It’s 12:30 on a Tuesday afternoon. The sky is gray and dreary. Rain has been spitting out intermittently throughout the morning. Stella is perched on the shelf above my laptop, peering out the window at the birds preparing their nests. It is spring, but the air has been cooler for the past week. There’s a pot roast with carrots, potatoes, and celery in my slow cooker. It should be ready just in time for dinner. I asked the scheduler at my job to work today, but it’s looking like they don’t have a spot for me. I had an exam this morning, and I’ll have two finals next week, but right now I feel I am in this interim period. Nothing very pressing needs my attention, but I still feel I should be doing something.

So, I’m writing. More time has passed since my last post than I like to let pass between publishing, but school has taken up all of my bandwidth. I’m not complaining; I understand why things are this way. Historically, I can be very hard on myself regarding my lack of “productivity” during the school year, while very much neglecting to acknowledge just how productive I am. It’s just that I’m finishing assignments and doing well in school, which doesn’t feel as good as doing the things that bring me a deeper sense of fulfillment.

This past weekend, I was able to participate in another annual Mideast Honor’s Association conference. That really felt like the point where academia and creativity collide. I had an amazing weekend. Another student, Lizzie, presented some of the process of publishing a journal for school. Since I worked for the journal as the poetry review board leader, she asked me to tag along and share my experiences. The conference is great because it’s a free little weekend getaway to some Mideastern city. On top of that, you’re surrounded by students who are passionate, intelligent, and full of zest for life. This year’s conference was in Indianapolis, which isn’t as exciting as Cleveland was last year, but I was still able to appreciate the city from an outsider’s perspective. I wandered around the city streets with an open mind, but it was too cold to truly discover as much as I’d have liked to.

Saturday night, some ladies from Kent State University, who happen to run the University’s publication, hosted an open mic night. I signed up without a question. Reading my poetry aloud has become almost like a drug at this point. The feeling is out of this world, especially when people react to my words. I was second in line to go, but I asked the host to skip me and come back. The group of people from my school were still out eating dinner, and I wanted them to be there. I didn’t have to wait long, and then it was my turn. I wasn’t really prepared. I hadn’t put a lot of thought into what I was going to read. I started with a short poem I wrote probably three or more years ago. It was about feeling empty and almost like I don’t exist. The second poem was much longer, and one I’m proud of. It’s called Dissolved.

“Your passing:
Though such a small part
Of the encompassing whole,
It’s come to define you.
Now, you’re just another twenty-something,
Gone But Not Forgotten.

Is anyone gonna mention the way
You foreshadowed your own demise?
Does anyone even know that blog exists?
I didn’t, not until years had passed
Since the last we spoke,

Not until you were already dead.

I see the pain now,
Archived in that digital grave.
The pain you were so adept at hiding,
Numbing into oblivion.
And sure, the addictions should’ve been a sign, but
You were just so damn convincing.

I can’t escape you,
Much as I want to.
It seems you’ve got a lot to say,
And at first, I didn’t understand why it was me you decided to channel through,
But then I had to ask:
Did anyone else ever see you?
Many cry for you, but I fear they cry for all the wrong reasons.

They cry because you left too soon,
Before you got the chance to Assimilate
Before you could get yourself a Real Job
With all the Benefits
A family, hidden behind a perfect
White Picket Fence
They cry because they saw you, a lost soul,
And wished for you to get better.

I cry because the world you wished to get better
Never did
You saw the cities for what they were:
Dirty, divided
United only by our divine ability to drink away the pain
You said we’re all headed to some
Inevitable and painful Truth
Is that what you spent all those years running from?

If only I could call you, one last time
We didn’t have much, but we had our conversations
I don’t miss waking up to you, drunken and having wet the bed
I don’t miss you drunken at all
But in the morning, grass wet with dew,
Your eyes were bright and your mind sharp
You’d draw lines between things I never thought possible
You’d strum the guitar, or banjo, or ukulele
And you’d take those lines,
With your haggard voice
Booming, even over the city’s noise,
Transforming them into spare change

Once enough was acquired,
You’d have lines of a different kind
You’d find a quiet place,
Snort them
Anything for a buzz
Anything to get away
And D i s s o l v e

Where did you go?”

Reading my poem aloud in front of probably about thirty people did exactly what I needed it to. I walked off the stage, feeling as if my whole body was buzzing. There was a smile I couldn’t wipe off my face, and the woman sitting behind me with pink hair told me I’d done a good job. Earlier in the day, I’d listened to her presentation about the creative writing process. Her poem had been published in a journal that I’ve been rejected from, so it felt more validating to hear a compliment from her than if it had just been one of my friends.

The rest of the weekend passed in a bit of a blur. I returned home Sunday afternoon, and I was happy to see Josh and our cats. The familiar warmth of the home we’ve created together enveloped me. It was such a pleasant evening. So pleasant, in fact, that not even the reality of an approaching exam could rouse me from enjoying it. I decided the important stuff could wait until Monday. That included studying, unpacking, and doing laundry.

Monday rolled around, and I did something I haven’t done in all of my college career. I skipped class. There was just something about the thought of sitting through three more hours of presentations about topics that none of us truly cared about that filled me with dread. I opted to stay in bed, and while I still feel somewhat guilty, I ultimately don’t regret my decision. Monday afternoon I spent doing my laundry, but then I couldn’t really bring myself to study for my exam.

I’ve reached a point this semester where I am thoroughly burnt out. It feels like there has yet to be any reprieve from the stress. It began at an extraordinarily high level, and it simply never came down. I’m down to the wire, with only one and a half weeks left. I will finish the semester passing all of my classes, but my last Med Surg exam has forced me to relinquish my 4.0 GPA. I’m trying to accept it, and honestly, it would be easier if I knew that the poor score was just a result of my unpreparedness. Unfortunately, I worked hard for that exam, and then was completely and utterly blindsided by its content. That’s a story for another time, though. I am choosing to still give myself grace.

The exam I took this morning was for OB. I think I did okay. We won’t get our grades back until later this week. Tomorrow, I’ve got a short presentation. Friday is clinical. Then, all that is left between me and a blissful summer are two finals, one on Tuesday and one on Wednesday. I am very ready. Then, I’ll have only one school year left before becoming a nurse. It’s a bit surreal, but at the same time, I’m ready to jump in. Each clinical experience I’ve had so far has just further solidified my confidence in my choice to become a nurse. It’s where I’m meant to be.

For now, I’ll just get through the next couple of weeks. Then, I can try to come up with some semblance of a schedule and routine again. If you’ve read this far, thank you for doing so. I’ve been playing with the idea of a Q & A blog post. If interested, leave questions either in the comments below or send them to beryan282@gmail.com

And, in case you’ve forgotten, my best friend Alina and I have a podcast where we irregularly post episodes of us chatting and having fun. Listen here:

I hope this blog post finds you well,

Until next time ~