Honest Lies – Page 38 – "Okay, so I'm the dragon. Big deal. You still get to be the hero."

Welcome! Honest Lies is the personal site of a 26 year old graduate electrical engineer living in the UK. Covering every day life, books and various other randomness. Read more about me and the site here.

“Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on.”

Intermission: I’ve been lying to myself for a long time.

Do you ever have those moments where you realise that? Where you find yourself detached from the situation, from yourself, and you realise things that should be so obvious.

Two weeks ago I had one of those moments. One of those moments of clarity, resurfacing from a haze of denial to realise how messed up things had become. I realised – and over the course of these long, wretched two weeks, that I still have problems with mental health. In march next year, it would have been four years since my last CBT appointment. Four years away from depression and it makes me feel sick, and ashamed, to be back here. It is, not actually as bad this time around. It’s not even depression again, at least.

After that moment, as things suddenly started coming together into one big, horrible revelation of everything that was wrong, that had been wrong ever since that last CBT appointment, I was frantic. I did not know what to do, who to speak to. I did not even know really, what was wrong. I wanted a name for the monsters inside me. How could I fight what I did not know? I was terrified, terrified of ending up where I was four years ago. In the end, I phoned the health centre and made an appointment with my GP. After all the courage it took to make that phone call, I could only get an appointment a week later. A week of being unable to concentrate, of constantly worrying about what I was going to say, constantly telling myself that I was being crazy, a hypochondriac and I should cancel. On Thursday I sat, alone and terrified, in the waiting room, trying my best not to fidget, reading the notes I had made in an effort to organize my thoughts, to make sure I didn’t mess up. If I was going to do this, I was going to do it properly.

I wanted to tell someone all that I had been keeping locked up in my head.

I did not want to tell anyone, but I wanted to tell someone nonetheless. That is how my thoughts were, how they are.

In the end, sitting there in front of the GP it all fell apart anyway. I caught my reflection in the glass, the dark night outside making my reflection stark, showing exactly how red I had become. I felt ashamed, I felt crazy, even though I’d drafted out my letter six times, I still found myself unable to express it. I kept stammering, losing track. I got across the overall points though- that I am very anxious, and that I am struggling to control my eating. The doctor was lovely, patient, sympathetic, reassuring. He told me I don’t think you are crazy and I did not believe him, but it was still nice to hear. He did not give my monsters labels, which makes me think perhaps I’m seeing their stretching shadows, and not what they really are. That I’m blowing things out of proportion. At first, I thought he was not taking it seriously, then I just felt relieved. I needed that more – to be told, however subtly, that it wasn’t as bad I was thinking. That my fear and anxiety was blowing things up, distorting things. I do not want to be in that dark, miserable place I was nearly four years ago. And it is immensely relieving to know I’m not. I’m going to see a psychologist on Wednesday, and I booked myself a counselling session in a few weeks time. In the meantime, I need to help myself.

But I admit, I do not know how to begin. I’ve been dealing with this for so long, and I feel so lost. Notice every time I talk about food – I always mention the binging, and I always say I’m working on it. Notice, how many times I use the words worried, anxious, afraid. It’s been so long, and I feel so tired, and I do not know what to do. I have tried to fix this before, and I have failed. But I admitted out loud, I told someone my shameful secret, and that is the first step right? Admitting it. I did the right thing, right? I think it was actually easier when I was ignoring it all, now I cannot be in denial and everything I’ve been ignoring for the past years is piling up and I don’t know how to make it go away. This really is horrible. I thought, I thought after that appointment my thoughts would clear and I’d feel more focused. But I just feel embarrassed, regretful, and even more confused as ever. I cannot concentrate on my work any more. I don’t want to go home over Christmas, don’t want to be around even my family. I have to force myself to go to lectures – its so tempting just to go back to bed, to pretend that life is not happening, whilst I am here, unable to deal with it.

