Life is unpredictable. We will never know when is that moment that we die. Some people get a glimpse of it, some don't. And most of us, don't like to pursue this train of thought about our death. Think about it. I challenge you. Confront the reality that someday, you will die. That you have no clue when. It might be today, next week, or maybe next month. You won't know. You may not have the peaceful death, lying in your bed surrounded by your loved ones that you wish for. Who knows, you might die while walking across the road, getting knocked down by a car.
It's scary to think about death sometimes. For me, it's not so much how I will die that scares me. Rather, it's what happens after I die that worries me. After this life is over, what meaning will this life have to the people left behind? It sounds strange now that I'm saying it, but I realize that when I die, I want to be immortalized in the memory of people. I want this life to have some meaning. I want to have made a difference. But the truth is, I don't know if it will. Maybe my family and friends will mourn for me, but then what? Soon enough, they will reach the termination of their lives too. Within a generation or two, any memory of me will likely be wiped away from the surface of this earth.
Then what is this for? What is all of this for? I used to say that I believed that we created the meaning of our lives. That we decided our own purposes and lived to fulfill it. That my motto was to make a positive impact on the lives of the others around me. And maybe I can do that. But that impact, however great it is, is ephemeral. Is it worth it then?
Friday 28 July 2017
Wednesday 26 July 2017
Why am I here?
What is my purpose here? Why am I doing this course? Why am I here, in this foreign land, studying speech pathology? These are the questions that have been echoing inside my head, haunting me for the past few weeks.
For starters, I didn't do as well as I had expected for Y2S1. My final grades did not meet the goals that I had set and it made me feel terrible with myself, because grades are something that have a rather important role in my identity. I used to think that doing well academically was one of my strengths, but my recent grades have shaken that belief and I'm worried I can't do well academically anymore. What other strengths do I have, if not my grades? I fear that the answer to that question is nothing and I cannot accept that. I'm supposed to be the "smart" one, the one that does well. If I'm not that, what am I? Stupid, useless and a parasite to society?
Then, there's my current performance in the profession I'm to undertake for the next 8.5 years. I conducted my first therapy session on Monday. For the first time in my life, I had to work with real clients, not the standardised patients that I had been practising with. My experience was...well, something that requires more than one adjective to describe. Firstly, it was daunting to plan a therapy session for clients that I have yet to meet. Without having a clue of their interests or how they were as people, I had to plan and prepare for a 45 minute session with them. Already with just the therapy plans I had written, I received so much feedback from my Clinical Educator (CE) on what I had to work on. There's so much room for improvement. In other words, so many areas that I'm lacking in. I guess that is something I accepted pretty readily. After all, different CEs have different preferences and I can always learn to adopt a different writing style.
But the greatest obstacle lay in carrying out the therapy session. After conducting the session and receiving feedback from my CE, my confidence in my skills as a therapist was shattered. My guilt as a student clinician engulfed me. There were so many areas that I was doing terribly in. So many things that I was doing wrong. I don't feel qualified to work with clients yet, but I have to in order to get practice in the skills I need. My clients are going to be on the receiving end of the trial and error phase of a student. I feel inadequate to conduct therapy. What if the sessions I conduct have absolutely no effect on my clients and my sessions with them are an utter waste of time? These are real people and I'm dealing with them and their lives. If I mess up, I'm going to screw them up(at worst) or waste all their time(at best).
Why am I here? What if I'm not cut out to be a speech pathologist? What if this isn't right for me? I am petrified that I will fail the clinical section of this course. I truly am. I lie in my bed at night shaking, just thinking, "How am I ever going to manage being a professional speech therapist when I'm struggling so much as a student therapist?". I am terrified of failing this course, of having to go back home carrying my shame and a huge debt to repay. I don't see a way out of this and I'm really frightened that I screw up the lives of my clients, fail this course, then screw up the rest of my life. Sometimes I feel like I'm already in a living hell. And suicide won't fix this, because that just means my parents will be bogged down with the debt that I had incurred and there won't be any life insurance payouts. Why am I here? Why?
For starters, I didn't do as well as I had expected for Y2S1. My final grades did not meet the goals that I had set and it made me feel terrible with myself, because grades are something that have a rather important role in my identity. I used to think that doing well academically was one of my strengths, but my recent grades have shaken that belief and I'm worried I can't do well academically anymore. What other strengths do I have, if not my grades? I fear that the answer to that question is nothing and I cannot accept that. I'm supposed to be the "smart" one, the one that does well. If I'm not that, what am I? Stupid, useless and a parasite to society?
Then, there's my current performance in the profession I'm to undertake for the next 8.5 years. I conducted my first therapy session on Monday. For the first time in my life, I had to work with real clients, not the standardised patients that I had been practising with. My experience was...well, something that requires more than one adjective to describe. Firstly, it was daunting to plan a therapy session for clients that I have yet to meet. Without having a clue of their interests or how they were as people, I had to plan and prepare for a 45 minute session with them. Already with just the therapy plans I had written, I received so much feedback from my Clinical Educator (CE) on what I had to work on. There's so much room for improvement. In other words, so many areas that I'm lacking in. I guess that is something I accepted pretty readily. After all, different CEs have different preferences and I can always learn to adopt a different writing style.
