Mama Countdown, cont.

...days left.

purchase wine a plenty. Check.

Coronas. Check.

Food for homecooked meals...that she doesn't have to cook herself. Check.

Clean, clean, clean so she's not tempted. Check, check, check.

Make some drinks, sit down, and enjoy New Years Day. Almost there.

Countdown

DAYS UNTIL MY MAMA ARRIVES!

Tying Up Loose Ends

Just a hodge podge of all what's flying through my mind...trying to organize thoughts, check boxes marked as "return to," fill in empty spaces, and answer a few questions before I dive deeper back into my head (and hopefully the page)...

[::] There's been discussion going on in the comments section of this post. You should read it. I think what just happened was that moment when you get right up on something...but then stop because of the blow up that might occur afterwards...even though the blowup is what moves people (some people) toward growth. I've been thinking about why I didn't respond with as much enthusiasm/anger/frustration/energy on the page/in the comments as I did in the house as I was discussing it all with the man. He said, "why didn't you write that?" Meaning, what I said, in the way that I said it, to him. Great question. I don't have a good answer, except that maybe that moment was coming, full steam, where I was going to "go off" and then there would be aftermath. Ironically, I had just said that I wasn't afraid of confrontation. Hm. I don't think I am afraid of confrontation...at least not in person I'm not, so what's going on? Maybe it's about not wanting to feel like I have to defend myself on this blog because I do that so often everywhere else. It's also because I can obviously talk much faster than I can type, and while bouncing all of this off of the man, I am able to flush out what the hell I'm thinking because his questions come in real time, not the next day...and I'm just tired of explaining to others. Especially when they don't wanna hear/understand it enough to go do their own thinking about it. But when the dialog is honest, I love the interaction. There was one thing I wanted to respond to though, and that's whether I always bring it (whatever it is) back to race when talking or asking a question in class. The short answer is NO because, believe it or not, I rarely speak in class...I don't have the patience for it. But when people ask my opinion, I give it to them. And I try not to hold back. A lot of times that opinion includes race, how could it not? Ask a stay at home mother to never talk about their children, a midwife to not talk about birth, a CEO to not talk about money, a volunteer to not talk about purpose. Almost impossible, why? Because it's part of their identity. I'm walking around in this skin. It's part of me. How do I...why would I, walk, talk, and act as though it's not? Furthermore, in class, when I have the energy, why say what everyone else is saying? I know you want to talk about eating right...but when I mention the cost of eating right in my neighborhood, how do I do that without the lens of race when your next question is "why is what is sold in your grocery store different than what's in my grocery story?" I can try to explain that without saying because my life/my needs/my health is not valued as much as yours is....but then you ask "why not?" Why in the hell am I supposed to refrain from saying because I'm black and therefore devalued and not worth meat that doesn't say "use or freeze by (today's date.)" What you want is for me to avoid talking about race because it makes you uncomfortable. Fuck what is happening to me, let's make it easy for you.


NO.


Or, you want me to stay focused on the fact that there are poor white people, poor people of every color, and so let's just talk about poor people in general...not poor black people specifically. Or that those in Africa are even poorer than we are here in America. I'll leave it to you to talk about poor white people...in my community there were very few poor white people. Maybe I should talk about that one day, because I know that people who grow up in places that are "diverse" are sometimes shocked that in other parts of the country segregation is still very much alive and functioning. But I also refuse because even poor white people have the protection (although I should think of something else to call it) of white privilege, and therefore, even if we eat the same thing, go to the same community centers, or frequent the same theaters....when the police arrive, we are not just poor people....we are black people and white people, and when you reach for your wallet to prove your identity, they aren't going to shoot you, but me? Maybe 42 times.

moving on.

[::] A while ago I mentioned that I was blogsided by a dean at the university. I never emailed her back. But she approached me one day and we ended up talking about it. She wanted to know so that they could use one of the posts during black history month. I told her she could use whatever she wanted...anonymously. She then told me that she had already told the lady who's coordinating the events that she thought the blog belonged to me, and that the lady is supposed to contact me. I told her that when she does, I will deny being the blog's owner because for now I wish to remain anonymous. I also asked her if there was any chance that she could forget that she found me....she laughed.

