Posted in life, Poems Beginning with W, Poetry, Thoughts

Discouragement

Some days are definitely harder than others, and today has definitely been one of those days. Today has been a frustrating day full of interruptions and delay. Task that should have taken 5 minutes were turned into an hour plus exercise in misery as every time I started someone would come and ask a question or needed me to hear something important. On top of that, it seemed that every program was eager to reveal their peculiar quirks, crash, or somehow erase portions of the work I had struggle to complete.

Irritating and pain inducing struggle that it was, I had brushed most of it off as the unwanted misery of one of those trying days when it everything goes wrong and you wish that you could just stay in bed until today turns into tomorrow. Tired and worn, I have learned to take a deep breath and remind myself that this too shall pass, and take an extra long break to recuperate.

All would have passed with only minor notice, if it had not been for an unexpected disappointment. For weeks I have planned to get a brand new math sheet creating program that was scheduled to come out tomorrow. For days I have watched every video that I could, and planned what I would do when I got it.

That was until tonight, when less than 14 hours before its release, the breaks were slammed shut because my mother feels the price is to high. Suddenly, without any warning, hours of waiting and planning went up in a puff of smoke.. In that second my heart sunk and discouragement took hold.

It reminded me how much has changed since my father died. If he was alive the price of the program would not have been an issue. As my eager cheerleader he would have helped me pour over the different bonus packages to help me chose the right one.

It is not that money was not an issue while he was alive. As long as I can remember money has always been tight. As much as my father would have loved to give me a blank check and let me get whatever I wanted, he had to settle for long talks to help us pick and chose which items were the most important and which we might desire but must pass on for now.

But things were just better enough, that there would have been no question about whether or not we were going to get this program. After a few minutes of seeing what this program could do, the question would have been settled, it might mean waiting on other things for my little business for a few months, but he would have said it was a deal too good to pass up.

Even then, some of the heartache of missing my father and the way things were before he died might have been avoided, if it were not for the fact that all of this is a stark reminder of how my life and business have stood still. ears of fighting to go to school, years of struggling to make books, and I am still in the same place as day one. A lifetime of struggling and doing without, giving up holidays and summer vacation to study, staying up till midnight to do homework, getting up at 4am to get ready for school, some semesters enduring 12 hours without food because I could not afford to go to taco bell and get a burrito, at times having to go to class in a wheelchair, pushing myself to the point that tears were running down my checks with each step because I was ignoring the symptoms of a massive infection, enduring long hours in class with an undiagnosed and untreated migraine, for what?

Even now, after school my dream of going to school and becoming a doctor, then settling to try and become a nurse practitioner, and for now even getting a bachelor degree has been demolished, I have pushed myself to the point that every bone in body hurt. Where my nerves were so raw that it felt like someone was scratching their nails down a chalkboard or putting bare wire in water, and even worse, triggering hours of intense nausea that kept me from eating or functioning until it passed.

Why, in hopes that this puzzle book, that poetry video, blog, notebook, or activity pack would be the one to take off and earn more than a buck or two here and there. That at last, my dedication and perseverance, my willingness to work until my body said no more, would at last be rewarded. And success, even a little droplet of success, would finally come my way. And finally the pain of having to spend a lifetime on the sidelines watching my family, my neighbors, my classmates, and you tubers get their dream job, graduate from school, some become doctors, get engaged, married, have kids, buy their dream home, and live the life that will never be mine, wash away.

In that one crushing moment I felt that bitter weight of failure. That agony of knowing that no matter what I do, no matter how hard I struggle, I will never know the thrill of success or the joy of being a part of life. For good or for bad, for some reason all of my best efforts have ended up in a sea of tears that could not be kept in a hundred bottles for their multitude.

It has taken a lot of effort, but most days I am able to bury the pain of missing out on life’s dearest mile markers. It is not easy, but most of the time I can put on a brave enough face to convince those who long to be convinced that I am content not to marry and have kids, that I am satisfied to be forgotten as I sit on the sideline and watch the world go by.

Thankfully, the effort to make my books and humble little videos, keeps just the tiniest enough sliver of hope alive, that most days I can ignore the deep ache in my heart. Over and over I tell myself today will be the day, and if not, surely tomorrow will be the one. Perhaps this book will the book that will change the course of my life and allow me to enjoy the pleasure of earning my own living.

But tonight, when yet another hope crumbled into a billion particles of dust, I had to admit defeat. In spite of all my pushing myself to the point of being bedridden, the multitude of missed meals and hours of sleep, and countless other little and major sacrifices so that I might finally hold up my head instead of always having to hold out my hand, I have gotten nowhere. In a cruel twist of fate, the classrooms full of students who barely made an effort, have enjoyed the thrill of victory, have known the joys and frustrations of work, love, and family, while I, the one who gave every ounce of her feeble strength, have only tasted failure and disappointment. And all my hard work and dedication has only netted my aches, pains, infections, migraines, emergency room visits, loneliness, tears, broken dreams, and more.

Will I rise or will I fall? Will the day ever come when my hard work will translate into something greater than an empty dream, unfilled longings, and a quietly broken heart? Will I ever know the joy of finding true love, of earning my own wage, or at least being able to earn enough that every once and a while I can have the pride of being able to say, it may seem expensive to you, but its my money and I think its worth it? I do not know. But it sure seems like on this earth, success will never be mine no matter how hard I try.

The only thing that I can do is give my broken dreams to God and ask Him to dry the tears of my heart and give me the strength to get up tomorrow and keep on fighting until there is no more time to fight. And trust that one day He will keep His promise to swallow up the years that the locust have eaten up, and exchange all my tears for shouts of joy and happiness.