But the greatest obstacle lay in carrying out the therapy session. After conducting the session and receiving feedback from my CE, my confidence in my skills as a therapist was shattered. My guilt as a student clinician engulfed me. There were so many areas that I was doing terribly in. So many things that I was doing wrong. I don't feel qualified to work with clients yet, but I have to in order to get practice in the skills I need. My clients are going to be on the receiving end of the trial and error phase of a student. I feel inadequate to conduct therapy. What if the sessions I conduct have absolutely no effect on my clients and my sessions with them are an utter waste of time? These are real people and I'm dealing with them and their lives. If I mess up, I'm going to screw them up(at worst) or waste all their time(at best).
Why am I here? What if I'm not cut out to be a speech pathologist? What if this isn't right for me? I am petrified that I will fail the clinical section of this course. I truly am. I lie in my bed at night shaking, just thinking, "How am I ever going to manage being a professional speech therapist when I'm struggling so much as a student therapist?". I am terrified of failing this course, of having to go back home carrying my shame and a huge debt to repay. I don't see a way out of this and I'm really frightened that I screw up the lives of my clients, fail this course, then screw up the rest of my life. Sometimes I feel like I'm already in a living hell. And suicide won't fix this, because that just means my parents will be bogged down with the debt that I had incurred and there won't be any life insurance payouts. Why am I here? Why?
Sunday 23 July 2017
A letter to somebody I used to know
Dear _,
I'm afraid we've reached the point of no return. The point where everything that has been building up for the past few years will come to naught. It's over. There isn't anything left to fix, because our friendship is beyond repair. At least, I think it's beyond repair. I already see it as a sunk cost, like a car that's been written off. And I don't wish to start over.
I think it's fair to say that we both tried to make it work. And for a while, it did. But then, this semester, everything began going downhill. What we did isn't working anymore. We've changed and grew apart. You said you valued our friendship. But I don't think so. Actions speak far louder than words, and all I heard was silence. I wish it could be better. I wish we could both just say sorry and move on. But this state of things requires far more than two "sorry"s to fix. Honestly, I don't even think it can be fixed. I don't want to try anymore. I'm done trying. You may say I'm being selfish. And maybe I am. But I can't try anymore. I can't trust you anymore.
To see our friendship end hurts me. Maybe more than it will ever hurt you. I will never know. I let you into my house, but you've only ever accommodated me at your porch. You know my every emotion so well, you can tell exactly how I feel with every small action I make, yet I hardly know what is going on with you.
You probably don't know what's it like to be hurt, have trust issues, swear never to let anyone in, then meet someone who makes you believe in people again, only to have them hurt you. Well then, let me tell you, it's similar to feeling like a fool for knocking into the same glass door everyday even though you take the exact same route to school everyday, but way more intense.
I give too much of myself, too fast, and often to the wrong person. To a person who will never reciprocate. To a person who doesn't care for it as much. Relationships are never 50/50, and stupid me is always the one giving 60, 70 or even 80.
I don't know why I said I was going to move. I don't think I'm in greater wrong than you. I don't see why I should be the one moving. I'm just so fucking unhappy here. But you, you probably don't give a fuck how I feel.
I'm afraid we've reached the point of no return. The point where everything that has been building up for the past few years will come to naught. It's over. There isn't anything left to fix, because our friendship is beyond repair. At least, I think it's beyond repair. I already see it as a sunk cost, like a car that's been written off. And I don't wish to start over.
I think it's fair to say that we both tried to make it work. And for a while, it did. But then, this semester, everything began going downhill. What we did isn't working anymore. We've changed and grew apart. You said you valued our friendship. But I don't think so. Actions speak far louder than words, and all I heard was silence. I wish it could be better. I wish we could both just say sorry and move on. But this state of things requires far more than two "sorry"s to fix. Honestly, I don't even think it can be fixed. I don't want to try anymore. I'm done trying. You may say I'm being selfish. And maybe I am. But I can't try anymore. I can't trust you anymore.
To see our friendship end hurts me. Maybe more than it will ever hurt you. I will never know. I let you into my house, but you've only ever accommodated me at your porch. You know my every emotion so well, you can tell exactly how I feel with every small action I make, yet I hardly know what is going on with you.
You probably don't know what's it like to be hurt, have trust issues, swear never to let anyone in, then meet someone who makes you believe in people again, only to have them hurt you. Well then, let me tell you, it's similar to feeling like a fool for knocking into the same glass door everyday even though you take the exact same route to school everyday, but way more intense.
I give too much of myself, too fast, and often to the wrong person. To a person who will never reciprocate. To a person who doesn't care for it as much. Relationships are never 50/50, and stupid me is always the one giving 60, 70 or even 80.
I don't know why I said I was going to move. I don't think I'm in greater wrong than you. I don't see why I should be the one moving. I'm just so fucking unhappy here. But you, you probably don't give a fuck how I feel.
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