One of my least favorite things is to be disappointed in anyone, but especially myself. And here I am,
I have been steadily employed since I was fourteen, and when I lost my job in March it seemed that my sudden inability to earn combined with my growing depression and anxiety that I would be unable to return to Idaho for school in April. My parents are angels, however, and have spent, by my best guess, around $3000 on me so that I could continue to be educated, receive free therapy from the school, and live on my own.
This semester I took five classes and I have utterly failed two of them, and I am so embarrassed and so disappointed in myself. While not at risk of being put on academic probation, I am sick to my stomach at the thought of returning home only to tell my parents that I used their money to come and learn and earn good grades only to fail. I hate it. I know I will only feel better once I have done two things: paid back the majority, if not all, of the money my parents spent on me, and bring my grades back up.
I am not looking forward to telling my parents this. Promises to improve so often seem empty and flat, but I feel like I have to prove my integrity.
Next semester will be incredibly hard. I’ll be working 15 hours a week to avoid using more of my parent;s money, I’ll take out my first student loans, I’ll have a larger credit load, and I’ll be officially off of my antidepressants. I am terrified. I am completely, utterly, insanely afraid. I feel that God has led me here, and though He has given me a choice, He will help me see it through. My faith is being stretched. I hope I can trust enough to not get cold feet and stay home.