“We Made It” / "Don't Let It Break Your Heart"

5-10-2020. "Nevertheless, she persisted." And he
persisted. We all persisted. And we made it.

“We Made It”

“ 'Cause we made it

Underestimated
And always underrated
Now we're saying goodbye
Waving to the hard times
Yeah, it's gonna’ be alright

Oh, God, what I could've become

Don't know why they put all of this on us when we're so young
Done a pretty good job dealing with it all
When you're here, don't need to say no more
Nothing in the world that I would change it for”


--Louis Tomlinson, “We Made It”

5-6-2020. It's the not the graduation we wanted. It's not
the ending we planned. And that is pretty
heartbreaking.

“Don’t Let It Break Your Heart”

Life gets hard and it gets messed up
When you give so much, but it's not enough
When the high's too high, and the low's too low
When you love someone and they let you go
Don't you let it kill you
Even when it hurts like hell
Oh, whatever tears you apart
Don't let it break your heart
Time takes time to heal it
You can't do it by yourself
Oh, whatever tears you apart
Don't let it break your heart

--Louis Tomlinson, “Don’t Let It Break Your Heart”








I’ve been trying to figure out what tone to take for this post. It was supposed to be such a good week. We were supposed to be so excited. And, I mean, we should still be proud and excited—we’ve accomplished so much—but I know it’s all laced with sadness. So, knowing that all too well, I added a song to this post, one that addresses the heartbreak that we’re all feeling. It’s nice, because both songs are from Louis Tomlinson’s debut album Walls (2020), so they kind of go together the same way we have all have conflicting feelings about the same event—it’s all parts of a bigger picture.
So, while I recommend reading both sections, if you’re feeling proud and excited right now, start with the “We Made It” section; if you’re feeling heartbroken, start with “Don’t Let It Break Your Heart.”

6-27-2019. There's some inspiring Pinterest quote about dancing in the rain, right? Well as much metaphorical rain as we've had, we might as well live in Seattle (or Forks). Let's get to dancing.

...

“We Made It”

Guys.
We made it.
This is it.
We’re graduating.
I can’t even wrap my mind around it as I type those words.
It’s so close.
And…
Yeah.
We made it.

I could have put this song in weeks ago and used the line “Meet you at your uni / Cheap drinks, drink ‘em all night,” but I already had “A.M.” in the lineup and didn’t want to make us out to be alcoholics. But can we talk about this bridge??? Grad school’s an incredible amount of stress. It could have ruined us. It’s ruined other cohorts. Yeah, we’ve had our bumps and our spats and some bonds haven’t lasted, but, overall, we stuck it out together, and I mean it when Louis says “Nothing in the world that I would change it for.” I’ve grown so much in less than 2 years. I’ve learned so much. And even with all the tears and fear and stress and Imposter Syndrome, I wouldn’t give up that growth and knowledge and love for anything. In my exit interview on Friday, I literally told Tom, “We’re all winners because we’ve grown as people.” And it’s because of you guys that I’ve grown.
5-6-2020. Who would have thought this short, flat, kinda
dingy building from the 60s would mean so much to us?


People are obsessed with asking what advice I’d give to the incoming cohort. And I don’t know what they expect me to say. Maybe “Do your language requirement early” or “Start working on your Master’s Project over the summer” or some other practical piece of advice. But the thing I always say is something along the lines of “Get to know your cohort, and don’t make it a competition.” Grad school is inherently competitive. I mean, there’s so much pressure. We all feel it. But, with you guys, it doesn’t feel like that. In fact, you’re my reprieve from the pressure. You’re about the only people I don’t think expect me to be perfect—even though I still find myself trying to be, but that’s a me thing—and you actually make me better. I tell people that whenever I get the chance. You make me a better scholar by proofreading my papers and brainstorming with me and sending me articles that remind you of me. You make me a better teacher by giving me grading advice and sharing your lesson plans and talking through student problems with me. You make me a better person by introducing me to new ideas/books/music and talking about big issues and loving me.

I think we’ve all stumbled during grad school, maybe even flat out fallen down a few times, but someone has always been there to catch us and pick us up, and it’s really been an act of teamwork to get each of to this point. I know I wouldn’t have been able to do it as successfully and happily if it hadn’t been for all of your unwavering support.

9-8-2019. My 3rd grade yearbook said, "Futures so bright,
we gotta' wear shades," and that's a pretty accurate for us,
too. 
So when I say “we made it,” I really want to emphasize the “we.” I hope you know that you’ve all been so instrumental in my success, and I hope that future cohorts are just as lucky as we’ve been. Of course, we’ll always be the luckiest. And I promise to never take that for granted as long as I live.

We really made it.