Post Title: Mary Oliver - Wild Geese

“Nillness, thought Strike, for a second distracted. He had slept badly. Nillness, that was where Lula Landry had gone, and where all of them, he and Rochelle included, were headed. Sometimes illness turned slowly to nillness, as was happening to Bristow’s mother… sometimes nillness rose to meet you out of nowhere, like a concrete road slamming your skull apart.”

– The Cuckoo’s Calling, Robert Galbraith (Cormoran Strike #1)

I bought Cuckoo’s Calling as my first audio book. I have a lengthy walk to university, and I was intrigued by the prospect of filling it somehow, of being productive whilst speed walking. With so much to do, and feeling as distracted as I have lately, I’ve been finding it difficult to read books paper or digital. With Audible’s current deal with one book a month for £3.99 I was sold. I tried this for my first book – I’ve been wanting to check it out, because yes, of course the Big Reveal.

At first this book captivated me and I am not sure if it was from the thrill of experiencing listening to a book like this for the first time or the book itself. I’m leaning more towards the former. The writing in this book is lovely – a little stiff at times, but evocative and personal. The characters are engaging and sympathetic. But. I found the book…typical. Although competently written with a streak of dark humour throughout, and a raw portrayal of the struggles of the characters, I found myself eventually drifting away from it all, getting bored.

Strike is your typical unattractive gruff but with a good heart detective, with a Dark Past and a slight tendency to over drink, of course. Robin was slightly more original – wonderfully creative and competent at her job. But then we have the Disapproving Fiancé of hers. And then there is Charlotte, beautiful Charlotte who I feel is treated unfairly in this book – and who never feels more like a touch of melodrama rather than a person. Beautiful and crazy and manipulative, is Charlotte. There is no sympathy for whatever she suffers from. She is just a “nutcase”. That word bothered me, majorly. I do not like that word. And that, that was one thing that really bothered me about this book – this view of mental health as something that only affects the very young, the very beautiful, the very twisted. It is not something that touches the ordinary. I disliked that. I hate when mental illness is treated with that kind of glamour. I think where the book really lost me though was the sex scene. OK, its only talked about as having happened, never in detail and yet somehow it felt gratuitous, and unnecessary, just another thing to think typical about, and/or a cheap way to get Robin to think about Strike that way to create some sexual tension between them (I could see the author playing games trying to set up a will/they won’t they with Strike and Robin, when it never actually felt tense in that way between them – they never came across as more than working partners to me.)

I also wish it was set outside London. Having it set in London only adds another layer of unoriginality, only takes that much more from it. A new city could have added something special and unique to it.

As it is, its a somewhat entertaining, well written book, wonderfully read by Robert Glenister and worth checking out, but not the sort of book to savour, or to fall for. Honestly, I was completely disinterested by the last few chapters and had to force myself to the finish.

(As to how I’m enjoying audiobooks – very. Its nice to be able to ‘read’ whilst getting on with things. Although I do think audio books are very…intangible. It is unlikely I will go and listen to this again, I cannot highlight or take quotes… and I miss major events every time a truck drives past. :/ )

“What else was in the woods? A heart, closing. Nevertheless.”

My sister came down to the City where I live yesterday. She arrived at 22pm and we talked a little, then went to bed. This morning it was a little awkward getting ready. I don’t like my body right now, and I did not like having my bedroom invaded in the morning, with no privacy, no where to go to hide. Well, whatever. I got ready and we ate breakfast together, of course I made it, because my sister will never do things if she has someone else to do them, and then we got ready, separately, a bit of breathing room with her upstairs and me downstairs, and I went to university, actually managing to arrive on time for my 9am lecture for once. After university she picked me up, a good thing, I was not looking forward to walking back in the dark, and the cold. There was ice this morning. I was filled with a fear of slipping and falling on my arse in front of the many, many school children walking to school at the same time.

