I arrive home from class tonight…
After sitting through 5 hours, and two classes.
I walk with one professor to her office hours to be pulled aside from another professor…
“I just wanted to let you know, your submission was incomplete, and will be graded as such.”
I walk the rest of the way to office hours where the creation of an anxiety attack is brewing.
As I await outside their door, I jot down what I have left to do to “survive” this semester.
-1500 word take home final on Yoga
- 5 page paper on foreign film, Followed by viewing 10 foreign films
- Final and a two page paper
- “Fix” my lousy submission and write exit paper for major, and create a half hour presentation
- 10 page thesis
“You’re gonna submit your paper to the Comparative Religion Student Journal, right?”
Yes, let me get right on that, as I have two weeks to create something scholarly.
I drive home, slightly freaking out.
I can feel the anxiety inside my chest.
So much worry.
So much unrest.
So much fear.
I make it home, to a quiet house and pull out my phone as my mother asks if I am okay.
I am not okay.
I am exhausted, mentally, physically, spiritually, etc.
I want to do well.
I hate failing for I feel like I am failing myself.
I know I am capable of more…
And that lies my problem.
So, I nod my head, yet again and stumble out a reply of yes.
But really, all I want to do is cry.
All I want to do is run (literally, a nice jog)
All I want to do is scream aloud.
All I want is Jesus.
I am not okay.