Gripes and Thanks

"If at first you must complain, count your blessings afterward."

The past week or so has been miserable; the restlessness I described in my last post has been replaced with pain and exhaustion, and there are a number of four-letter words I could use to describe my current physical and emotional state. I sit here now, waiting to become comfortable enough to sleep, and recount some things that came to me as I made my way home from class.
I was contemplating how more and more negative things have been reducing the inventory of positive things in my life, and how the well of peace and happiness is running low and I just need to gripe for awhile and get it over with. However, I wondered at myself, if I am so dependent on circumstances to make me happy, and if I need to use people or things to "self-medicate" to make myself less miserable, what am I really made of? When happiness, health, and peace are stripped away and life is just HARD, what do I go on when there is nothing left but the core of my Self? And so I asked God.... and a few simple reminders came: "....the Lord is my strength, a present help in trouble..." "...greater is He that is in you than he that is in the world..." "....what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, and has a purpose for your life even if you don't know what that purpose is yet!" and "...This too shall pass!" And thus I was reminded that this week is Thanksgiving, and one of the best ways to combat the negative is to count the blessings I do have; so, first I must complain a bit, and then I will sweep the Gripes out the door with some Thanks. :-)

Last week my body decided it had had enough of heavy backpacks, bad shoes, hard chairs, long hours at a desk, etc. My back problem became a whole-body problem, as it first put my legs into a constant state of cramp, and then into a state of trembling weakness and spasms, none of which is conducive to walking across a large campus, studying, or sleeping well. As they say, "when it rains it pours," and "misery loves company." I couldn't dance; my new orchids started to die; I got a summons for jury duty in Washington; I got a nasty paper cut on the card from my Grandma; I had a ton of papers to grade and an overwhelming number of tests to study for and papers to write. On top of it all, I had to face the disappointment of a professor over the state of my midterm exam and recent tendency toward tardiness, a dismal state of affairs that I was already ashamed of. It was a painful meeting, where I would have liked to have said "Yes, I understand that I approached this the wrong way, was not sufficiently prepared, and did not meet either of our standards. I got a grade that I have never gotten on a test, so yes I will do the extra credit and will be an exemplary student for the rest of my degree program. Now let me get out of here!" I am used to being an exemplary student in all of my classes, so it is a new experience to have to prioritize which class I will choose to do the best for/focus my energy on. I found that I am the ONLY musicologist-to-be in this school of music, surrounded by a sea of performance majors, and that my musicologist professors expect me to produce work/grades at a much higher level than the rest of the playing field. I understand why, of course, but it is a terrible feeling to doubt myself, to doubt whether I really am capable of making it through a Master's program, to wonder if I can meet their expectations or write as well as I thought I could, and to wonder if I really want to be a professor enough to withstand all the pressures I must go through in the coming weeks and months. I am admittedly a perfectionist, but I can't be perfect all the time, especially when my health fails and I have lost interest in the class I am supposed to be the best in. I am sleep-deprived, in pain, depressed, and to top it off, I have indigestion from the cup of coffee I had before going to my evening class.

Now the Gripes are out, hopefully not a burden for any one person who may read this, but silently collected and carried away by any angels listening in. Now to reverse the negativity by counting blessings, which I hope the angels will remind me of often in the coming days.

