Struggle

I'm struggling with Greek. Yeah I know its only the end of week two and its just going to get crazy after this; and that knowledge adds to the struggle.

I'm struggling because right now Greek feels like music theory - a demon I was never able to conquer - though I feel it was a demon that I wasn't meant to conquer. I am terrible with straight memory work, I'm an artist. I don't understand how I think, but I know that I do better in a history class when I'm tested on the meanings of revolutions and the impact of certain key players rather than on dates, places and names. So memorizing verb paradigms is like key signatures for me or like math (a class I have failed 3 times in my life)

I'm struggling with a decision to change classes. I have made such a big deal about Greek and have told so many people that I was in the class that it will be a HUGE slice of humble pie to switch into something else. Oh pride issues, I love you.

I'm struggling with the self doubt that clouds me in situations like this; it just seems to trickle into every part of my life. For instance: I've always had a dream of making a career out of singing. So the other day I did a concert for Kat Meerveld and friends, it was small, nice, intimate and truth be told I did a half decent job with my part of it. But post concert is the time Satan loves to attack me - he whispers things in my ear like, "you know they only listen 'cause they call themselves your friends and they have to listen and smile, and really they aren't even your friends they just feel sorry for you" and " your songs aren't that good and you don't sing very well, remember all the yawning, that was because they didn't like you." Sometimes I'm able to dust the devil off my shoulder, but most times his whispers echo in my brain. These echoes are there when I start thinking about Greek and how well maybe just maybe its not a mountain I'm supposed to climb. And then I say well that's cause you suck, remember how you sucked at the concert, remember how you keep gaining weight, remember how you're a tool in choir, remember how nobody called you that one weekend, remember how pathetic you are...and it just keeps going.

Granted, an old me would have drowned herself in a sea of booze to deal with this feeling, but the new me struggles to keep dragging herself into the waiting hands of a Saviour who doesn't believe anything she just typed. The new me is looking, craving discernment about Greek class and a career in music and working with teenagers.

I'm struggling.