It's Okay to Cry

(I wrote this on Wednesday)

I'm pretty sure I failed a math test today. I could give you a lot of reasons why. I feel like I need the reasons because I did so well on all of the previous math tests this semester. I don't think the content was more difficult. I think I'm just wearing myself out.

I'm not getting quality sleep lately. My nose gets stuffy when I lie down... but only in the winter I guess. So I'm tossing and turning and waking up and stress dreaming. Plus, I started (or tried to start) this gym routine that has me getting up at 5:30 on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Needless to say, it has been very sporadic. It seems like my gym buddy or I have some reason we can't at least once a week. Still, we try.

My math teacher put together a review for us and we worked through some of it in class, together, on Monday... but I was too tired to understand what she was explaining. In fact, when I was driving to campus that morning, I had repeated feelings of being in a dream instead of actually driving. Apparently, that's called depersonalization and is a form of anxiety attack. Sleep loss increases anxiety, my good friends. Fun times.

So, I studied. I put it all on myself. "I must have just forgotten the stuff we went over several weeks ago." It was logarithms and completing the square. It's not simple stuff, and it had been a while since we talked about it. Review would surely help.

Last night, while the girls were with Daddy, I sat with Papa and reviewed the stuff I couldn't remember. But what he was explaining to me often didn't make sense and I'd have to ask him to start over. This stuff I learned several weeks ago was not coming back to me. It was like I was learning it for the first time... again. I cried a bit and got a little angry... as I am known to do when I come up against a wall I don't know how to climb.

We didn't have nearly enough time to go over everything I was struggling with, but we worked on every problem in the review, one by one, until I understood how and why we did each step... until we had to give up and go to bed.

Then, this morning, I skipped the gym so I could hopefully sleep a little more... but I had tossed and turned all night and spent hours lying awake, panicking about all of the school-related obligations creeping up on me. So, I left the house a little earlier than usual, planning to get to class earlier so I could jog my memory by studying the problems we had done last night.

When I opened my notebook and looked at the study guide... none of it made sense... again.

Then came the test. There were whole problems I couldn't even begin to work. There were problems for which I could find a solution using my calculator, but couldn't show my work because I didn't know the first thing about how to manually solve them. I wrote a note to my teacher on the scratch paper she provided. I explained how embarrassed I was by this test and that I studied but I couldn't understand or retain a lot of it for some reason.

After the test, I cried. I called Papa. I vented about how difficult it is to study, how tired I am, that I'm doubting my motivation and resolve to even get this degree. Why am I doing this?! Why am I making myself so miserable and stretching myself so thin? I want to show my kids that college and a career are viable options... I don't want to teach them that torture is how you get there.

Papa says I don't have to go full-time. I don't have to graduate in as few semesters as possible. But I don't want this crap to be a part of my life for any longer than it absolutely has to be. It was just one test, but it broke me.

Having calmed down, I know I am more than a sum of my failures. It's okay to fail sometimes. I've obviously over-extended myself. I was tired, and I have been for weeks. I am over-burdened and have been for a while now. I'm okay. I just need a break. Good thing Thanksgiving vacation is coming.