The cup of coffee I had, before it made me sick, was the most perfect cup of coffee I have had in a long time. I may have bombed one test, but I did pretty well on a few others, got a big paper revision done and out of the way, and have the next few days to rest and catch up. I may have had a few hard words to swallow from my professors, but at least they are people I respect and want to do my best to please.
Life is hard right now, but it didn't go from hard to harder, more like from "stuck-in-a-rut hard" to "climbing-up-a-cliff-amid-rockslides hard." Last year at this time I was working every holiday as a grocery-store checker, trying to teach young children at the same time, and feeling drained and like I was going nowhere with my abilities. Chronic laryngitis killed my voice, and with it a source of happiness that had kept me going, and the rest of me was out of shape as well. Now, I am struggling with another health problem, but after a relatively long stretch of good health. I have avoided respiratory bugs, gotten into better shape by dancing and stretching regularly, and my voice has returned to what it once was. It is the season for Christmas music, and I get to sing "Noel Nouvelet" and the "Halleluiah Chorus" with a functioning voice. I get to go home for Christmas, for two weeks instead of two days. I have a family to go home to. I have friends to call or write cards to on Thanksgiving.
As for this temporary disability, it is just that, something that I am currently dealing with, will learn to accommodate, and will eventually recuperate from. I have hope of dancing again soon, and I have a kind dance partner who cheers me up and has not abandoned me to go dance with someone else! I am also now better able to empathize with a friend, who has lived with a condition like mine but for her entire life. I think now I know what it feels like to be her, the obstacles she faces in the ordinary things that everyone else takes for granted, like walking up steps, bending over to pick something up, carrying a backpack, or holding oneself upright while feeling like the wind could blow you over. I may have it bad right now, but there are others I know of who are worse off, or whose condition is chronic rather than temporary. Such realizations make me pray better and more often.
Last but not least, I am thankful that here in my blog I have a refuge, a place to let go, and in the process of writing be restored. Here, there are no academic writing requirements, no critics, and the world can be put back into perspective. Next year when I read this post, I'm sure I will have something to be thankful for as I reflect on this part of my journey through grad school. Right now, it serves to remind me that I may not be happy and I may not be physically strong, but God is my strength; the person the world sees when I battle difficult circumstances should not be so different from the one it sees when life is easy and I am enjoying smelling the roses.

Restless Musings

It has come to that time of the term when the excitement has worn off, homework and responsibilities threaten to overwhelm, insomniac nights and weary mornings are a common occurrence, and my mind wanders to thoughts of Christmas vacation.
I am looking forward to a break, and the good things that a visit home will bring: the good company of a faithful old dog, walks to the river, a piano in the living room that I can play whenever I want (or linger to compose, if inspiration hits), the smell of woodsmoke, evergreens, and frosty air, familiar music of the season, Christmas baking and gift-wrapping, holiday traditions, long conversations, quiet moments, and hugs from dear friends and family.
I haven't had a hug for three months, and I probably get a bit grouchier (or weepy) the longer I go without any human contact/affection. I need to find a church soon, and volunteer in the nursery just so I can hold babies and hug little kids who cry for their mothers.; I need them as much or more than they would need me. I miss getting hugs at recess from my young students, who would surround me on my way inside from the music portable; they always knew that, even if we had a disappointing class due to bad behavior or whatever else, I still cared about them and they could always get a good hug out of me. But now they have a new teacher, and I see hundreds of people each day, none of whom I am on hugging terms with. Thank goodness for the girls in my choir, whom I can be a sort of peer mentor to, as well as have that comraderie that one can find in a choir; a choir is family, of sorts.
I have more thoughts, collected over many days, that I need to spill out here; they have been contributing to this restlessness that makes me feel as if I am about to explode with energy that demands I do something, although I'm not exactly sure what. I want to write creatively and descriptively instead of academically, for a change. Part of this restless feeling is due to being forced into sitting-at-a-desk posture for too many hours of the day, when I would rather be active. Several recent events have reminded me how much I miss dancing, and the inner gymnast has also been screaming for release much more often now that I am regaining flexibility and energy. Salsa and Ballroom dancing have helped to channel that energy, but I find myself needing additional ways to release all that is pent up inside. Years of training in precise movement, attention to detail, spatial awareness, expressive gesture, becoming an embodiment of music, and self-discipline don't just go away when you grow up, you still remember how it felt, and there is a haunting sense of loss because you just don't have opportunities to move like that in everyday life. For some people, the past experience becomes just a pleasant memory; for me, it is an engrained part of my identity that only sleeps at times when it is ignored.
This restlessness leads me to sing in stairwells, walk barefoot on the grass, go for walks at night, do split leaps on curbs when no-one is watching, and write blogs in my mind while trying to fall asleep. I turn off music and listen in the silence, get lost in thoughts, and under it all lies this desire to do something. I want to write a book, write music, make some art, capture a moment of beauty or authenticity in a photograph....there is so much that just has to wait for now.
I feel like I am getting ready for something good, besides just going through all the work -which is worthwhile, of course- of getting a degree, but I'm not sure what... Maybe it is just a reawakening, a coming back to life, a rediscovery of possibilities, of finding that the door to the future is open again and I am enjoying going through it.