvel at how you can see the good in others, and in me, when I cannot see it myself. I need you to teach me those traits that you have.

Last year, when I graduated, either of us could have won the cup for that class we took together. But you won it. I was so angry. I really wanted to win it because I never got any award in my whole time at high school and I thought that maybe that year I had a chance. But you won it. I was angry because I thought I deserved it. The truth is, you deserved it more than anyone. If you’re reading this, please don’t feel bad. You really REALLY are the most deserving person I know.

For your birthday you raised money and gifts for people who couldn’t afford it, and donated them all. I felt so guilty when my friends gave me gifts for my birthday. I couldn’t bear to even use them after that.

The funniest thing about this all is that you are younger than me, by more than a year I might add. If you were my sibling, I think my parents would say to me “Oh Emma, why can’t you be more like your sister?”

Every time I hang out with you, talk to you, or look at your like updates on social media, I get frustrated, sad and in awe all at the same time. Everyone wants to be your friend, and you want to be all of their friends back. You will go far in life. I will probably forever be stuck at the crossroads. Most of the time, I am impatient, stubborn, lazy, messy, unmotivated, selfish and rude. You are honestly perfect.

Words cannot express how much I admire you, and how much my life has changed ever since I met you. One day, I hope to be as an amazing of a person as you are.

Love,

Emma