It's Too Hard, You Can't Do It

Eye-Opening Moments Unleashed are real-life stories of adversity, encounters, and perspectives intertwined. They are moments that can lift your spirits, give you some food for thought, or move you. For the introspective mind that likes to reflect, discover, and find solutions or meaning in a complex life, this is for you. In this episode you will hear about It's Too Hard, You Can't Do It

                                                                                       
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Transcript

Hello and welcome to episode #228 of Eye-Opening Moments Unleashed where you’ll hear stories of adversity, encounters, and perspectives intertwined. They are moments that can lift your spirits, give you some food for thought, or move you. For the introspective mind that likes to reflect, discover, and find solutions or meaning in a complex life, this is for you. I’m your host Emily Kay Tan. In this episode, you will hear about It’s Too Hard, You Can’t Do It.

It's Too Hard, You Can't Do It

With a smile, I said, "I want to be a professional speaker." In the next moment, the facilitator said, "That's very hard!" I had only sat down for five minutes, and already, the leader of the group meeting infuriated me. Excited to apply for college, I cheered, "I'm going to college!" Uncle Holden heard me and reacted. "It will be too hard for you. You need to apply to a community college and get a job." Pissed, I stormed out of the house. Ready to study and take an eight-hour foreign language exam, my friend said, "It will be too hard for you." Heating angrily, I interrupted our phone conversation and hung up on her. Whenever anyone tells me I can't do something, my insides heat up with anger. What will I do? Fight back, but can I prove others wrong and overcome the challenges? 

Excited to join Toastmasters International, a public speaking forum, I sat down for my first meeting. The facilitator said, "So Emily, what brings you here?" Surrounded by strangers, I boldly said, "I want to be a professional speaker." If they laughed at me, it wouldn't matter because I didn't know anyone in the meeting. Smiling at my statement, I believed my first step was to declare my intention and share my dream aloud. One hour later, the meeting ended, and the facilitator approached me. "To be a professional speaker, you must participate in speech competitions to be known. Before you can participate, you will need to complete at least six speeches. You only have six months before the next competition. It is not a lot of time. It's hard. If you want to go, these are the requirements, and the group needs to agree for you, or your speech, to represent us in the competition." The woman's tone was not encouraging. It was only my first day, and she angered and annoyed me.

My inner voice said, "You haven't even heard me give one speech yet; how do you know it would be hard for me? You don't know what I am made out of; I will show you!" Angry that I was already judged before I even started, I stomped out of the building. Maybe it was hard for her, so she thought it would be hard for everyone else. But as the group leader, couldn't she have been more encouraging? I judged her, too. I judged her to be a bad leader because she was discouraging. I wanted to find another group, but that was the one closest to where I lived. I was unhappy with the group's facilitator but determined not to be deterred by her, so I attended the next meeting.

Six months later, I completed the requirements and was ready for my first competition. My inner voice continued chattering. I did it. She said completing six speeches in six months was too hard. It was not hard, and I proved it. How dare she say what she said? I shook angrily but nervously, excited that I had proven her wrong. Sometimes, anger is the impetus to motivate one to take action. Maybe anger motivated me, but something else unnerved me, too.

If you say I can't do something, I will do whatever it takes to prove you wrong. Why? I want to make a statement. I want to say you wrongly judged me. Perhaps it is my self-righteousness speaking. Whether it was anger, self-righteousness, or a bit of both, it worked!

Stepping forward, I was asked if I needed the microphone, and I said, "No!" Rebellious me wanted to say I have a voice and can speak it loud and clear to only two hundred people at my first speech competition. I trembled. My body seemed to shiver in heat. It was not so much nervous tension, but I was moved by my speech entitled, I Have a Voice.

"In first place is Emily Kay Tan!" Did I hear right? Is it me? In one moment, I was in disbelief, but in the next moment, my inner voice said, "Ha! You didn't think I could do it. You wronged me; I proved you wrong." That self-righteous me reared its ugly head, and I looked around to find the facilitator of my weekly meetings. There she was in the sea of people, and she wasn't even looking for me to congratulate me. 

Strangers approached me to tell me they felt they had an unheard voice, too. Shocked, I thought I was alone in the pain of having an unheard voice. Discovering that I was not alone, the warmth of strangers surrounding me was heartwarming. The satisfaction I felt when I could do it was more than fulfilling. I didn't care where my facilitator was anymore. I didn't need to prove to her or anyone else. I only needed to satisfy myself, and then I could make a difference for others and give them hope. I fought back. I had my moment of victory that day. The fighter in me says, "Don't underestimate me; I will show you."

