2am tears.

I was reading through old blog posts tonight, and stumbled upon the post I wrote after coming home from my senior year in May.

In that post, I wrote that I “wish I could erase it and start all over.” (It being my senior year).
Now, I’m eating those words. Royally.

Funny how life works, isn’t it?
At first it made me laugh. But laughter soon fell to tears… cause as hard as last year was, leaving student teaching and starting this year over in the spring were most definitely NOT in the plans. Ever.

Looks like I am getting a re-do of my senior year… not just how I wanted. Or why.

And now, I don’t know what my plans are. And it terrifies me.

And so, I sit here at 2am when I should be sleeping, and I let myself cry.

For what would have been, what should have been.

For what went wrong.

I cry because of how naive I was in May. How fast things change over the course of a few months, whether I want them to or not.

I cry for how plans and dreams came crashing to the ground.

And, I cry because I have no one to blame for this mess but myself. 

It wasn’t my teacher. It wasn’t my school. It wasn’t my professors, or the family and friends that tried to help me make my decisions.

It was all me. And now, I let myself cry because I don’t know what else to do about it.

I cry for the unknowns. For the stress this has caused on myself.

As much as I want to put on a brave face and say I’m getting through this detour in the plans alright, tonight I’m letting the facade down. I don’t want to be strong for anyone anymore– especially for myself.

I can’t act like this is all okay and I’m doing great after this. It’s not. I’m not- and I haven’t been for awhile.

And for that, I will let myself cry. And grieve what should have been, and cry for the fear of what will be.

6 thoughts on “2am tears.

  1. He has good, good plans. Even when we can’t see them. Even when everything is fog and just feels like wading through the muck. I know you know it, so I don’t need to say it, but just in case 2am finds you doubting: This might not be the story you imagined yourself living, but He is in these pages too.

    1. I read your comment when you posted it, but never replied. Tonight was a good night to reply, though– I needed to be reminded tonight that He’s here in the midst of this mess, too. I needed this tonight: “This might not be the story you imagined yourself living, but He is in these pages too.” So not the story I planned. But the one He did, i guess. I need to remember that. Thank you for reminding me, friend. Trying to believe in those good plans (I just wish I knew what they were already!) <3

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