Waking Up
Posted by lady_croft at 07:03 AM on May 5, 2004 as a favorite post.
Every high school student faces challenges, be it passing the exams, getting good grades, or dealing with teachers and classmates. But who would have thought that the simple act of rousing from sleep would be the biggest challenge in my academic life. Of course, many students could very well relate to the horrors of getting out of bed to prepare for school, especially on Monday mornings when the weekend has not totally gone out of our adolescent psyches just yet. I just hated seeing that light which would deprive me of sweet slumber's bliss. But imagine having to go through the case of the "Monday mornings" every single day. Amplify such a scene ten times, add more characters to the plot (such as my own mother, my older sister and whoever else was within twenty feet), and that would be the routine I had since the year I was a sophomore.
It was my second year in the high school of Assumption, and it had only been a couple of years since a very critical phase in my life had transpired. Two years preceding that, I was compelled to withdraw myself from school for reasons that concerned my health. It was such a tragic episode that had a strong influence chiefly on my academic life. When I became well enough to continue my schooling, I was so overwhelmed by a change in academic program and the extreme shift in my academic performance. ( I graduated elementary from a different school, Miriam Collge, wherein I had been a consistent honor student.) Resentment grew in my heart as I began to seriously think that I was no longer the girl who strove for and achieved excellence in academics, sports, leadership and extra-curricular activities, the girl who dreamt big upon entering secondary school. To a certain extent, I was disillusionment personified. As my worries swelled into full-fledged anxiety, the frenzy and drama of teenage life, along with family crisis and economic detriments, unleashed on me uncontrollably. I cannot recall vividly the details of the obstacles and misfortunes that had struck me during those times. All I know is that one thing led to another.
The travails of waking up in the morning to prepare for class had gone beyond ridiculous. It reached to a point wherein the mere act of going to school had become too embarrassing for me because I had become way behind in my quizzes, exams, projects and home works. While it is painful to fail, it is worse to willingly surrender to failure. The light which would push me to get up from sleep was no longer my adversary only because it no longer existed. For periods that seemed never-ending, problems came pouring down, one after the other. The battle had become despicable, even traumatic. Its impact had been enough to outweigh my emotional capacity.
But the biggest blow, or rather the eye-opener of it all, happened a month before the present scholastic year had started. It was one summer afternoon, a few hours before the last day of enrollement, when my family informed me blatantly of their unanimous decision not to enroll me to school for the coming academic year. With firm dislike for the sudden revocation, I verbalized my disapproval. But they were so arrogantly adamant that no amount of apology, assertion, affirmation or tears could change their minds. Not a bit of sympathy, but rather a stream of vituperation, did I receive from my kin. Reluctantly accepting my inferior disposition to their authority, I was furious, agitated and malevolent. I felt I was deprived of my right to education. I felt I was heartlessly forsaken, and true enough, I was on my own. But before accepting another defeat against hopelessness, I paused for awhile and gave myself time for introspection.
Even when there is nowhere to run to, there is always the option to look up. Through my years of Catholic education, all the faith values I learned theoretically, I was learning empirically. I fervently put my trust in God instead relying completely on my own understanding. I could not find a way, but with God's grace, I made a way. The struggle lasted for a week, and not a moment would I have had surrendered without putting up a fight. It was the biggest battle I ever had to combat all by myself, but more importantly, it was the battle I had won. Of course, many other people had been involved in the issue - my biological father (he and my mother had been separated since the day I could walk), my stepmother, two of my good friends and my ever-kind class adviser during my sophomore year.
Today, I am proud to have come this far despite the long painstaking journey I have traveled. I believe it was all worth it. Cliché as it may sound I believe "experience is the best teacher." As pain continues to be my apprehension, it motivates me to rectify the mishaps of the past. Likewise, the struggles of the past make the present more precious than ever. In addition to that, I realized how I had been so absorbed in my own problems and frustrations that I had overlooked what was going on in the lives of other people.
After that tumultuous phase last summer, I now understand how rights come with responsibilities and how rights are different from privileges. I had demanded for the opportunity to receive exclusive education - it is not a requirement, nor is it a chance given to everyone. This means that I had fought for a privilege, not exactly a right. Fortunately (now in a more glorious sense), I have been granted the privilege, and at the same time, I have been handed the duty to reach out to the economically disadvantaged. A quote from the Parable of the Talents serves as my guide - "To whom much is given, much is required." In my pursuit of the fulfillment of this social responsibility, I commit myself to utilizing my gifts and priveleges in the most fruitful ways possible.
