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Truths

Beaten By A Swamp Rat

There aren’t many things in this world that break me. I’ve been through a lot (just like everyone has) and I pride myself on the fact that when need be I can push myself through the majority of situations. But this research methods class is ten times worse than Physics and I know if I continue it this semester, I will not be working to my full potential.

Or is that just an excuse?

It’s gotten to the point where I can’t tell if I’ve been making my life decisions or if my anxiety has. I don’t like being anyone’s puppet and I certainly don’t enjoy being a puppet to myself. I mean for fucks sake that doesn’t even make sense. I rushed out of that classroom like no one’s business today, breathing shallow, sweating, heart pounding, eyes watering, and that familiar wave of failure washing through my veins. At least, I take it as a failure.

I take it as a failure because I know myself too well. I know my personality is not that which I portray every day (quiet, aloof, boring, small) and I know I have the potential to lead six experiments, I know I have the potential to work with a team all semester, and I know I have the potential to conduct an experiment with that team and present it towards the end of semester. I know I do. I feel it.

And that’s where the anger comes from. Knowing I have abilities I’m too scared to test. Knowing what I want to do with the rest of my life is staring me right in the face and yet I’m miles away from it. I’m fucking eons away from it.

I like quick fixes. Maybe it’s time I accept I need a little more practice and a little more help (socially) before I could ever dream of succeeding in this class. And that’s hard to swallow. I’d convinced myself I’ve been doing so well.

Or maybe that’s yet another excuse.

How I deal with emotions.

I have three other classes that are already stressing me out (It’s only been TWO DAYS) and I fear if I keep this class it’s going to effect them, just as Physics effected my calculus grade. Another excuse maybe?

I don’t know what to think anymore. There shouldn’t be any shame in putting your health first and yet I feel it’s the most cowardly thing to do. I need to learn how to slow down. If throwing myself into a super-anxious situation cured my anxiety it would have been cured a long time ago. Maybe I just need to ease into things, work on it through this semester and over winter break, then pick up this class in the spring and ace it like I know I fucking can. I know I can. I’m not short of confidence in my skills in the class, only of my skills for life. I can’t cope with stress, with people, with anything. What’s the point of doing something mediocre when I could do something near perfection with a little more work, dedication, and time?

Time is the key word. It takes years to get a degree, not months like I want it to. Either way I’m going to be taking time so I might as well just learn to deal with it. I’ll get to my goal. But I’m not like everyone else, I know this better than anyone. I need to do things differently, a little slower, a little more strategic. And I don’t feel like that’s an excuse.

Maybe it is. Maybe everything is an excuse for nothing.

The last thing I need right now is a triggered depression so I better fucking wake up feeling alright tomorrow. If I don’t I’m going to personally punch the little people in my head. Especially the swamp rat I call anxiety.

I have a lot of fight. I don’t give into people, into society, and I’d never give into myself, not when I know all my weaknesses and all my strengths. When I get knocked down this hard I crawl my way to a railing and yank myself back up. I don’t lay down and die. I should have the upper hand. I do. I just don’t know how to exercise it yet. Everything is a struggle but nothing is a battle I can’t win. I could spend all my time wishing I was like other people, wishing I had a support system, wishing I had this, wishing I had that, and ignoring the fact that I can be who I want if I just practice.

No one learns calculus by watching a professor do an anti-derivative on the board (If you learned that way, then fuck you and your smartness), they learn by doing the work themselves. So how could I expect to learn how to interact with people by just watching them? I don’t think that means I should subject myself to constant states of anxiety by taking four classes, all of which I have to interact with people on a very large scale on a daily basis. I think it means I need to practice. We don’t do all seventeen chapters in the calculus book in one semester, so I can’t expect to wash away fifteen years of anxiety by shoving myself into one anxious situation. I need consistency, I need moderation.

I need to breathe. I’ll be fine.

I have therapy tomorrow. Maybe she can give me an opinion.

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About AlishiaDee (378 Articles)
Alishia D. is a blogger, a beginning novelist, and a counselor at 2nd Story Peer Respite house where diagnostic labels and the culture of mental health is long forgotten. She's a mental health peer who has bounced through as many labels as she has doctors, and enjoys being sarcastic when she can. She also hates writing in 3rd person.

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