I flashback to Uncle Holden's words, "It will be too hard for you. You need to apply to a community college and get a job." Offended and angry at his words, I removed myself from the room. Uncle Holden essentially said I was too stupid to go to a four-year college. I justified my anger. How did he even know whether I was smart or stupid?! In my fit of rage, I was on a rampage. I was going to prove him wrong. I would fight to win, and he would not even know I was fighting with him! But I am a fighter!

Imagine being deemed stupid when you did nothing to show stupidity. Told that I was stupid because I came from my father, made no sense to the seventeen-year-old me. Infuriated that Uncle Holden had wronged me, I proceeded to apply to private colleges. Secretly afraid that I would not be accepted, I prayed and prayed, and I waited. Hurray! I got into my number one choice!

I got accepted to a college; I triumphed. Importantly, I proved Uncle Holden wrong. The satisfaction was sweet. Still, I asked, "Why do others judge me wrongly with no basis? Why do others think so little of me? Do they think so little of themselves? Or are they pessimistic beings?! Whatever the reason was, it wasn't important. What mattered was that I didn't let it stop me. The negativity of others only motivated me to do the opposite.

My dream of teaching a foreign language was my passion. I thought it was an unreachable, unrealizable passion. It hurt when my dear friend Selina, who has done many things to save my life, didn't believe in me. Feeling unsupported and sad, the fighter in me stepped forward. It couldn't help itself. It had to say, "I'll show you."

After studying a foreign language for eight years formally and some years through self-learning, I signed up for an intensive course at an internationally renowned language institute. Selina said it was too hard and not worth the money. She said government employees required to learn a foreign language went there, so classes were challenging and intense. The fighter in me refused to listen and consider her opinion, so I enrolled. 

The language classes were indeed intensive. Six hours of study per day and two to three hours of homework five days a week kept me busy. My eyes gleamed with daily quizzes and oral presentations. I loved it! The chance to express myself in a foreign language daily was exhilarating. The energy in me bounced and bounced. My passion only grew bigger as my smiles grew bigger, too. After two months of intensive learning, the journey ended all too soon. However, I quickly signed up for the exam to become licensed to teach a foreign language in high school.

I read that it would take eight hours to complete and could not understand how it could take so long. Even college entrance exams did not take so long. My little voice told me that maybe Selina was right; it was too hard. But I refused to accept defeat. I had to do it.

I sat there. I heard other test takers sigh a frustrated or tired sigh because it was a lengthy test. There were eleven one-page essays to write, an oral component, and a reading and listening section. I wondered why it was so comprehensive. I would never teach literature, linguistics, philosophy, history, and culture, so why was I being tested on those subjects?! I only wanted to teach the language! I studied those subjects from the books I bought and could only hope my self-learning would be enough. All the worrisome thoughts scurried through my mind in the silence of the testing room. The sounds of sighing people did not help, but I needed to focus. I needed to block out the negative sounds in the room and the discouraging thoughts in my head. I would not let Selina think she was right; I had better not waste my eight hours with negativity.

I got to essay number eight. I was to analyze a short poem. It was only six lines long, and I had a whole page to make my analysis. I had no idea what the meaning of the poem was. I never studied poems in this foreign language. I was in trouble. I thought I would fail if I left one essay blank. Help! I can't fail!

I read and reread the poem. I began writing my analysis. My answer was all made up. I hoped my effort to fill the page would give me some points. It was better than leaving it blank. I could only say I tried my best. It was a difficult test. If I failed, I was sure many others would, too. Who could know all that knowledge?! After six hours, I decided I was done. I tried my best and could only begin praying as I waited for the results.

The eternity of waiting was torturous! However, finally, the results came in. I passed!!! Say I can't do something, and I will show you I can. As the person who knows me best has said, "Emily, you are a fighter, a fighter, a fighter!" I say I must see "I am possible" in the face of "impossible." If I don't, then I would be choosing defeat. And defeat is not an option in my book.

Key Takeaway:  Though some said I couldn't do some things because they were difficult, the fighter in me proved otherwise.

Next week, you will hear a new real-life story called And Then He Showed Up. If you enjoyed this episode of Eye-Opening Moments Unleashed, please text someone and ask them what they think about this podcast, or go to www.inspiremereads.com and leave a message. Thank you for listening!