It’s Finals Week. My third Finals Week, to be exact.
This semester, academically, has been a struggle. I’m a Humanities major for a reason; I’m terrible at science. I decided to knock out my last two Gen Eds this semester, and I’m worried about the way my GPA will suffer because of it.
I never wanted to go to college. My entire life I wanted to write books, and I always thought that my books would be most good, authentic, influential, what have you, if I graduated high school and jumped into real life. Real life, after all, was what I wanted to write about.
But I have always been the Smart One, in my family. I come from working class, uneducated parents. I was denoted as Gifted when I was eight years old. I attended an Academic Academy my entire middle/high school career. In my family, I had the brains. And that’s really all I ever had–besides my voice, but that’s for another time.
So when Senior Year came around, and everyone was applying to schools and picking majors and Finding Their Way–well, that’s what I did.
I don’t regret it, not for a second. My mom would never admit this to me, but I always felt like if I didn’t go to college she would’ve taken it like a slap in face. She worked hard to provide for me so that I could dedicate all my time to my studies. And she may not be putting me through college now, but she’s part of the reason I made it this far. I owe it to her to be the first person in my family with a Bachelor’s–the second ever to graduate from college.
In the light of Finals Week, it’s hard to find that same justification.
I have disappointing grades and low motivation to improve them.
I probably need to see a doctor about my anxiety.
I probably need to recognize my unhealthy relationship with food.
There are a lot of things I probably need to do.
Instead I will go to my history final exam review. I will chug this mocha from Starbucks. I will read three Chapters of my Astronomy textbook, study the Quizlet for German, fill out the study guide for Women and Gender Studies. I will try to go to bed at a decent hour.
I will do it all again tomorrow, and breathe when the air doesn’t taste like stress anymore.