I’m so, so, so indescribably proud of each of us. We started grad school with a burned down library and ended with a pandemic, and we still made it.

Because of each other.



...






“Don’t Let It Break Your Heart” 
6-14-2019. Don't let it break your heart,
and try not to let it break your wrist, either.

“Life gets hard and it gets messed up.”

English grad students without a library. The first major pandemic in a century.

“The high’s too high and the low’s too low.”

I won a teaching award. I got to present at a national conference. I got to travel to Indianapolis and Chicago (and we stayed in the nicest hotel I’ve ever been in!). I saw Ed Sheeran and the Jonas Brothers live in concert. Those are some of the highest points of my life, and they all happened in the last 2 years.

But I’ve also felt lower than I have maybe ever. I’ve been pushed to and past limits I didn’t even know I had. I remember adjusting to living on my own 900 miles away from my family and the emotional breakdowns and literal heartache that came with that. I remember my ceiling leaking and caving in and having to move. I remember my dad getting diagnosed with kidney failure and not knowing if he’d even be around to see me graduate with my Master’s. I remember all the SAGE election drama and legitimately feeling like people hated me and that I was disappointing Anne L. That last one, especially, was a bad time for me. I felt so betrayed, and everything spiraled so far out of my control, and people were being so catty, and I felt like a failure. I would literally sit outside my classroom and cry until I had to go in and teach.


5-6-2020.  "There are some things you can't share without
ending up liking each other, and [grad school] is one of
them." --JKR, Sorcerer's Stone
“Don't you let it kill you / Even when it hurts like hell / Oh, whatever tears you apart / Don't let it break your heart”

By this point, you’ve probably figured out that I do a lot of thinking with my heart. Maybe it’s because I’m young. Maybe it’s because I’m a Pisces (we can blame it on that, anyway). Whatever the reason, I’ve always had a lot of feelings, and so I’m no stranger to heartbreak. There’s a great line in Deathless Divide (2020), the sequel to Justina Ireland’s Dread Nation (2018) (both are incredible, please read them!), and one of the characters says, “Darling, disappointment is the only sure thing in this world,” and I relate to that statement a lot. I tend to hype myself up, to idealize and romanticize even when I logically know it’s not going to work out that way. I figure that it only hurts me in the end, so it’s okay to keep doing. And I’m convinced that, one day, one of my “perfect case scenarios. ” will work out. You can’t change my mind about that. Imagining something great is just too addicting for some reason.

But I don’t interpret the line “Don’t let it break your heart” as being the same thing as “heartbreak.” For me, that line means, “Don’t let this bad thing change who you are.” If you’re me, that means not to stop dreaming and loving and talking about your feelings and listening to the Jonas Brothers. For someone else, it might mean not to let someone else make you feel like you have to be sappy and emotional and chaotic and loud to be loved or to have your feelings respected. Or for someone else it might mean not to stop loving the things you love just because they’re not trendy—or because they are. I think of “don’t let it break your heart” as a reminder that you and your heart don’t need to change. Things are going to hurt you—that’s just life—but they shouldn’t undo who you are.
Especially when it comes to you guys, because you’re pretty incredible people.

6-27-2019. If only every could be "Noelle-reading-a-book-in-a-magical-garden-like-some-kind-of-intellectual-fairy" level of perfect.


5-6-2020. Goodbye, cohort. Goodbye, class. Goodbye,
Expos. Kiss my.....Mas...ter's Project.
It’s graduation week. We should revel in this, as bittersweet as it is. On one hand, I desperately hope that we’re waving to the hard times. I hope that every single person who doubted us is in our rearview mirrors. But, like I said, I’m well-acquainted with disappointment, and I know that, realistically, we’ll continue to be underestimated. Maybe because we’re young. Maybe because we’re English grads. Maybe because we’re women or minorities. Maybe because we like pink or glitter or YA and Children’s lit. Maybe because we come from small towns or conservative states. Maybe because we’re in our mid-20s and love stuffed animals. But I’m going to hope with every fiber of my heart and soul and being that that’s not the case. I hope that time heals all these wounds and that they never get reopened. I hope that the worst is past. And I hope that saying “we made it” is just the beginning. I hope we keep “making it.


As long as we have each other, I think we will.

At the Children’s Lit end-of-the-year Mad Tea Party, one of the alums/instructors, Melissa Wanklyn, said that she is still friends with some of the people from her cohort 14 years ago. And that gives me so much hope.

But I don’t just want 14 years. I want forever. I want to follow your lives and careers for as long as I’m physically able to, for as many years as the good Lord gives me. And, for some reason, that’s one dream I don’t think will end up disappointing me.

Love ∞,
Me 






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