“So much angst! You need to just relax! Keep your perspective – as an amazing student, a daughter of God, a wonderful writer.”
Words from my professor, written inside my assigned journal for our nonfiction prose class. He gave me an A+.
Even with those words of affirmation and the grade next to it, I was beating myself up over the notebook full of angst I gave him to read. Angst about angst about angst.
I keep my journals and read them every so often to remind myself that my usual melancholy and desperate search for meaning are just a part of who I am, that I am not fundamentally broken in some impossible way, that things do, in fact, work out. That my worry often compounds a tough situation, making it seem worse than it really is. That there is no such thing as a time in my life that was “easier” or “better” or when I wasn’t worried, or when I was completely happy with every area of my life.
That in retrospect, I’ll understand why and how and when.
That Grace is real, even when I’m too close to recognize it.
That even five years later, those are the words I need to read -
So much angst! Relax! Keep your perspective.