[::] I mentioned yesterday that someone tried to dissuade me from getting a PhD. I understand. My best friend just had this conversation with me before I left home last year. (Hi H!) And I get where it comes from. Believe me I think about it. I even think about it in terms of the impact that it will have on my understanding of my community...the longer you're away, the farther removed you become...but I also believe that you can take the girl outta the hood, but you can't take the hood outta the girl, so there's hope ;o) What it comes down to for me is that while I think there's a good chance that I would regret not getting one, I know I will not regret getting it. I also know that it's now-ish or never. It takes something to be in school, and once I leave I never want to come back. I don't mean that I don't want to learn anything else, just that I want to learn it on my own terms. I'm also ready to have kids, yes, that means I made a decision to have children, and that they are welcome at any time from now, this moment, to 2012ish. This was a monumental decision in our household ;o) Grad school would be as good a time as any to have them. What meeting with the current nursing PhD student did do for me was get me thinking about a different kind of PhD. That is, to expand my thinking from only earning a PhD in nursing, to considering public health, social policy, sociology, anthropology, etc. I wanted a nursing PhD because I feel like nursing needs more people to bring interdisciplinary ideas to it, but I am also ADAMANT that my PhD is about *me* as much as it is about funding and other people's ideas, so that's something I've been looking into. It's exciting to have the opportunities opened up a little in my mind.

[::] Midwife-to-be asked, in the comments, about doing a study on why more women of color don't have children at home [in this country] and whether it would be offensive (in my opinion) if a white woman were to conduct such a study and whether it would be useful. The short answer is *I* don't think it would be offensive, but do you? Why or why not? Yes, it's irritating to me, that we're always being researched on by others because there aren't enough of us to go around, and it doesn't seem like there's a real push to change this...but offensive is probably a stretch. (And there's the fact that those who are available simply might not be interested in doing this work, and you are...) Compassion, honesty with yourself and the women, awareness about their lives, clear expectations about what they should expect/might get/not get out of it...etc are what I suggest you proceed with....anyone else want to weigh in on this?

[::] Lastly, I want to set something straight: I never said that midwives should never work outside their race and class. What I suggested was a withdrawal of care to see what the community itself would/could come up with. I ALSO said that if one considers herself a member of said community, then I don't expect them to withdraw. I said I do not want to be served by providers to felt like it was their obligation to bring me the care, without considering teaching me how to care for myself so that I wouldn't be dependent on them. I also clarified that this was about me and my community, and that what I wanted was more midwives of color from communities like mine available to provide care. It is not that I do not believe white women should provide care to black women, and it's so sad to see it reduced down to that by others. But what I do believe is that a black impoverished community could benefit from black midwives who come from their environments. I stand by what I said then, and now, 100%.

Brain Spasm

Stewing in old stuff. Racing with new stuff. Too jumbled to write down, really.

Gave the man the week off from dish duty because I felt like he should have a "break" of some kind, like I do. (I do the cookin, he does the cleanin - every time X 7 years and 5o more to come) But I really do HATE washing dishes. Ugh.

Read a chapter of Rock My Soul at the book store today while having coffee, then met with a PhD student from my school to discuss getting a PhD, which was interesting because she pretty calmly discouraged me from doing so...

So much going on.

I'm practicing my knots (for suturing)...which is a kind of cool thing to do as my mind is racing...

Drawing Parallels

I've been thinking about why it's so hard for other people to understand the centralness of race in my life. I was up last night thinking about parallels. Immediately fat came to mind, because fat is also something that I think about daily. It's like this. When you're fat, you think of the world differently...an amusement park takes on a different meaning...will you fit in the ride? Will your seatbelt on the airplane fit? Will you weigh more the recommended maximum for a particular ride? Just how wet will I get if I ride the white water raft ride? Are my clothes going to be completely soaked and therefore clinging to me...how long before I'm dry again? What about the restraunt seats...is there going to be enough space between the bench and the table, or are my breasts going to be in my plate? Sure, I want to go shopping, but going to the mall really isn't as fun if you can only fit the clothes in Lane Bryant or Torrid or Ashley Stewart or Avenue...and of course they NEVER EVER put all of these stores in one mall, or even two of them...so yeah, I'll come but I'm thinking about how long I can stand to watch you try on clothes as I spend all my time in accessories or shoes. And when I'm trying on the shoes I'm wondering if the heel can support my weight and not make me break my ankle. And when we do go to "my" store, I'm paying extra attention to patterns and colors, less I walk out of the store with something that makes me look pregnant (cause for some reason they love, love, love to put bows, and flowers and back ties on "plus size" clothes.) And when I'm on my 5th "lifestyle change" of the year, every time I go out to eat I gotta make sure they have something suitable for whatever the rules of such life style change are. Then every commercial is some skinny ass woman telling me how she lost her hips or breasts or gut or bowels by using the next big thing, and I should call to get some for myself. I could go on and on and on, the point is I think fat people think about these things so often that they might not even realize just how much they think about them. It's a part of their identity.