At home, my sister and I huddled in front of the heater and talked, made plans for a pub dinner. Eventually we realized that we should move from our warm spot, and a little after that hunger drove us into action. The pub we went to was lovely, and the food was perfect warming winter fare – hunters chicken with chunky chips, for me, and large coke with lots of ice to chew afterwards, still in defiance of our father even if its been years since he’s told us off for that (not since we were little girls, really) I eat very little meat these days, cannot afford it, and it’s amazing how special it felt to eat chicken tonight.

As we were waiting for our meals to arrive my sister was on facebook and I impulsively asked if my sister would look up my best friend for me, not realizing how it would sound. But we’ve not spoken in so long, my friend and I, and I’m desperately curious to know what was going on in her life. My sister agreed and brought up her page. It turns out, my friend has a boyfriend. I had suspected – I’d lived opposite her for a year, heard her and her other friends talking, seen him coming in and out of her room, they were always together at hers or his. But I did not dare ask – especially when all her other friends knew. It felt pathetic, and I felt like a terrible friend, felt like I had failed her, somewhat, that she did not wish to talk to me about things anymore. Why did she not want to tell me? Why did all those people know so much more than me? Forget a terrible friend, I felt like a horrible person. Pathetic too, as I sat in my room with my music off, quietly listening to the snippets of my best friend talking to other people that came through my door.

Her facebook feed was filled with all the places she’s been, pictures with her friends.

We’re drifting apart, I know this, however much I do not wish to accept this. It’s neither of ours faults – its just…life. It feels inevitable. I’m too shy, too awkward, too difficult to be around. It’s no wonder she feels like she can’t turn to me, no wonder she does not want to be around me…I’m probably not very fun to be around. I know this. I made an effort last year – to try and make plans, and most times it fell through, and it left me feeling shitty. “I don’t want to be that clingy friend always bothering them,” I told my sister today, and thinking, that friend who does not get the message you do not want to spend time with them. “And I don’t want to be that jealous friend who makes a big deal of why they have time for other people, and not me” I added, a little bitter. I do not want to think too deeply about why I’ve not managed to hold onto a single friendship in my life. I guess I am just a person who is always going to be alone. Really, its my own fault. I’m a difficult person, I know this. And life is not like the movies, where even the most difficult person has someone who puts up with all their shit. People get tired of it. I know this. In the end, no matter what, there’s nothing I can do. My best friend has out grown me, I think. Our lives have simply taken different paths, and we’re in different places now. She’s in her final year, dealing with different things, very busy, and in a few months she’ll be graduating, and then working, or travelling. She’s grown up, and I still have a long, long way to get to that place. I should be happy for her. A few years back as we were walking back from school together she told me certain feelings she had about school, and our friendship group, certain negative things, and in comparison, at university, she has truly been able to blossom into the person she wants to be, to be able to meet the people she wants and do all the social things she likes. I am happy for her.

Still feels shitty though, to be reduced to asking your sister to facebook stalk your best friend.

This entry has gotten very negative, and I did not want to be this way. Other things aren’t so bad. University is actually starting to pick up. One of my group members offered to help me with the coursework I was struggling with, and he was very kind about sitting with me and going through his work and explaining it, then going through my calculations and checking it, and allowing me to text him at all hours with my random questions. So I got through that OK. And I’ve been trying to spend more time at the library, slowly but steadily going through example sheets. Hopefully I’ll be able to start past exams in most subjects within the next couple of weeks. The only one that is well and truly a disaster, still, is fields, waves and antennas. My project is going nowhere fast either, and I’m worried my group are going to get fed up with me soon. Apart from that, I have been enjoying Japanese these past couple of weeks, even if I still feel a bit hopeless at it. My katakana is coming along, and we’ve started kanji, which really makes one feel like they are getting somewhere in their Japanese education. I’m the worst at speaking Japanese, but that’s OK, I mostly want to get good at reading it and understanding it spoken. My Japanese teacher is really nice – she’s not only teaching the language, but making an effort to teach about the culture – showing us random movie trailers after the end of every lesson and talking about life in Japan. It is interesting. So, I’m just about coping with university. Whatever I am feeling, at least I am managing to get some work done regardless.

