At 5 pm on a Sunday evening it occurs to me I’ve not provided any constructive feedback to my peers, and feedback is a whopping twenty-percent of my grade. Suddenly I felt exhausted and incapable of reading another word, let alone able to expend the energy to provide my opinion of them.
“For God sake focus!” I thought to myself in frustration.
Be productive. Make something of yourself. Follow your dreams. Fuck Covid. Fuck limitations. Now’s the time.
Those were the thought patterns that led me back to college. I don’t actually make big decisions like that without consulting with the higher up. So I dug into my history, revived my prior efforts, picked a college and applied. No fingers crossed, no anxiety, no waiting by the phone. At the time it felt like a game of bulls-eye, and since my heart was the target, I waited patiently not at all concerned about the outcome. If only I felt so zen-like about other aspects of life.
Next thing I knew, I’d been enrolled in third-year studies after a fifteen-year hiatus. The decision went in my scrapbook of actions that waved me forward, through an obvious ‘Yes’ starting line.
So at 5 pm on a Sunday, after torturing my children, cleaning, working, writing, and playing games for stress-relief, I had the beginnings of what felt like a mini panic-attack. Flashback after flashback returned to remind me how lack of focus had such an impact on me then all the way to now. It took several hours of running around in my head before I could force myself to communicate, study, and follow what felt to be new and rigid protocols.
At midnight I was done, but knew I wouldn’t sleep, and that I’d encounter the same feelings in a day or two. They all lead me to question the process of becoming better, and the avenues taken to get there, that place of no arrival.
It’s a challenge to hold yourself accountable when no one knows what you’re doing or why, but a challenge is not a reason to quit, it’s a reason to keep going.