Here's another: when a woman is going through infertility, all she ever thinks about is infertility. every commercial is a pregnancy test, a pampers commercial, thermometers, a baby story, a fake family selling a car, a cleaning company, grape juice. She reads books about it, she talks about it, cries about it, writes about it. Wants to kind somebody else, anybody else, who's going through it so she doesn't bother those who don't understand with her stress about it. She can pretend that it only has a small impact on her life, but the relaity is that it's probably her whole life in that moment. It affects her interactions with other women, other people. It places her in the realm of "other." It's a part of her identity.

There are many facets of identity that, I think, manifest this way. Sure you're a person with a complex personality, but there are always salient aspects of identity. Women whose conversations/lives center around their children. Or their professions. Whose identities are shaped by motherhood...or midwifery. At our best we attempt to address all of the parts of ourselves...doing the work to identify on multiple layered levels...ie: I am not only someone's partner, a midwife, a mother...I am also a writer, a dancer, a knitter, a woman, transgender, gay, queer, lesbian, none of these, all of these. Bit even when I am tuning it to all that/who I am, there are some things with which I more strongly identify...when I'm

A Day of Rest

The man and I

Homesick

Creepin up on me.

Today is my brother's 13th birthday.

Happy Birthday, boonness.

We're a Christmas family.

The next few days will be hard.

Tonight I'm watchin Beloved again because it's new on the free movies channel.

I Realize

In the comments of my post about stress and race and health disparities, dark daughta said this:

"I'm going back up to read some more. But I wanted to stop here for a quick sec:"maybe the reality is that they don’t want to"It's hard to ground in the reality that white domination IS about giving certain people a disproportionte amount of stress so that others may experience joy and well being.People of colour and poor people carry the burden so that white people and affluent people don't have to.That's the point of this sick little game we call domination.This is a screaming affair when we think that all the helping professions are peopled overwhelmingly with white people and with affluent people.This is the reason why things don't seem to get any better. This is the reason why it seems like such an awful struggle for those who try to make change from within these power structures.Most governing structures aren't designed to make change. They're designed to uphold it while maintaining the appearance that they are trying to make things better.So, they do their "research", they write their documents, their papers, they publish what they've "found". But that's as far as it goes because that's as far as it's supposed to go.This is where the dance happens. People with good hearts and some politics who understand that there is power inside certain helping structures, inside certain service professions try to utilize these papers to make change.But it's like trying to shoe horn a whales fin into a man's shoe. One wasn't meant to fit into the other. It just isn't supposed to happen.It's a ritual dance. An energy absorbing dance. An emotion screaming, hair pulling out dance.And when it gets to be enough, when the crying and struggling and hoping for some sort of substantial change inside any given system or profession gets to be enough for those who struggle, when enough is enough, they say you're burnt out.They never say, the system was designed in such a way so as to wear your resolve down, to grind you down until nothing remains and until you blame yourself for not being smart enough, strategic enough, enough of a player of the game. It's your fault you, not the system buckled.Don't buckle. But I think you realize what you're dealing with as you study midwifery, no?"

What you’re talking about is what I call one of my conspiracy theories. I do realize it…what I’m up against…the situation as it stands. I realize it’s not supposed to get better…it’s not supposed to change…it is my opinion that this is why we have committees in institutions, to keep track of how much “progress” is being made so that if at any point there is a threat of changing the balance, it can be stopped dead in its tracks. I realize that the illusion is that by working hard and playing by the rules (most times :O) things will begin to change. I realize that the master’s tools are not supposed to be able to dismantle the master’s house. I would love to create change by stepping completely out of the preset world of academic midwifery…in my dreams I am a homebirth midwife warrior who works with teenage women in my community…not just to catch their babies…but to talk…to listen…to teach…to learn…to live out my days surrounded by life and death and love…and then I would go to those places where the academics gather and say whatever it is I need them to hear and then turn around and walk right back out…home to my family, where I’m home schooling 5 kids with the man, and peeling yams, and then locking myself into a room of my own to write until I fall asleep with the pen in my hand until the phone rings and it’s LaCreshia on the other end saying can you come now? But alas, I am not that girl, that woman, just yet…and truthfully, maybe never. Right now I am still enchanted by a real size paycheck that will pay everything on time and leave a little for world travel…by owning a home of my own…by king crab and good steak…because I’m tired of quiet hours and no smoking and cars that break down and loans and ramen noodles. It’s a step up from roaches and slum lords and section 8, but, still, it aint. Even if I believe that you can never escape your class because it’s learned and it’s your teeth, and your speak, and the way you hold your silverware, your book…wait, if you’re holding a book at all…I still want it…because I’m tired of not having it. I want to know what it’s like to paint my walls without fear. To pick out my own refrigerator. To buy what I like when I like, even if I do see the lack of discipline it encourages.