Oh and I’ve started applying for work placements next summer. It’s all very terrifying and I’d like very much not do, but I know this is something I should do, and that would be very good to do. I have a list of companies to apply to. So far, I’ve sent one application and am working on two cover letters. Got a long, long way to go yet, but I do not want to rush it. That first application was a rushed job, I only found out about the placement the day before the deadline, and it shows. I do not hold much hope for that one, but it was an experience, and the imminentness meant no putting it off. I’ll be sending my other two applications at the end of this week and I’ve put a lot more effort into those, and I am hoping something comes out of it. Even though I know realistically that getting a job just isn’t that easy.

My sister has been wonderful throughout this process, answering all my frantic text messages and helping me through my first application. I’ve been trawling the internet for advice and spending unfortunate amounts of time on company websites. I’m going to start seriously bothering the careers people at my university. I want to put effort into this, so I at least can know I did my best. I hope I get something, of course. I really need some work experience. I’m 21 and I’ve never worked, you know? It does not look good on the CV. And I feel there are vital skills, a certain maturity, that comes from having worked. Not only in regards to my degree, for I do think I’ll be better prepared for my final year and the solo project I must undertake by having worked in industry, but also personally. I’m 21. I need to develop more independence, I need to grow up just that little more.

That is, if I can get a job. It’s a very big IF. :/

Post Title: Detail of the Woods - Richard Siken

“You don’t want to hurt me, but see how deep the bullet lies.”

Ladybower Reservoir
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The opening sentence is always the hardest part of an entry to write. I can think to myself I want to write and I can know what I want to write about, but its hard to sit down and actually start. I find that with everything- essays that need writing, problem sheets that need doing. It’s always the starting of it that is the hardest.

Well, it’s already November. Two months until exam season, and when did that happen exactly? University is plodding along as ever. Half my modules are going OK, I just need to keep at it and make sure to practice questions a lot before the exams, but the other half are not good at all. Power Systems I like, but do not understand in the slightest. Electrical machines I know is necessary for my career path, but I do not understand in the slightest. Fields, waves and antennas I hate, and find boring, and do not understand in the slightest. I still have time for fields and power systems to hopefully sink in enough that I could scrape through the exam, but I have a coursework due in less than two weeks for Electrical Machines that I haven’t even started yet. I literally cannot do it. At all. The lecturer is good, the notes are good, the problem sheet is linked to the coursework and has thorough, clear solutions. But I just cannot understand it. At all. It’s worrying. Apart from that, my group project is also, well still, stressing me out. I am clashing with my group. Before every meeting I tell myself to hold back. There is a difference between sharing your opinion, and being an obnoxious twat. I’m leaning dangerously towards the latter but I am so frustrated and I find myself unable to keep myself from letting it show. They are just so disorganized, and so laid back about this project. And its like guys, seriously. This is the majority of our marks for this year. Can you please take this seriously? I’m being too harsh, I know, its probably that our learning styles are clashing, but that doesn’t make any the less frustrating. We had a meeting today we were supposed to be going through our project proposal presentation for tomorrow and no one had made any cue cards or even knew what they were saying and it just felt like such a waste of time. I’m really worried about how the presentation will go tomorrow, even though I have a feeling my group are going to surprise me (I am hopeful of that, I guess it could be said) I don’t really get on with any of these people either. I find myself rambling, saying things I shouldn’t, because I feel so nervous around them. Desperately over compensating for the fact I don’t know how to act around them, or what I am really doing. I was so lucky to have such nice groups last year, that I suppose its only right I end up with a difficult group who make me feel uncomfortable and frustrated this year. Apart from that, I am still being far too lazy with my Japanese, and I have another extra curricular module that I haven’t even started work on. Meanwhile I keep wasting time reading fic and browsing the web, because I am tired and frustrated and faced with all these things I don’t know how to do my first instinct is to bury my head in the sand and pretend that it does not exist, that it is not November, that time is not slipping, sliding out of my hands, unable to grasp onto it.

