College, amirite?

I talk so much about how I want to be a counselor. I want to help people. Specifically, I want to help people with PTSD. I want to show people they can get through it.

But I can’t be a counselor because I don’t have a masters degree. Or, (this is even more frustrating for me) counselor jobs that don’t require a masters, but require “however many years of experience”. HOW DO YOU GET EXPERIENCE IF THEY WONT HIRE YOU?!?! FYI they don’t mean “however many years of experience with seeing a counselor” otherwise I’d already have the job.

So really, the best solution would be to go back to school for my masters. But I’m scared. Financially, it’s terrifying but the other terrifying thing is what if I can’t graduate????

I always had a hard time in school. From elementary all the way through college.

Anyone who has ADHD/ADD knows how fucking hard it is to sit down and study. But then to take what you’ve studied and apply it to a test? Fuck that.

I am a horrible test taker. Test Stress (AKA Test Anxiety). It’s so real. Having to sit still, in a silent room, knowing your future depends on your answer to a bunch of questions. Put in me in the field, and I will blow everyone’s mind away with the information I retained, but put a piece of paper with some questions that I have to answer, and it’s just awful.

To make it worse, when I have to sit silently and try to concentrate, my brain betrays me. My brain on Test Stress: “Yeah prefrontal cortex might be the answer or it’s………..hey! Remember that time at Thanksgiving 5 years ago when your sister’s new boyfriend sneezed/farted at the table?” Or some other random, hilarious thought, and then I am laughing out loud. In the middle of an exam. I am doing a real life LOL. And then I have to excuse myself so I can run to the bathroom, risk flunking the test (because of the “no bathroom breaks” rule to reduce cheating), laugh hysterically, then give myself a stern talking to in the mirror about needing to calm the fuck down. This happened every. single. time.

My first four years of college were spent trying to get a high enough GPA to graduate with a major in business. I wanted to open a surf shop (I’d still like to. That dream isn’t gone). To be fair, drinking like it was my second job didn’t help either.

And then my junior year of college, my dad passed away. My mind and emotions were all over the place. My grades plummeted. I took the semester off, got a real second job. Not stressing about school was a nice change.

I decided to back to college in the fall. Closer to the end of my senior year, I talked to my advisor. She pulled up my records, advises “You can graduate if you retake these three classes with an A or B”……..bitch, I’ve already had to retake those exact three classes to get a fucking C to pass. AND NOW I HAVE TO RE-REATKE THEM??????? Nope. Change my major. Right now. I have come too damn far to just drop out.

Changed my major to Psychology and boom. My grades were through the roof. I got A’s and B’s in almost everything. For the first time in my life, I actually ENJOYED studying. Of course I didn’t make dean’s list, some of the classes I’d previously transferred over so those grades didn’t help my GPA, but if they gave Most Improved awards, I’d be more proud of that piece of paper than a diploma.

I started classes for my new major that summer and continued on. Everything was going so good. I had good grades, the perfect dog, a new boyfriend, became manager at the surf shop I worked at. And then spring semester started.

I was taking one the hardest classes I’ve ever had. Professor did the usual “look to your left, your right, one of you will not be here at the end of the semester” and I knew it’d be me. Test Stress was back in full motion and we hadn’t even had our first exam yet….that was scheduled for Valentine’s Day. I was sure Professor was out to ruin us all. Two weeks in, the person to my right already dropped the class.

Valentine’s Day Eve, I took off work that day and the day after. I needed to pull an all dayer and all nighter. I need to pull a 24 hour-er. I needed to study nonstop. I even bought study guide books (something I’d never done before and to this day still regret not doing sooner because that shit was HELPFUL). But with all I had going on, I didn’t forget my Valentine. I was leaving early in the morning to study more on campus before taking the exam, so I got little gifts for him and set them up all cute on the kitchen counter. I wanted him to see them when he woke up in the morning.

I took the first exam. I didn’t even think about how it went. I was too drained. Walking back to my Jeep, I checked my phone. He texted to let me know I was scheduled me for a massage. Perfection. I needed it. I actually cried during the massage because I was so happy. That night turned into The Night that changed everything. The Night I had to be taken to the ER. Because he got too drunk.

I had to call my boss at 3am to tell her I wasn’t coming into work that day. “You can’t call out for a hangover” she joked. I told her I was in the ER because he……..I started sobbing. I couldn’t get the words out. But she knew. She wasn’t just my boss, she was one of my best friends, she knew. My work absence was excused.

After getting discharged from the hospital, I knew I needed to email my Professor to say I wouldn’t be in class the next day and why. Class attendance was mandatory, unless for emergency reasons. My emergency felt pretty reasonable.

But before I sent the email, I decided to check my exam grade. I was stalling. Grades are never posted that soon after exams. Flat out, I didn’t want to send the email. I didn’t want to explain why I wouldn’t be in class. I’d already written it down once for the police report. I couldn’t do it again. It made it too real. I considered emailing “I won’t be in class tomorrow because NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS” but I considered more just dropping out. Start my new life living at my mom’s, making a nest of blankets and pillows on the couch, and never leaving the house again.

But I figured I’d check the grades anyway, see if I really needed to bother him or if I’d be needing to email my advisor instead since the deadline to drop the class was coming up.

Checked my exam grade and there it was. A mother fucking B-

MIRACLES DO HAPPEN!!!!!!!!!!!!

I emailed him regarding my absence, told him why in the vaguest way possible and my absence was excused.

The second exam: After pulling another 24 hour-er, I was about to leave my mom’s for campus to take the exam when a stomach bug hit. It hit HARD. I threw up all morning. Thought I was ok to drive, and 5 minutes down the road I had to pull over to throw up again. And then shit my pants. I was not going to that exam. Thankfully, it was still early that morning because I threw my underwear away in a trash can outside of a Petsmart so there was no one around to see. I sped home to my mom’s, wrapped in the spare beach towel I kept in my Jeep praying I could make it before it hit again. I made it and got right in the shower. I had to email Professor again. I gave my reason, then had to go to the doctor to get a note for it to be excused. That poor doctor’s office. I threw up and shitted in the bathroom of the waiting area until a nurse had to knock on the door. The doctor didn’t even bother taking me into the exam room, they took my temperature right outside of the office’s exit, wrote the doctor note and sent me on my way. Fastest visit to to doctor ever. Professor excused my absence, but the final would count as double. Enter TEST STRESS. At this point the universe was saying “if you keep taking this class, you will DIE”. I was literally scared for my life to take the final.

The Final: Another 24 hour-er down and thank God we were allowed bathroom breaks because I had to excuse myself three times from uncontrollable laughter over how I shit myself on my way to the second exam.

The Class: By some unseen greater power, I did not die, and I passed the class with a B-

Three years later I graduated. Seven years of college and I finally have a piece of paper that my mom had framed and hangs proudly on her wall. She is so proud of it, but for me, not so much. It’s always taunting me. “With this, you can’t do shit until your masters diploma is hanging right next to me”.

So, basically I need to go back to school but I’m scared. Things now are great. I got an amazing man, my dogs, a new job. I don’t know if I could go back to school. I don’t know what it would be like to not have a shit storm of things happen to me while I’m trying to pass a class.

Of everything I was taught in college, the best lessons I learned were about myself. I learned to never to give up, that I am a strong, smart, badass woman, and I can survive anything.

If I go back, and my only hurdles are my ADHD symptoms and hilarious thoughts popping up during an exam, will it really be that bad? I always say I’ll start school again soon, but this time I think I’m really ready. I’ll start looking into it again for fall semester 2021…..just kidding. I’ll start looking into it this year.