I have found the will to get back on track, and with vengeance, if I may say so. It is truly amazing how I have successfully gone this far, and "my story", in a manner of speaking, has been used as motivation for the other students. While it is still quite a burden to wake up in the morning, I believe I have finally woken up. My fear has become somewhat the opposite of waking up, that is to go to sleep and hear myself saying I did not do my best. I no longer despise the light as I keep in mind that I still have much to do. And if I ever reach the ambition to live for the glory of God and of others, I can then have my final sleep peacefully, for I know that my own light would remain in this world.
It was my second year in the high school of Assumption, and it had only been a couple of years since a very critical phase in my life had transpired. Two years preceding that, I was compelled to withdraw myself from school for reasons that concerned my health. It was such a tragic episode that had a strong influence chiefly on my academic life. When I became well enough to continue my schooling, I was so overwhelmed by a change in academic program and the extreme shift in my academic performance. ( I graduated elementary from a different school, Miriam Collge, wherein I had been a consistent honor student.) Resentment grew in my heart as I began to seriously think that I was no longer the girl who strove for and achieved excellence in academics, sports, leadership and extra-curricular activities, the girl who dreamt big upon entering secondary school. To a certain extent, I was disillusionment personified. As my worries swelled into full-fledged anxiety, the frenzy and drama of teenage life, along with family crisis and economic detriments, unleashed on me uncontrollably. I cannot recall vividly the details of the obstacles and misfortunes that had struck me during those times. All I know is that one thing led to another.
The travails of waking up in the morning to prepare for class had gone beyond ridiculous. It reached to a point wherein the mere act of going to school had become too embarrassing for me because I had become way behind in my quizzes, exams, projects and home works. While it is painful to fail, it is worse to willingly surrender to failure. The light which would push me to get up from sleep was no longer my adversary only because it no longer existed. For periods that seemed never-ending, problems came pouring down, one after the other. The battle had become despicable, even traumatic. Its impact had been enough to outweigh my emotional capacity.
But the biggest blow, or rather the eye-opener of it all, happened a month before the present scholastic year had started. It was one summer afternoon, a few hours before the last day of enrollement, when my family informed me blatantly of their unanimous decision not to enroll me to school for the coming academic year. With firm dislike for the sudden revocation, I verbalized my disapproval. But they were so arrogantly adamant that no amount of apology, assertion, affirmation or tears could change their minds. Not a bit of sympathy, but rather a stream of vituperation, did I receive from my kin. Reluctantly accepting my inferior disposition to their authority, I was furious, agitated and malevolent. I felt I was deprived of my right to education. I felt I was heartlessly forsaken, and true enough, I was on my own. But before accepting another defeat against hopelessness, I paused for awhile and gave myself time for introspection.
Even when there is nowhere to run to, there is always the option to look up. Through my years of Catholic education, all the faith values I learned theoretically, I was learning empirically. I fervently put my trust in God instead relying completely on my own understanding. I could not find a way, but with God's grace, I made a way. The struggle lasted for a week, and not a moment would I have had surrendered without putting up a fight. It was the biggest battle I ever had to combat all by myself, but more importantly, it was the battle I had won. Of course, many other people had been involved in the issue - my biological father (he and my mother had been separated since the day I could walk), my stepmother, two of my good friends and my ever-kind class adviser during my sophomore year.
Today, I am proud to have come this far despite the long painstaking journey I have traveled. I believe it was all worth it. Cliché as it may sound I believe "experience is the best teacher." As pain continues to be my apprehension, it motivates me to rectify the mishaps of the past. Likewise, the struggles of the past make the present more precious than ever. In addition to that, I realized how I had been so absorbed in my own problems and frustrations that I had overlooked what was going on in the lives of other people.
After that tumultuous phase last summer, I now understand how rights come with responsibilities and how rights are different from privileges. I had demanded for the opportunity to receive exclusive education - it is not a requirement, nor is it a chance given to everyone. This means that I had fought for a privilege, not exactly a right. Fortunately (now in a more glorious sense), I have been granted the privilege, and at the same time, I have been handed the duty to reach out to the economically disadvantaged. A quote from the Parable of the Talents serves as my guide - "To whom much is given, much is required." In my pursuit of the fulfillment of this social responsibility, I commit myself to utilizing my gifts and priveleges in the most fruitful ways possible.
I have found the will to get back on track, and with vengeance, if I may say so. It is truly amazing how I have successfully gone this far, and "my story", in a manner of speaking, has been used as motivation for the other students. While it is still quite a burden to wake up in the morning, I believe I have finally woken up. My fear has become somewhat the opposite of waking up, that is to go to sleep and hear myself saying I did not do my best. I no longer despise the light as I keep in mind that I still have much to do. And if I ever reach the ambition to live for the glory of God and of others, I can then have my final sleep peacefully, for I know that my own light would remain in this world.
Drinking isn't really my way of dealing with problems, but my "crappiness" contributed to the temptation. Although it was my sister who suggested the idea, I thought I needed the break.