first year blues
Last school year was a difficult one emotionally and spiritually. I was uninterested in my classes (which is really unlike me) and felt exhausted all the time. Going from a small, community-oriented Bible school in Germany to a huge, competitive University was a really difficult transition.
Introduction classes were in enormous auditoriums with six hundred seats. It was so impersonal. My nights and weekends were filled with readings, studying, paper writing. I couldn't escape.
Though I was drowning in schoolwork and constantly surrounded with people in classes, I have never felt more bored and lonely in my life.
I have always worked hard in school and done well. Though I was raised in a family in which education was highly valued, my parents never put excessive expectations on me to excel in school. I did that on my own. I am a perfectionist and put a lot of pressure on myself to do well academically.
This tendency goes way back. My sixth grade teacher commented on my report card, "Jessica is an excellent student, but needs to stop memorizing her entire textbooks before tests." That's right. While most of my buddies were making friendship bracelets and learning double dutch jump rope, I was at home memorizing the entire life cycle of the tree (from seed to snag) and De La Fontaine's fables.
Being a perfectionist paid off in a certain sense. I got good grades throughout elementary school, high school and CEGEP (pre-University studies in Quebec). I was accepted into a great University and could pretty much choose whatever program I pleased.
But it certainly came at a cost.
I was competitive with friends, which I know hurt them. I spent hours studying when I could have been investing in people and other passions of mine. My grades became an idol for me, a way by which I measured my self worth.
And I can't forget to mention the self-exaltation involved. I honestly grew accustomed to being a top student. An ugly sense of pride has flooded me over the past few years in regards to academics. My self-esteem wasn't Christ-centered. It was Jess-centered.
Boy did last year humble me.
You see, I ended up in a University where everyone was a top student in their high school. I didn't stand out. I was average. In the past, when I had aimed for perfection, I had gotten the results I wanted. Though I did well last year, it certainly wasn't the perfectionist level I had grown accustomed to since age twelve.
I felt like things weren't going my way. I confess this fostered a certain strain on my relationship with God.
In the end, I did survive that first year of University. Despite the breakdowns, stress, a bad case of mono at the end of my first semester and the loss of my Grandpa (more on that here), I survived.
A year later, I can see the good in it all (crazy the way that happens, right?). The boy and I found our footing in this whole long-distance thing. I found community in my campus ministry group. I saw God at work when He protected my dad in a bad car accident.
I learned a lot about circumstantial faith, and the tendency I have to think that God is faithful and good only when I feel like He is answering my prayers the way I want Him to. As if God changes and has bad days.
Last week, I entered my second year of University with much apprehension. I could not bear the thought of a repeat of my first year.
And guess what. It's been going so well thus far. Hallelujah!
I realize it has only been a week. But it has been a good week. I find my classes interesting, I have been meeting up with friends and getting to know new ones. I am trying to find a better life balance- I have a part time job, joined a Bible study, have been reading novels and gone jogging, and plan on seeing some girlfriends this weekend.
So here's to this new school year, to valleys and mountaintops and to a God who is my ever present help in time of need.
And to those of you who are experiencing this first year blues- take heart! This too shall pass. Don't take it too seriously, have fun. And make sure to have a life outside the school library. (Note: when the school librarian knows you by name, you probably are studying a bit too much)
Introduction classes were in enormous auditoriums with six hundred seats. It was so impersonal. My nights and weekends were filled with readings, studying, paper writing. I couldn't escape.
Though I was drowning in schoolwork and constantly surrounded with people in classes, I have never felt more bored and lonely in my life.
I have always worked hard in school and done well. Though I was raised in a family in which education was highly valued, my parents never put excessive expectations on me to excel in school. I did that on my own. I am a perfectionist and put a lot of pressure on myself to do well academically.
This tendency goes way back. My sixth grade teacher commented on my report card, "Jessica is an excellent student, but needs to stop memorizing her entire textbooks before tests." That's right. While most of my buddies were making friendship bracelets and learning double dutch jump rope, I was at home memorizing the entire life cycle of the tree (from seed to snag) and De La Fontaine's fables.
Being a perfectionist paid off in a certain sense. I got good grades throughout elementary school, high school and CEGEP (pre-University studies in Quebec). I was accepted into a great University and could pretty much choose whatever program I pleased.
But it certainly came at a cost.
I was competitive with friends, which I know hurt them. I spent hours studying when I could have been investing in people and other passions of mine. My grades became an idol for me, a way by which I measured my self worth.
And I can't forget to mention the self-exaltation involved. I honestly grew accustomed to being a top student. An ugly sense of pride has flooded me over the past few years in regards to academics. My self-esteem wasn't Christ-centered. It was Jess-centered.
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| Credit: Pixabay |
You see, I ended up in a University where everyone was a top student in their high school. I didn't stand out. I was average. In the past, when I had aimed for perfection, I had gotten the results I wanted. Though I did well last year, it certainly wasn't the perfectionist level I had grown accustomed to since age twelve.
I felt like things weren't going my way. I confess this fostered a certain strain on my relationship with God.
In the end, I did survive that first year of University. Despite the breakdowns, stress, a bad case of mono at the end of my first semester and the loss of my Grandpa (more on that here), I survived.
A year later, I can see the good in it all (crazy the way that happens, right?). The boy and I found our footing in this whole long-distance thing. I found community in my campus ministry group. I saw God at work when He protected my dad in a bad car accident.
I learned a lot about circumstantial faith, and the tendency I have to think that God is faithful and good only when I feel like He is answering my prayers the way I want Him to. As if God changes and has bad days.
Last week, I entered my second year of University with much apprehension. I could not bear the thought of a repeat of my first year.
And guess what. It's been going so well thus far. Hallelujah!
I realize it has only been a week. But it has been a good week. I find my classes interesting, I have been meeting up with friends and getting to know new ones. I am trying to find a better life balance- I have a part time job, joined a Bible study, have been reading novels and gone jogging, and plan on seeing some girlfriends this weekend.
So here's to this new school year, to valleys and mountaintops and to a God who is my ever present help in time of need.
And to those of you who are experiencing this first year blues- take heart! This too shall pass. Don't take it too seriously, have fun. And make sure to have a life outside the school library. (Note: when the school librarian knows you by name, you probably are studying a bit too much)
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