I’ve been going through health things lately. (This could veer towards TMI, so skip this paragraph if you want.) I suffer from heavy, painful periods and resulting anaemia and I got sick of it around the beginning of this year. I subsequently went on the pill and it turned me moody and made me fat, so I went off it and went on some other non hormonal pills, which didn’t work. So I am now facing going back on the pill and I just don’t want to. I am really not sure what to do – I want less heavy periods, but at the end of the day I’m facing going on the pill (mood swings, fatness, having to remember to take them) or getting the mirena coil (painful, painful, painful). Being a woman sucks. In other news I had a very awkward doctors appointment on Wednesday where, amongst other things, I was all “I have aneamia!” and he was all “No, no you really do not” and I just stared at him, shocked, because, and I accidentally said this out loud “But I feel like I do, so what’s going on?” He did not answer my question and I am still confused. I’ve been anaemic, or low iron but not quite anaemic for about 5 years now. I always imagined when my iron levels returned to healthy, normal levels that I would feel it. That I’d know. That I’d automatically be less tired, that I would no longer get out of breath just walking up a flight of stairs, that my periods would sort themselves out. I would know. But I am not anaemic and I still feel the same as ever. I am exhausted, all the time, I get out of breath, so easily. Which, after an unfortunate amount of time spent pondering this leads me to have to make some uncomfortable conclusions – I must be clearly doing something right if my iron levels are up without the aid of iron pills, but I must not be taking as good care of myself as I delude myself into. Lets admit to some things, right now. I do not sleep well. I wake up at funny hours multiple times during the night, I have bad, disturbing dreams that I struggle to wake up from. My diet could use some work. I have been on a mission to be less fussy, trying new vegetables, learning to love chickpeas and kidney beans and quinoa and cous cous but I still eat too many sugary snacks, I still binge eat terribly. I need to stop this. I am probably very unfit. I walk every day to uni and back, and I have been going hillwalking semi regularly, but that is only recently. I spent last year and the summer reasonably lazily, and I’ve never been particularly active, so I should probably accept that that is why I get so out of breath when I attempt activeness- my body just isn’t used to it right? That’s all I could come up with. Unless its all in my head, and that’s the most uncomfortable of all. Do I make myself ill for…what reasons would I do that? Attention? I don’t think I am that sort of person, but maybe I don’t know myself as well as I think, or there are things I don’t actually want to admit to myself. I find this all such a pain in the end. I don’t feel right, and now I feel crazy. Thinking about it all just makes me want to reach for the cookies because really, no matter what I do, it never seems to work (well, clearly the no dairy, more veg and less rice, more quinoa is working sorta, so there is that!) I just hate this and I really don’t know what to make of it all. I still cannot wrap my head around the fact that I have normal, healthy iron levels. That everything is OK. It doesn’t feel like it. Also: I still do have the very real issue of my fucked up menstrual cycle to deal with. ugh.

