On Disappointing Ourselves, and Then Moving On

I never understood the sentiment that as long as you do your best, the outcome doesn't matter. To me, I'd rather fail and know that it's because I didn't give my best than give my best only to find out that my best is fail-worthy. Does that make sense? It does in my head. Or it did. But I have discovered this week what people mean when they say that. I don't know what's happened to me, but I have totally given up this semester. I could come up with all sorts of excuses - I'm taking 18 credits and working, I'm prepping for Africa, I've been sick, blah blah blah blah blah. But any other semester I would have powered through it because I had to. This semester, with the anticipation of graduation and the knowledge that I've made it into grad school in the back of my mind, I've given up. And there aren't really any good excuses. It's a fate that at this point I have to accept. I'll pass all of my classes, I'll even get ok grades, but I didn't live up to the standard that I have for myself, and knowing that I could have is kind of killing me.

So as I'm a week away from walking across the stage, I guess I was kind of hoping for more than this. I really have killed myself throughout my college career. (All of my roommates and friends, and especially my mom, can vouch for me on that one - not necessarily because they've seen it, but because I've made sure they've known about it. My stress relief is venting, so heaven bless those souls who have had to listen to it because heaven knows how much stress there's been to vent). I guess I was hoping to finish strong so I could have this grand sense of accomplishment at the end. Instead, I gave up, and on the heels of this final semester, it's hard to feel like I've accomplished much. Maybe graduation is just anticlimactic in general - I have been so over the college scene for some time now. Either way I can't deny that I've disappointed myself a little bit, and yeah, I kind of wish I could go back and fix it.
But alas, I cannot, and

And in life I've learned that one of my biggest struggles is letting go of the past when the past has already let go of me. This happened. I didn't finish off the way I wanted to. There's nothing I can do about it. I'm really tempted to wallow in self-pity and make a big deal out of it. But once I've finished doing that, things will still be the same way they are. Reality will still be reality. The past will still be the past. So instead I'm venting (as per usual) via this blog, and then when I finish, it's time to move on. Lots of good stuff ahead.

Including the knowledge that there's always Frankie S. to turn to in times when this woman (that's me) needs to get a hold of herself:

Thank goodness for portable listening devices...