Worth

What is my worth?

I thought to myself as I stared at the ceiling as blank as my future. I feel as though I do not deserve any of this. I felt as though I did not deserve any of this, that I didn’t work hard enough or faced enough struggles. My body was comforted by the soft mattress, plush blankets, and fluffed pillows all the while my soul seemed to favor getting lost in an existentialist state. Every day I woke up to work and daily I failed to find my purpose, to feel as if I was accomplishing anything worth something.

At least she’s a nice woman, my boss. With gray hair and a warm smile, her mannerisms remind me of my own grandmother. She often brings me sweet treats and gives me free reign in the kitchen to make a cup of tea or coffee with any honey, sugar, or milk I want, added that it is present in the fridge or drawers. Whatever will boost my mood. The job isn’t particularly difficult, yet sometimes does not feel worth it, much like my classes.

Half the battle is easily enough showing up, being checked for attendance. Some classes do not require my presence as I am simply a number meant to be used a data point in the next brochure. The subjects aren’t particularly difficult, as I did choose an easier pathway compared to engineering or medical professions. Yet, as manageable as my schedule may be and as relaxed as my work environment is, the ever-impending sense that I am lost, that I made the wrong decision to come to a place where I do not belong, continues to lurk in the back of my mind.

In high school I envisioned my university-self to be surrounded by supportive friends. I saw myself being unafraid to approach a new face. The challenge of trying something new would be alluring. The vision I had for myself was one in which I was a completely different person- one that fit in. But alas, it seems that the idealized person was lost in the translation of thought to reality. A few friends were made of course, maybe not to the extent pictured in a recruitment magazine, but a few nonetheless. One of these friends, although whom I would not currently consider my closest confidant, turned out to be the one to change the course of my college career.

It was the weekend after the first half-week of classes. We about to embark on a weekend getaway with a Baptist student group located on the campus. Before loading into the vans, there was time to sit back in the red and gray chairs found in the freshly cleaned common area. Standing there with my luggage, I fidgeted with my rings and necklace. I knew only a one or two girls that I had met a couple days prior. I had set foot in the church building only twice. Next to me stood a quite short girl with hair similar in color to mine and dark brown glasses that framed her face well. She introduced herself to me and I did the same to her. We went through the routine of name, hometown, major. It surprised me when she said a form of music was her area of study. In an attempt to make some connection with my now only friend on this trip, I gave an anecdote about how I was part of a choir in my elementary school years. In a serious manner, she recommended I joined a university chorus.

So, I’ll sing with my voice, I figured as I added the course the night after the retreat. Performance art would be nothing new given I had been in two plays throughout my high school career. The only reason I had retired by acting abilities was due to the director retiring as a result of her painful arthritis. Luckily, I never set the expectation to become a Broadway star or Hollywood actor. I enjoyed being on the stage for pleasure not just as an effort to find myself but to entertain an audience.

Lord, have mercy, I often found myself thinking at least six times each rehearsal. I had not grown up singing routinely each week. I had never taken voice lessons. I did not know, and still struggle to figure out what specific notes meant. And it seemed that everyone around me knew exactly what they were doing, or what they were doing wrong, at every moment. As the night of the night of the big performance began creeping up, I would worry about being the one person to mess it up.

But I wanted to stay. I wanted to follow through with the commitment I made, not just because of the hassle it would be to withdraw from the class, but by virtue of seeing my hard work pay off. Although I was far from the best in terms of vocal abilities, I found that singing with other admirers of the art was fulfilling in a way. It allowed me to express myself through a form unlike the other creative processes I dabble in.

Therefore, I continued holding the light that the chorus provided. I tried my best to fully comprehend the lyrics of each piece and truly internalize them, even going so far as to apply those words in my own life. Throughout each practice, I envisioned the main event and acted as though it was that night. And then all of a sudden, that night arrived.

The audience believed we were worthy of all the praise and began to stand in ovation after we sang our hearts out for the finale. As great as the thundering applause was, and as much as I appreciated it, it was at that moment that I realized perhaps my worth should not come from other people.

Throughout the heatwaves of August to early November, there was a constant battle between my decisions and my thoughts. I had no idea who I wanted to be, where I wanted to go, and consequently had no clue as to why I chose this campus, this field, this dorm. After a while I realized that I was making these decisions hardly because of what I wanted and rather on what I thought I should want. Now, I have discovered that I may never be the person I was “supposed” to be because that just simply isn’t worth it. I have a great appreciation for my own enjoyments and my own experiences even if they fail to make sense to or allure the majority, much like the perplexity of the color purple.