And yes, did I mention the hillwalking? I went out with the society again and I took an easier walk and it was wonderful. We went from the Ladybower Reservoir up to the Derwent Edge and along there. Absolutely gorgeous and paced nice and slow so I could cope much better than the first time. I then spent two weeks not going, until this weekend where I went out despite the storm. We went out around the Kinder Scout area. There were strong winds, like a hand pushing you, and needle-like rain. Yes, I finally understood those cliché descriptions. It was terrifying walking up hills with reasonably exposed edges when the wind was pushing into you, a physical force, threatening to push you right down (I admit I stumbled several times as the wind caught me just so) And then the rain, oh the constant rain. I was so wet. Everything I was wearing was soaked through to my innermost layer. All my belongs in my bag were soaked. My pants and shoes turned brand new colors as the dirty water seeped into them. It was cold, windy, wet and downright miserable and I am going back again this weekend. Because the scenery was beautiful, the air was fresh, albeit maybe a bit too fresh last week, and although I don’t always enjoy the process, I do enjoy the overall getting out of the house and doing something. Just concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, not sinking into a peat bog, not slipping on a wet rock or down a muddy hill, not being pushed over by the wind, it drives everything else out. It’s a good break. And there’s less pressure than in sports- there’s no rules, no fancy dress code (just be warm, don’t wear jeans and wear walking boots. easy!), no judgements. It’s still awkward, and embarrassing, because I am unfit (not anaemic, oh no, I have to face up to it now- the breathlessness, the pain in my chest, the nausea that overcomes me when I exert myself it all from a lifetime of inactivity, most likely) and I lag behind sometimes, and it’s awkward and embarrassing socially because I tend to say the first thing that enters my mind, and its never witty, because I space out and miss what people are asking me. But the big advantage of the bad weather is no one wants to talk, we traipse along, single file, in silence, trudging through the bad weather, wet and cold together. It’s quite nice. I don’t know how long the weather is going to hold out – but I’m going to try get out there until the ice settles in.

I do wish I could afford a fleece, some waterproof pants, a waterproof bag though. Alas, I could only afford to buy a hat for this upcoming weekend. Please, please let it be less wet and less windy. Not wet and a little windy would be ideal.

(No pictures from this weekend, due to horrible weather making it impossible, so have a handful from the walk before- around the Ladybower reservoir.)

“Sometimes there’s nothing left to save”

14. Nothing is coming to save you. Let yourself sit with that for a second. It will feel like rock bottom. Stay there for as long as you damn well need to. Lay down at rock bottom and look up at everything that you fell from. When you’re ready to stand, you’ll climb your way out by your own volition, and there will be no other hands to let go of yours, and that’s what’s most important. Nothing is coming to save you. We eventually have to let go of the idea that there is.(source)

→ I read this today and it really resonated with me. It describes quite well my situation these past few years. I did not learn this lesson as a twenty something, I learnt it as a teenager, which was a awkward time to do so. It took me some years to climb my way out of rock bottom, I still feel like I am climbing sometimes, like I’m always going to be climbing, heading towards the light at the end of the tunnel, but never emerging. I feel like I am stronger, having fought so hard, that I have a good amount of independence. But, I have also become very withdrawn too. I am fiercely protective of myself and my feelings, scared to trust other people because I never quite believe that they have good intentions, that their kindness is not some sort of lie. I test people – I am too scared to reach out to them, of rejection, so I wait and hope they will approach me. They rarely do. If they do, I say no to any offers of friendship, hoping they will push the invitation. They never do. I wonder if university would be easier if I had friends. I had a taste of it last year- of being able to work on coursework together, or revising together, and its one thing I miss about being there. I was alone, but not too alone. Here, I am very much alone. It’s third year, everyone is all paired up, and there are so many people, I slip into lectures unnoticed, and slip back out just the same. It’s a quiet existence, and I do not mind that, but sometimes I do want to talk to someone – sometimes I do want someone to ask about my day, or to talk over work with someone. There’s no one there. I never made enough effort, I was always too awkward, I always said the wrong thing. I end up feeling like there’s something wrong with me. I spent so many years trying to become something I was not, so that people would like me, they did not, so I gave up and became myself, and still people do not like me. They do not understand me, nor do I understand them. I realised the other day, that I actually do not really know what it means to have friends, to have a social life. It makes me feel flawed, wrong. I look at other people my age and feel so different from them, like there is some invisible barrier between us I’ll never be able to cross. Like there’s some fundamental knowledge I am missing, like being the only person that does not get the joke.

