And so it goes...

(names have been changed)

The Kingdom/Republic of Nyssa met tonight for the last time; now each citizen will embark on their own adventures.

I am really struggling right now. I will miss everyone, but I am still very selfish. I knew that I couldn’t talk about how wonderful our group was. In my mind, I never really got to say what I wanted and that no one really understood me when I opened my mouth to speak in session. I felt like I could communicate well enough in a one-on-one conversation but when it came to the group, I always failed.

Penelope told me that she and Odysseus were so glad to get to know “the real Terpsichore” this semester: Penelope through the play and Odysseus through our shared English class. I admit that I did get to know them both better in both circumstances, but I am sad that it took two years and a separate communion to make that relationship. This sentiment was actually duplicated in that it took me two years to become Facebook friends with Treebeard. I feel terribly neglectful, that I haven’t cultivated relationships well. Part of me thinks that the relationships should just grow on their own, another part says that others need to work to pursue me, and the third knows that I need to be the one in pursuit. Perhaps it’s a combination of the three. Or more the last two than the first. I definitely need to be more conscious and motivated.

But I do admit that good things have come from my involvement in Nyssa. I found myself very intimidated by the people in my group and the instructors. I am the youngest in my family, and I learned from a young age that I could not argue with my quick-witted, very smart older brother. Instead of joining in the arguments, I would shut down; I would let everyone else talk and make noise because eventually it would die out and something firm would come out—it was worth waiting for the end result and what led up to it was hot air. I felt that way when I came to Torrey. Everyone was passionate, loud, and so contentious; silently, I would sit for great portions of session, and when I spoke it was always insufficient—it seemed like I never said what I wanted to say, that people didn’t understand or I gave up before I could communicate the point: it was both our faults. But I think it was good for me to be forced into such a group—it helped me learn to stand up for myself. I still don’t talk very much, but I know that if I want to say something, I have to say it with confidence, that I have to grow up and meet the challenge rather than constantly victimize myself.

I still feel sorry for myself a lot. I still feel inadequate, that others are smarter, that others have more authority, more passion, more drive, more accomplishments, more things about them that constantly remind me that they are better than me. But I also know that I have to put in the effort to be better than I currently am. That I am no longer the little girl who came to Empire of Torrey without any expectations. I still don’t know where I’m headed, but I actually care about where I’m going and getting there well. And now, two years later, I have good company to help me get there.