This year, I committed to living with international students, hoping to be a Godly roommate, a representation of Christ. It's the second week of school, but I'm already losing the ability to decipher depth in time. Lots going on. As clear as mud. A lot of stuff. Like, having practically only one week to get back to where I was three months ago, before I left everything in Carbondale to chase after other things in Michigan. I left tearful and confused and bitter. "What have I done?" I thought as I left Carbondale to pursue my commitments with God. I felt broken, facing the epitome of my failures.
There are so many thoughts going on in my head, and I've totally admitted that I cannot handle my problems on my own. While anyone who knows the process of the flight program might say the odds are against me in passing this course, I feel a comforting glimpse of peace.. but some reason I still want to cry.
My first flight instructor. My first checkairmen for 201A. My second checkairmen for failing my 201A checkride landings. My instructor that witnessed my dumb 7700 experience. All the other staff, faculty, and students that know about my dumb 7700 experience. The chief flight instructor. The safety inspection guy. All the people in the control towers. My professors for my AVM classes. When I walk down the narrow, and seemingly endless hallways of the second floor of the new TEC building, where rooms are as tight as spandex to skin. I walk past the opened doors and glancing eyes. I recognize the voices that go on in each room. "Why are these halls so damn long!" I keep my head down, and I walk faster and faster to avoid glances, to avoid awkward hellos, how-you-doing's, to avoid the possibility that someone might recognize me and remember my mistakes, my failures in this flight program. And I want to cry. I want to be gone, forgotten. Each time my adviser walks past me at the front desk, I feel shame. Whenever I see my first flight instructor, I want to cry out "I'm sorry." When I'm in the proximity of my previous check airmen, I wish that I truly confidently feel like I deserved their kindness even in their failing my checkride, there was kindness. When I bumped into my previous instructor who had to bear through so many of my mistakes and failures, I want to cry and scream "I'm sorry" I thought he left instructing because of me. I thought I was his SIU nightmare. I was nervous to go to church, that I might see him and make him uncomfortable. That I might make him feel sick by the sight of my face, the sound of my name. That I had become repulsive.
I'm sorry for my deficiencies. I'm sorry I wasted your time. I'm sorry I'm still here. I'm sorry I exist. I'm sorry I interrupted your life. I'm sorry you have to walk past me everyday.
Ah. I finally get this out. I finally get to express something I've been going through. I can finally get this out. I can finally lay those thoughts out. I can finally point to these tangible thoughts and say "these are lies" God heal this heart
