I usually don’t cuss. Mostly because I feel pretentious, like a kid trying to be “cool”.
But lately I’ve been loaded with so much stress that I feel like I could explode. I snap at people, I dig my nails into my palms, I pull at my hair, I stop breathing, I grind my teeth, until I feel a tiny little bit better. Until I feel the pressure on my chest isn’t going to shatter me into thousand pieces.
This probably isn’t a healthy way to deal with stress.
But what can you do if you are drowning with all the information pouring in, things you have to do, and warning bells go off in your head and it’s so freaking loud and you feel like you have to do something to make it all stop.
It doesn’t stop. Just so you know.
The core of panic is still there, building up so it can rocket off again.
At times like these, I so friggin’ hate myself for taking EVERYthing so seriously. Granted, studying Law is like (at least for me) trying to read without having learned the alphabet. Some days you make progress. Then you learn new things that make you despair that you will never fully grasp this stuff.
Cue in my OCD-ish nature peppered with perfectionism.
It’s a meltdown every other day.
After a few hours of this panicking, causing physical pain to stop the mental pain, and calming down only to panic (not full blown-out panic) again, I arm myself with a metaphorical kitchen knife to chop all tasks that I have to do in small, tiny bits. Looking at this slaughtered problems doesn’t make my throat go tight. Then I distribute the problems, and sleep soundly for the night.
The real problem kicks in the next day. Even small quantities make a large quantity when combined. And I can’t afford to go slow, because then I’ll hopelessly fall behind and will never catch up.
University doesn’t wait for anyone. Either you keep up, or it’s goodbye.
So I crawl on my knees until I have the strength to stand on my feet. What I can’t do is to rest. Because I’m in a constant wheel of running and crawling.
What I need to do is to take it day by day. To look only at the next step, not the whole road stretching out, out, out in front of me. What I need to do is to chill the fuck out, and to think of pretty things ’cause thinking of pretty things makes me at least a little bit happy.