anatomy of a breakdown
Today I tried to go to a coffee shop to study for my anatomy midterm that I only just realized that I had yesterday. It's on Monday. I studied my ass off literally all day on Friday to take a lab exam, and now I have a written midterm on Monday. Bring on the multiple choice, bitches. And the bullshitting of essays with the best grammar to ever walk the earth, because apparently that makes a fucking difference to them.
I couldn't study at the coffee shop. There were two other men crammed into the same corner with me, one on his computer and the other reading a newspaper, who felt the need to turn towards us and kept looking over the top of the paper at me every once in a while. Was my book distracting him? Was my look of utter dissatisfaction with my life and choices I have made in my nonexistent career thus far making him uncomfortable? I promised myself that if anyone told me "Hey, smile a little" I would throw my book at their face.
I finally got tired of staring at my book in defeat, wondering how I had missed the fact that we learned about joints in lecture for 2.5 seconds and how this study guide reflected anything that we had learned in class. It didn't. Apparently we're supposed to teach ourselves the anatomy of muscle, bone, joints and everyfuckingthingelse. My professor is a really nice guy who is a physical therapist at Kaiser and loves anatomy. He likes to tell us really practical things that we can use in everyday situations, things that are interesting and that I will probably always remember. He does, however, fail at life when it comes to teaching us any of the academic crap - the crap that we're going to get tested on and that we probably will never use again but need to know this very moment.
I can't blame him. I'll just be watching youtube tutorials before every class now, and maybe some of what he says will be a pleasant surprise.
I packed up my shit. I got into my car. I felt happy for a split second because I love my car and I just got it washed and the oil changed and I can tell that it's happier and that even though I will continue to pay out the ass for it for the next 3 years, it's mine and I'm taking good care of it.
I started driving.
I felt so hopeless for a minute, I understood why people give up on life and how much easier it would be to just die and not have to fail at anything or be disappointed at how your life doesn't turn out like you wanted it to.
I started thinking about how I could have stayed at Planned Parenthood and be doing ultrasounds and coordinating AB's by now, and drawing blood and giving injections and working my way up and feeling like I'm doing something worthwhile. How I'm not sure if I can handle this. How I'm not sure I can handle nursing school if I can't handle this fucking class.
I turned off of Old Redwood Hwy, randomly thinking of a time I was working at the animal hospital and couldn't stop laughing at something really inappropriate when I was doing an intake. Something was going on with the dog's butt and I can't remember exactly why, but the way the owner explained it had made me start laughing, and it was one of those times where you know you shouldn't laugh so it makes it harder not to and I wanted to die and had to excuse myself from the room. It was such a dick move and I'm lucky the owner thought it was funny and didn't say anything or get mad.
I started laughing but then felt my face contort and realized that I was crying.
Mother fucking hell.
I've never really been depressed. I thought I was depressed when Jesse broke up with me in high school. That was bullshit and I took it really hard. Makes me feel lame now, but it's true. I guess I've just never felt depressed about myself, like so unhappy with myself that I don't know what to do about it. This isn't about something I can easily change, like exercising more or cutting my hair or taking better care of myself. This isn't like that.
This is deeper, like an utter despair that I keep trying to fight off with the fact that this is only a class. It's a class that I'm taking that I need to pass. This class cannot replace love, or friendships, or experiences. It does not qualify me as a person in life. It does not say anything about my character in the long run, in the grand scheme of all things living.
And while that keeps me sane, it also maybe allows me to resent it more and to fight it. And I need to try to do this. I want to try to do this.
It's going to be okay.
I couldn't study at the coffee shop. There were two other men crammed into the same corner with me, one on his computer and the other reading a newspaper, who felt the need to turn towards us and kept looking over the top of the paper at me every once in a while. Was my book distracting him? Was my look of utter dissatisfaction with my life and choices I have made in my nonexistent career thus far making him uncomfortable? I promised myself that if anyone told me "Hey, smile a little" I would throw my book at their face.
I finally got tired of staring at my book in defeat, wondering how I had missed the fact that we learned about joints in lecture for 2.5 seconds and how this study guide reflected anything that we had learned in class. It didn't. Apparently we're supposed to teach ourselves the anatomy of muscle, bone, joints and everyfuckingthingelse. My professor is a really nice guy who is a physical therapist at Kaiser and loves anatomy. He likes to tell us really practical things that we can use in everyday situations, things that are interesting and that I will probably always remember. He does, however, fail at life when it comes to teaching us any of the academic crap - the crap that we're going to get tested on and that we probably will never use again but need to know this very moment.
I can't blame him. I'll just be watching youtube tutorials before every class now, and maybe some of what he says will be a pleasant surprise.
I packed up my shit. I got into my car. I felt happy for a split second because I love my car and I just got it washed and the oil changed and I can tell that it's happier and that even though I will continue to pay out the ass for it for the next 3 years, it's mine and I'm taking good care of it.
I started driving.
I felt so hopeless for a minute, I understood why people give up on life and how much easier it would be to just die and not have to fail at anything or be disappointed at how your life doesn't turn out like you wanted it to.
I started thinking about how I could have stayed at Planned Parenthood and be doing ultrasounds and coordinating AB's by now, and drawing blood and giving injections and working my way up and feeling like I'm doing something worthwhile. How I'm not sure if I can handle this. How I'm not sure I can handle nursing school if I can't handle this fucking class.
I turned off of Old Redwood Hwy, randomly thinking of a time I was working at the animal hospital and couldn't stop laughing at something really inappropriate when I was doing an intake. Something was going on with the dog's butt and I can't remember exactly why, but the way the owner explained it had made me start laughing, and it was one of those times where you know you shouldn't laugh so it makes it harder not to and I wanted to die and had to excuse myself from the room. It was such a dick move and I'm lucky the owner thought it was funny and didn't say anything or get mad.
I started laughing but then felt my face contort and realized that I was crying.
Mother fucking hell.
I've never really been depressed. I thought I was depressed when Jesse broke up with me in high school. That was bullshit and I took it really hard. Makes me feel lame now, but it's true. I guess I've just never felt depressed about myself, like so unhappy with myself that I don't know what to do about it. This isn't about something I can easily change, like exercising more or cutting my hair or taking better care of myself. This isn't like that.
This is deeper, like an utter despair that I keep trying to fight off with the fact that this is only a class. It's a class that I'm taking that I need to pass. This class cannot replace love, or friendships, or experiences. It does not qualify me as a person in life. It does not say anything about my character in the long run, in the grand scheme of all things living.
And while that keeps me sane, it also maybe allows me to resent it more and to fight it. And I need to try to do this. I want to try to do this.
It's going to be okay.