I’ve tried to practice what I preach all damned day. To sit, and allow all the negative shit to just flow through me. It’s now 7 minutes to midnight and sleep is as far from me as it ever has been. My mind is muddled and fevered and I just can’t toss and turn in my fucking bed for one more minute.
I’m losing it.
I HATE my new teacher. Oh, crap, that isn’t true. He’s NOT the right teacher for me, though. I’m fairly certain of it. My fellow student is from Turkey, speaks with a horrid, stilted accent, and never got corrected on ANY pronunciation. I was told that all I need to do is buy two books and read them. That’s it. Read, and go out into the world and talk. Like the fucking books will correct any problems with pronunciation. Or tell me what all those adages peculiar to any language actually mean. Or just help me move it from something I consider – hm, that’s an interesting grammar rule – to one I can use and use well, without having to think for ten goddamn minutes. An hour and a half of sitting there, listening to her speak (took me 40 minutes just to catch her accent) and him telling me four damned times to read the book, read this, read that, I’ll get it, that’s all I need.
I’m so damned mad and sad and frustrated.
Came home and CRIED, literally BAWLED for half an hour. Told myself that I’m sure I hated my first grade teacher, too. I loved my kindergarten teacher and I remember being very unhappy the first few weeks of first grade. Told myself to give it time, to try to do it this way for a few months. To keep drilling on the computer, to keep reading the papers and the subtitles on tv and catch general conversations going on around me.
Learning went from something fun and exciting to a horrible slog in zero point two seconds.
I’m worried I’m just being a baby. Wanting to be spoon fed everything. But it’s so damned DIFFICULT to have to resort to the dictionary every 6th word and then try to cobble together the meaning of a sentence all on my own. It’s hard and I don’t like to do it and I don’t WANT to do it. I don’t WANT to speak with an obvious accent. Maybe I’ll never sound like a native but I don’t have to speak pigeon-Dutch, either. And I’ll never get that from just books. Plus, my new teacher said a couple of things I’m pretty sure were wrong. And he’s NO writer.
My head just won’t shut up over this. I’m worrying and upset and any moment of calm I can achieve is offset by ten minutes of yuck. Last thing I want is to go sleep on THIS and end up having a shit load of nightmares.
So, reminders to myself:
- I can say it’s not working and ask for another instructor.
- I can say it’s not working and return to the lower level class.
- I can keep trying.
- I can access other sources for conversations. Go back to some other places and other people I’ve met and ask them to talk to me for an hour a week.
- I can advertise for someone to come into my home and talk to me.
- I can say fuck it, and just give up.
Yeah. Had to put that last one there as an emergency exit for myself.
And I don’t have to make up my mind this second. Or tomorrow, or the day after. I can ponder this. But too much frustration post lessons and I’m gonna fucking walk. I don’t learn when I’m wound up like this.
Damn it. I SO wanted things to be different.
I sure as hell didn’t want to end up the day feeling utterly worthless again, yet here I am. Just this wall of frustration. Frustration over not fully understanding, frustration over feeling kind of shunted aside, frustration over the loss of what I dreamed of. This experiment of allowing myself to sit in the middle of pack might be too tough for me to handle. Christ. What does THAT say about me? Nothing good, I’m sure.
Sigh one thousand nine hundred and sixty-two. Been doing that a lot today.
For the record, I walked for an hour and did the stairs. Was so tired I fell asleep for 40 minutes around 5 p.m. I regret that little nap right now. Or perhaps better said, I envy it. I envy the exhaustion that crept up on me. Wish some of it would climb on my back right now. No dreams, just deep sleep. Just…nothing. For awhile.
There is nothing lonelier than not being able to sleep. I’ll take getting up early to staying up late any day of the year.
But there. At least I’ve fucking said all the shit that’s been going round and round non-stop in my head. Maybe that will let me rest. Or maybe not. People like to wax poetic about ‘dark nights of the soul’.
There ain’t nothin’ poetic about it.