Missing the Train

Don’t worry, I’m not going to craft any sweeping metaphors. Well, maybe I will. I lied, I probably will. But I can’t help it. This blog is all about growing up and getting happy, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned on my journey so far, it’s that you’ve gotta slog through a mountain of crap to get to the good. And learning hard lessons tends to be kind of dramatic, which leads to some artsy fartsy metaphors. So sue me.

I missed my train.

Despite checking and re-checking that my alarm was set properly last night (because I’m neurotic like that), it didn’t go off. Despite the fact that it’s woken me up for countless exams and classes, it sat silently and let me sleep a few more hours.

Yeah, I panicked. Yeah, I might have hyperventilated and ugly-cried for a few minutes, attempting to reach my mom, who was in her happy place at a zen tai chi class somewhere. I certainly wasn’t in my happy place. The opposite, in fact!

I learned two important things:

1. I am my harshest critic.

Does this sound familiar to anyone? Because I don’t know about you, but I can really give myself hell sometimes. Before I’d even had time to think through the situation, my brain was in overdrive, berating me for being so dumb as to oversleep and miss a train, worrying about how I was going to get home, freaking out about what my family would say and generally just beating myself up. 

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