In being Okay..

Sometimes the hardest part about not being okay is knowing that you will, in the end, be okay.
Your resilience transcends your emotion, questions it, mocks it — poses threat to that one remaining connection, the one you’ve been clinging to so desperately. Sadness is, after all, the only emotion that is quite as powerful, quite as all-consuming, quite as life-validating as happiness. Without one or the other, you’re left hanging on a foreign tangent — a break from the safety of any given narrative, the assurance of any given character arch. It’s the blank page between chapters, it’s the space between the lines. It’s the comma before an adjective.

You’re left with being okay.

You’re left with the hollow, disconnected lyrics to that song which once moved you so swiftly to tears: alone in your room, that one Friday night when they were supposed to call, but didn’t. When you sat, broken in silence, lost in the cool folds and creases of your bedsheets, immersed so deeply in melody that you somehow felt connected to all those who have sat and hurt and wept before you. That you felt connected to the pain of it all.

Being okay is realizing that the same words that once hurt you no longer move you in such a way. It’s having them wash over you, instead: slowly, silently, unaffectedly — forever beautiful in their composition, but empty of the same, soul-grasping resonance. It’s when there’s no longer an emotional subtext between what you say and what you mean. It’s waking up in the morning with a stillness of body and mind, thoughts free of the endless “if”s and “but”s of love and life.

And yet, we resist it: the stillness, the okay-ness. We resist it because, over time, the notion of being okay has grown synonymous with indifference, with boredom. We resist it because we’re so afraid of being alone. Humans are, after all, connected by mutual experiences of hurt and triumph.
We resist it because we’ve lost sight of the beauty in simply being.

As humans bursting so invariably with consciousness, we’ve become addicted to the familiarity of emotional extremes: the hot, numbing grip of pain; the incontestable rush of ecstasy. These feelings push us, pull us, guide us down good paths and bad; providing catalyst for movement and change. We crave them — however temporary or destructive they may be. We yearn for the cruel inflection of heartbreak, the screaming accent of success and the tender nuance of love.

We abandon alright-ness in favor of drama, and in doing so, forget to appreciate all the niceness of an average moment: the way it allows reflection, the way it allows us to hear the cracks and faults in our own breath. It’s being able to walk on a whim in whichever direction you choose, free of burden, free of influence. It’s taking an hour-long coffee break between the chapters of your favorite book, it’s closing your eyes into the fading sun and truly savoring its warmth. It’s the peace of mind that comes with accepting contentment in the absence of joy.

Perhaps it’s these moments of being ‘just fine’ which really connect us — the moments in which we find ourselves looking left to right, wondering where we are, why we’re there and what we’ll do next.

Perhaps being okay is having faith in eventual happiness. Perhaps it’s allowing our future selves to whisper back calming words of reassurance, telling us the way it all works out in the end, how we shouldn’t sweat the small stuff, how we should just breathe — just be.

 And perhaps that, in itself, is beautiful. Perhaps that, in itself, is okay.

By the way, Happy birthday you old you!! <3

Almost got kicked out of nursing school.

"Tough times remind you of how lucky you are to have the umbrella of faith to top you when the trials of life try to stop you"

Dec. 6: I took one of my 3 final exams and failed it. I studied really hard but somehow 3 hours wasn't enough to answer 100 questions. I found myself guessing a lot and ended up with a score of 70/100. I needed at least 80 to pass. As soon as I finished the exam, I hid in the bathroom and cried because I knew then that I failed the class. It was a very difficult weekend. I didn't have the motivation to keep studying for my 2 remaining exams. I almost gave up and thought of not taking them. I went through a lot of scenarios in my head. At that point, I knew that the worst case scenario is to get completely kicked out of the program. Or go through the appeal process and get left behind for a year. I went through 5 stages of grief. I cried a lot, questioned God for not coming up with some sort of miracle to help me pass. After all, I did the work, I gave my 100% and I was thinking God should have met me halfway and did the rest. I felt like I don't have anymore fight left in me to go thru an additional year of studying. Moreover, the embarrassment of failing. I don't wanna see my peers next semester and have to tell them that I 'm now a year behind in school. Moreover, I definitely didn't want to sit in a conference room with the Dean and all the nursing committee and be interrogated for NOT being successful. I didn't think I could keep a straight face. These are people that I wanted to impress, and I don't want them to see me cry. I didn't want to sit in front of them looking like a big failure! But I guess there's a first time for everything.

Dec 9: Although I was too depressed to study, I still showed up and took my 2 remaining finals. I got 90 on the 1st one and 94 on the 2nd one. Yay right! But still it didn't meant anything because I still got that C- from the other class. Anyway, so after those 2 exams, I forced myself to calm down and contacted my adviser as well as the assistant dean to discuss my options. They helped me figure out the documents I needed to go through the appeal process.  I basically needed to write a letter explaining what happened and what I can do to ensure my success next time. 

Dec 17: Day of the conference for my progression appeal. It was a roller coaster experience. I felt like I was on my own. I felt like nobody cared what happens to me. It felt like everything I said was something they've all heard before, therefore, not going to sway them to decide on my favor. In the end, one of my past clinical professor saw me crying so she asked why. I told her everything and she was nice enough to listen and let me cry on her shoulder. She was very helpful. She gave me what I needed the most at that time -- which is a hug from someone who cares.

Dec 18: The night of 18th, the president of the appeal committee emailed me to let me know they granted my appeal. Happy night!! They ended up stretching my clinical hours, so instead of being in a 2-year track, I am now in a 3-year track. 

 Dec 20: I had another meeting with the Assistant Dean. She's been very helpful throughout this process too. She even told me she wanted me to succeed. It helps to hear words like that, because I'd been really beating myself up for failing. I also realized this happened because God is teaching me to ask for help. The process has been especially difficult since I needed to get over my pride, and asked for the faculty members support/help in my progression appeal. In retrospect, I wasn't alone after all. I was just drowning myself in self-pity.

• Good News: I'm still IN the program = my dream is still VERY possible.

• Bad News: I won't be graduating until 2016 (if everything goes well)

• More Bad News: I'll be experiencing some financial difficulty for the next 2 1/2 years.

What made me decide to appeal? As I said before, I went through a lot of scenarios in my head. All it did is made me realize how lost I would be if I don't become a Nurse Anesthetist. So it was either an additional year of hardship OR a lifetime of regret -- feeling completely lost and unfulfilled. It made it easier to see that an additional year is NOTHING. 

To sum it up: No matter how defeated I feel right now, I'm still at that point of my life where everything is still POSSIBLE. It's gonna take me longer to achieve my goal, but this is still a very great opportunity. Like what one of my friend told me, "5 years from now, my GPA wouldn't matter. Repeating a class won't matter. Even the year that I graduated wouldn't matter. What would matter is that I finish it and I become what I wanted to be. So chin up and be proud!" I'm thankful for the 2nd chance, not everybody get one.