→ I am feeling very overwhelmed by things at the moment. I have my six modules, none of which I am really getting into at the moment. I go to lectures, I make notes. I’m not really processing the information. I worry about doing so many exams at once. Tonight I realized that I have a coursework for the one module, which involves using a particular software that I cannot use, so I am panicking about that. (Especially since I have no one to ask, as I have no friends.) Meanwhile my group project trudges along and I am so stressed out regarding that. I feel like I am envisioning this project totally different to my group members and its infinitely frustrating. I try to be flexible, to listen, to join in discussions not to impress my ideas on them, but to consider, to process all our ideas and try and bring them together. But I find myself getting confused by what they are saying. I cannot understand their vision, and that’s the true problem. In a fit of desperation I wrote down all my ideas as a rough draft of a project proposal last night and sent it out, and today in the meeting they tore it to shreds. Of course they did it kindly enough, but they started talking about things that were similar, but not the same, to what I was written and going off on tangents and I tried to keep up but I found myself so confused. I need to finish off the proposal, to try and change it to fit their standards, even though I am so uncertain about what they expect, and I really need to get stuck into my research. I’ve sat for hours reading through the internet, research papers, textbooks and each time I find myself feeling overwhelmed and confused as to how to get my ideas because I have many, I know what I want to write about and how, down on paper. Third year is so different from all the years that came before it – we’re expected to remember every little thing from previous years, to be competent, to be independent. I feel like at some point I was left behind, and now its school all over again, staring at the backs of my peers, desperately trying to catch up, coming close, but never close enough. I talked about this last year did I not? How I do not feel like an engineer. And its even worse this year, because I need to have a certain level of knowledge, I need a certain amount of confidence in my abilities, and I do not have it.

→ I have had a miserable week, hell, a miserable two weeks. I’m tired, I am always tired. My mind drifts from random thought to thought, never quite focusing on anything for too long, my nights are filled with strange dreams and I wake, with a fleeting moment of images and dialogue flitting through my mind before its gone, and all I’m left is with a sense of unease. It carries on to the long walk to university, and I find myself thinking things I’d rather not be dwelling on, unable to direct my thoughts away. Walking to university is exhausting, lectures are dull and time drags by so slowly, the material washes over me. I told someone today that I have no idea what modules I am doing, I just go to them. They gave me a very strange look and I understand, it does not make much sense, does it? But it makes sense to me. I am just going through the motions at the moment. I feel disconnected, uneasy, exhausted. It’s terrible, I know. It’s week 5 of university and I am already behind on my personal goals for my work.

→ I started Japanese lessons again last week and thus far I am not enjoying them – I am acutely aware that I am not at the level of the other people in my class and it makes me feel desperately out of place, very uncomfortable. I do not like it. I wish I was better at languages. Really, I love Japanese and I am in love with the idea of being able to speak it, but I wonder if I am really doing the right thing by actually taking these lessons. I do not think I am committed enough, and even when I do study, I am uncertain if I am doing it right. I’m not really certain of how to learn a language? When I do try and learn, I never really feel like it clicks, that I am really learning. It’s just a very different learning experience compared to engineering – the small class size, the interactive manner of teaching, working in groups and one on one, having to go up and write things on the board. It’s nothing that I am used to, and it makes me feel awkward and uncertain, and deeply embarrassed. I don’t feel like I should be there. I don’t feel like I should be learning Japanese- I struggle so much to wrap my mind around this strange, foreign language, to get to grips with writing the symbols and being able to read them, to remember all the new words for items. You’re looking at the world in a whole different way, Roman letters replaced by symbols, sentences reversed and held together by particles, each one with its own list of uses, past and present tenses, counting systems. It’s confusing, and I cannot bring it together in my mind. It’s not a problem to be solved, to be worked through to the final solution – its on ongoing effort, constant memorization, learning how to view the world in a whole other way. I find it really difficult, and I wonder if I am doing the right thing.

→ “I want to stay in a good frame of mind” I wrote, and how ambitious was I.

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