When I get tired in class, there are two things I do.
- Burrow my head in my sweater or jacket and nod off.
- Start cussing like a sailor in my notes.
For example, this morning in math I was not excited to spend three hours talking about shit I’ve already done before. As you probably already know, I’m in Calculus. So I’m not a genius here; still stuck in the lower mathematics and honestly, with all the other types of classes I have to take, I’m okay with that.
In my defense, my social anxiety has kept me back from a lot of things and one of those things has been excelling in math. But we won’t talk about why. We’ll, instead, give an excerpt from my notes from this morning:
“For fuck sake, I’m tired!
Ex:/ Find the fucking surface area generated when this bullshit: x=1 + 2y^2, limits from 1-2, is fucking flipped around like a ballerina on crack about the x-axis. Fuck me. Shit.
General fucking formula: 2piydS
Fucking Arc shit: sqrt 1+[F'(x)]^2 dx, sqrt 1+[F'(x)]^2 dy”
Don’t believe that’s what I write? Well, here you go:
That’s what happens when you work all weekend, get four hours of sleep, and don’t feel like dealing with this shit.
If I had never seen calc 2 in my life before like some of the students in my class who often walk out of the class with this expression:
than I probably would have taken much more serious notes. But let’s be honest here folks, this shit isn’t rocket science. If you get the theory of it, if you understand the steps, if you can picture graphs in your head, if you can see past the non-existent existence of infinity, and you can plug into the formulas with a little creativity, than you should be good.
I still remember the second week of class when we started tackling real integration, not the pussy shit they cover in first semester calculus. The faces of the newer students, the arrogance they had coming into the class, the whole “I’m smarter than my friends” attitude, washed down the drain real quick. As soon as you shove integration by parts and partial fractions in their face, they all crumble. They should have read ahead in the book like I had before I took my first calc 2 class.
I would have been finished with the calc series by now, and at least onto . . . whatever the hell comes next. But I kept having to drop the classes. The first time I took calc 1, I missed too many classes (family issues, depression, anxiety e.t.c). The second time I passed. The first time I took calc 2 I had to drop because of family issues, depression, anxiety, e.t.c. See a pattern yet? So here I am, taking this bullshit for the second time again.
If only my mental health affected me at home, in the closed doors and shut windows of my room. If only they didn’t interfere with my physics classes, with my math classes, with what professors I take and which ones I avoid, with who I talk to and who I don’t, with how to get a reference letters, with my job, with communication in general.
If only I could control which symptoms shown themselves when. Oh how sweet life would be.
But I’m thankful for many things.
I’m thankful I have the opportunity to go to school at all, whether it be university or junior.
I’m thankful I’m physically pretty healthy, healthy enough to push my way through my mental blocks and try to live my life as well as possible.
I’m thankful for my boyfriend. He can put up with all my issues and non-verbalness and that he’s been able to become more understanding as time as passed; we’ll hit our two year anniversary this July. I consider myself pretty lucky to have someone like him, he’s a rarity these days.
We tried making gelatin soda the other night, while baking a cake. The cake came out good. The gelatin soda . . .
I was almost on the floor rolling in laughter. We followed a video off of YouTube but there was a disconnect in the video between what you’re supposed to do with the gelatin and how it should react. We ended up with stank ass non-flavored gelatin melted hard onto the microwave plate, on the counter top, in the sink, and clumped on our hands. Be wary of YouTube instructional videos, you guys, seriously.
I’m thankful for my brain, as “crazy” as that sounds. I don’t know what I’d do without it. It torments me and cradles me and entertains me and if I was anyone other than who I am I’d probably be disgusted with myself.
I’m thankful for a lot of things, in fact. I complain a lot and sometimes I get knocked down but I’ve never once laid on the floor and accepted my fate. I’ve learned not to fight my depression when it overtakes me, I’ve learned to work with it and around it and if that means taking a few steps backwards than by all means I go with the flow.
I’ve learned not to completely hate my anxiety, I’ve learned there are advantages and I accept them and when they give me trouble and I beat myself up over it, I go through the motions so I can look back on it and analyze it and tell myself: wow, there, there, and there you were exaggerating, do you see that?
When I struggle with jealousy over watching non-mentally-conflicted people get on with their lives and be happy and maybe stressed out occasionally I remind myself that me and that person are not the same people. I remind myself that I can be just as successful as them as long as I’m happy with who I am and what I’m doing. I remind myself there’s no point in focusing on someone else’s life. It’s their life. How do their successes and failures concern me?
As much as physicists and biologists would like it to be true, it is not true that we’ll ever learn everything there is to learn about life and our existence. For that reason, I’d say don’t take anything for granted, not even your worst moments. Because once it’s over, you don’t know what’s next. Maybe nothing.
Think about how weird it would be to never see the clouds or feel the sun or hear the birds chirp? What about seeing the face of your significant other or hearing your child’s laughter? How weird would it be to never wake up again? Don’t think about how it would feel to not have any problems, think about how weird it would feel to not have anything at all.
Those of us who have tendency towards suicidal thoughts . . . we often get lost in them. And it can be hard to remember the little things. The things that don’t necessarily bring us out of our depression or bring us unlimited happiness, but the little things that make up daily life, the things we don’t always pay so much attention to.
Sometimes they’re worth more than anything.
What does this have to do with math? Absolutely nothing.