My mom is seriously the most amazing woman I know. I know this because she raised me into adulthood without killing me or herself. I was not, I repeat, NOT an easy kid to raise. I was, how do you say, awful. Just rotten. Someday, I will have a kid just like me, and I'm not sure that either of us will get out of that situation intact.
Anyway, my mom, raising me, she put up with a lot. One thing that she (and I) had to deal with was my perfectionism. Being a perfectionist sucks. It sucks because nothing you ever do is good enough, because nothing you ever do is perfect. Your goal is unattainable. Other people will look at the things you do and be satisfied or even impressed, while you look at the same thing and see every little mistake in glaring detail. It would have a much simpler life if I could just let go of that need to be perfect and enjoy my life as it is. I'm making progress. Slowly but surely.
The thing that I think has been the hardest for me is school. I love school. I love learning new things. I love expanding my mind. I love having intellectual conversations and learning new words and conquering new challenges. I find the whole process very satisfying, EXCEPT when I fall behind. This last block was really, really hard for me. I was really sick the first couple of weeks of it, and since the classes were only 7 weeks long, I was immediately very behind and at a disadvantage. When I got into the class, I landed in a pile of assignments and concepts up to my knees. My knee jerk reaction was to be extremely overwhelmed, fall apart, cry, and crawl into a black hole. I decided instead to be very overwhelmed and do my best to trudge through it all.
There was one assignment in my English class that I really, really struggled with. I was supposed to be writing a synthesis using two readings that the professor chose for us. I got the reading, got into it, and realized I didn't understand it. Physics. More specifically, Stephen Hawking describing the Uncertainty Principle. I read those two pages over and over and over and over again and I just didn't get it. It was too abstract. I couldn't wrap my brain around it. My mind was rejecting it. I tried not to panic, I kept telling myself, 'I will look at it again tomorrow and maybe it will make more sense. I will sleep on it, then I'll wake up and I'll understand it.' Nope. No such luck. So close, but no cigar!
So, after doing this for a couple of weeks and finishing all the rest of my homework and taking all of my tests, I came to my English professor with my tail between my knees and admitted that I didn't do the assignment because I just couldn't understand it. Then, the word 'procrastinator' got thrown out there, as well as the words, "You got a B," and yes, I started to cry. In my defense, I did just start my period today and I've been dealing with the fact that if Kat was still here she would be turning 23 today, and just thinking about how much I miss her. Still, here I am, an adult woman, standing in a classroom in front of my English professor, crying. I started blubbering how this isn't like me and that I'm usually pretty smart and I'm a good writer and I don't usually put things off and I tried really hard but I failed and, and, and...
I think I scared him, because he said, "Oh, no, you are doing fine. You are doing good work."
And I say, "No, I didn't. I got a B!" See where the perfectionist rears her ugly head? I'm standing there crying because I felt like a failure. Because I got a B. Because I don't understand quantum mechanics. Because I usually do so much better, and I didn't. I didn't do a good job, I just screwed the whole thing up. And here's where the really negative thoughts come in: What if I'm not smart enough to get into the nursing program? What if I'm just not good enough to be a nurse, and I'm deluding myself into thinking that I could ever aspire to be one? Because in my mind, a B just isn't good enough. I don't even like A- that much. Actually, I hate A-. That little minus sign makes me crazy! The only way I'm going to be good enough is if I always gets As. I always do my job right. I always make dinner and it's always delicious. If my patients are ever upset, I'm a horrible Medical Assistant. If my husband is unhappy for any reason, I'm an awful wife. And, if I don't understand an assignment and I get a B in class, I may as well just drop out of college because I am so, so stupid!
So, after I sob like a two year old in class, I find myself sitting in my car, presenting myself with the verbal beating I had listed above. And that really is the nice version, it got much worse. In the midst of me verbally berating myself, my mom suddenly pops into my head. She just calmly says, "NaRhea, did you do your best? Did you try? All I want from you is for you to do your best. If it was hard and you did it anyway, that is a success."
This block was hard. Really hard. Maybe if I only had one class, it would've been easier. Maybe if I hadn't had the migraine from hell at the start of the block, it would've been easier. Maybe if these past 7 weeks I was at 100%, or even 90%, I would've gotten better grades. I wanted to give up at the very first. I wanted to just walk away, because the amount of work being presented to me coming in late was so overwhelming. And then, there is just the rest of my life that I have to deal with. I don't want to sit here and make excuses as to why I didn't get As this block, but I'm just so hard on myself all of the time and I need to cut me some slack.
This is me saying something to myself that I don't believe I've ever said before: You are allowed some screw ups. You are allowed a block where you got Bs instead of As. You know that you are smart, you know that you usually do really well in school. You know that you will do better next semester. Right now, just enjoy the fact that you finished this semester. And, remember, if you had just given up like you wanted to do so many times, you would have Fs instead of Bs. And Bs are so much better than Fs! You worked really hard this block and you really did a good job, all things considered. So (this is my mom talking now, I can hear her saying it), Stop crying, take a bath, and go to bed. Fall semester is a whole new page, a clean slate, and you will do better then, I promise.
Ok, mom. I'm getting in the bath now...
Good girl.
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