Tonight I had my second meeting of my data analysis class. Last fall’s installment, the precursor to this semester’s course, wasn’t all that hard. Sure, it introduced new concepts foreign to most of us in the cohort, but our professor was very patient, explaining things time and time again and drawing from a single data source example throughout the course. By contrast, the spring semester installment is radically different. I think the instructor is no less capable of explaining things in a way at least I can understand, but we’re operating at such a higher level of mathematical concept that my brain literally hurts — it throbs, pain shoots through the back of my head, etc. — when I leave.
Tonight, I very nearly had what most closely approximates a nervous breakdown for me. I didn’t fall onto the ground randomly in a pool of tears and shakes, but I did find myself having trouble with the most basic things… and the sight of Rags’s nearly empty dog food container (I needed to get food this weekend but didn’t get to it) was enough to send me into the emotional stratosphere.
It’s not that the work load is unmanageable, just that I, personally, am doing a rotten job of managing it. The added stress of my arch nemesis at work (even though I’m now physically present in the office less than 10 hours a week and am on my way out the door) stirring up nonstop trouble is not helping matters. And the fact that other, more social aspects of life have been taking a nosedive of late, well, that only exacerbates an already tense situation.
There are things I want to do but cannot… I wanted to go to the Mavs game last night, but I just couldn’t part with the time it would have taken; I want to go see Greg Behrendt at the Improv this weekend, but I’m fast approaching the unfortunate milestone of being two weeks behind in reading for at least one, if not more, of my classes — which, mind you, started only 8 days ago.
Daniel’s not taking classes this spring, which is good for him, but he’s made that decision because he wants to get some stuff done around the house, and that means I’m left sitting in my reading position armed with books, articles and highlighters while he’s lugging power tools, screwdrivers, extension cords, and dangly light accessories around the house. He wants — nay, needs — my help in certain situations, and I feel guilty for taking 10 minutes out to give it to him.
I know the people at school can relate, but in many ways (and I apologize if this sounds hurtful to any of you) I feel like nobody in my close circle really understands. As I said, it’s not as if the workload is unmanageable; it’s just not being managed well, and part of that (I feel) is because I haven’t done a good enough job making clear what my expectations are during this time. I feel very unsupported, in some ways (and that’s not meant at a jab against anyone in particular). I feel so unbelievably torn.
I also feel incapable of making the tough choices. I can’t even decide what to eat or where to get/eat it anymore… and some think my inability to make these simple choices is somehow motivated by things like anger, sadness, or stress. In fact, I just don’t have the mental energy for it. Maybe that sounds crazy to you, but it’s precisely how I feel. I am barely struggling to find the mental energy to decipher my readings and keep afloat with homework (again, classes started only 8 days ago); of what importance is it, really, deciphering the relative merits of, say, a chicken sandwich vs. a cheeseburger?
Last Thursday, the Plano HR department called to offer me (tentatively) the small part-time job I interviewed for the week earlier. I was flattered and appreciated their interest, but the task of deciding whether or not to accept the job damn near did me in. I could very easily sketch out the pros and cons, but weighting them in a way that was personally meaningful? It was too much; I literally COULD NOT do it. In the end, I asked for 24 hours to think about it, came up with little insight, and called them back to turn it down. This I did for many reasons that I won’t go into here, but in the end I just couldn’t imagine giving up 4 hours a week plus one weekend a month would do any good towards alleviating my outside-of-work stress.
Hell, I’m only writing this now because I had that insanely mind-numbing data analysis class earlier, and I’ve just made it a rule that following Tuesday night’s class, I cannot subject my brain to further mental activity. I know you build muscle by straining beyond your current strength and then letting it rebuild stronger (or something like that), but I’m hear to tell you, three hours of data analysis on Tuesday nights is WAY beyond my current brain strength. I need rest, or it’ll never sink in.
This is particularly stressful tonight, as I’ve promised my soon-to-be-former boss I’d have something ready for her early tomorrow morning, PLUS I’ve got a paper due at 2 p.m. tomorrow covering six readings, two of which I haven’t had a chance to finish yet. DAMMIT!!! Still, I’m convinced that trying to understand complicated international relations research methods tonight would be an exercise in utter futility. Which is why I’m now going to bed — YES, at 9:15 p.m., with the hopefully not vain hope of getting some peaceful rest so I can be up at an insanely early hour tomorrow starting again.
Chant with me now, please:
Hawaii in May.
Hawaii in May.
Hawaii in May.
etc.