Even in my frustration at myself for whatever I feel like I don’t do…I still realize that the system, this country, has failed me. Better, that it was never for me in the first place. That all I was ever meant to do was work for it, for them, until I could no longer work or lost my mind. I know that I’m supposed to break my back for it, and then be grateful that I was allowed to do so. And, I realize that what I’m doing can be considered just that. I realize it, and it hurts. I’m trying not to buckle, but it’s hard. I’m trying to play the game, but I’m tired. I’m trying to do the dance, but it’s not my kind of beat. And it becomes more and more obvious as time goes on, which is why midwifery in this place is so hard.

Yes, I realize what I’m dealing with, dark daughta, and it keeps me up at night. I am supposed to want all of this because that’s what it means to be a first generation college student. I’m supposed to want it because they never had it…because our car was always worth more than the house we lived in…because the schools never intended to prepare me for it… I am supposed to want it because I’ve just paid $100,000 to have it. And most days I do want it.

But there are days. Days when I think…but this isn’t even what you want…this isn’t what’s going to help the people you keep saying you want to help. How many black girls are gonna make it to the schools I’ll end up teaching at? Already they tell me my research interests won’t earn any funding, and until I have position in hand, I should read/write about this instead, because this is where the money is…so, really, what do I think I’m doing? It’s all swirling and I’ve been struggling with what to do and when to do it and why. About whether I really can make change from the inside, or if I really do have to do the work of creating a way of midwifing that speaks to me, specifically...and if I'm willing to give up the security of academia to do so.

Day Two

First: *SO* irritated that I missed the next "grade" level in Patho by 1 point. Literally 1 point. As in 1 more point on the exam and I would have made it to the next level for my final grade. I've come a long way since coming this close to failing the hard core sciences last year. LOL! Seriously.

New from the ACNM

The ACNM has issued a brief:

In America the burden of disease and premature, preventable deaths is borne disproportionately by politically disfranchised and economically disadvantaged communities. In all leading public health mortality and morbidity indices, there is a persistent gap between the privileged and the deprived that is euphemistically referred to as “health disparities.” Health disparities are “differences in the incidence, prevalence, mortality, and burden of diseases and other adverse health conditions that exist among specific population groups in the United States.”1 Even when access-related factors are controlled, such as insurance status and income, minorities still receive a lesser quality of healthcare.2 For African American women, the lifetime and generational exposure to institutional and interpersonal racism have been shown to affect pregnancy outcomes such as birth weight,3 as well as other health conditions.4

Read it in its entirety.

According to my Pathophysiology textbook,

"A person experiences stress when a demand exceeds a person’s coping abilities, resulting in reactions such as disturbances of cognition, emotion, and behavior that can adversely affect well-being....In the past decade, for the first time in history, it has been demonstrated that the interactions among social, psychologic, biologic, and behavioral factors are inherent in the causes and courses of many diseases...Physiologic stress may cause or exacerbate several disease states, including many of the diseases implicated as leading causes of death in the United States."

Here are a few of the diseases listed in a chart as being “Stress-Related Diseases and Conditions:”

Coronary Artery Disease
Hypertension
Stroke
Asthma
Ulcers
Type II Diabetes
Amenorrhea
Fatigue and Lethargy
Depression

And not in the chart, but in the ACNM document, PREGNANCY OUTCOMES.

These are only a few of many listed. Why did I pick these? Do they look familiar? They should. A lot of them are diseases for which black people disproportionately suffer morbidity and mortality. This is not new information. In fact my professors are quick to point these stats out at the institution. They will show and quote power points like this one from the CDC which tells of all the disparities. But what's always missing is context. Well here’s some: STRESS. Why doesn’t anyone say this? Why don’t they/haven’t they made the connection? It’s right here in the same damn textbook that they have been making us memorize for everything else. I want to say it as plainly as possible:

Experiencing RACISM, whether, overt, internalized, institutionalized, forgotten, ignored, debated, denied, or otherwise, is STRESSFUL. That stress manifests itself in many ways, one of which is poor health outcomes. THIS is one reason why it is so damn frustrating to be sitting in a classroom where we are supposedly discussing these inequalities in health care, incidence of disease, and health outcomes and NOT ONCE discuss racism as a factor.

I’m screaming at this point. I can’t help it. I thought that the reason they weren’t providing context was because they couldn’t, and that’s why I was trying so hard to provide it myself. But maybe the reality is that they don’t want to. It’s here. They’ve read it. You mean to tell me that my professors who are leaders in the field of nursing and midwifery have not read the 1999 article implicating the lived experience of discrimination and racism as having a direct effect on health outcomes for black women? Seriously? Not one of 'em? I don’t buy it. They read it, and chose, at the time of delivering the statistics to our class, to not mention it. Why? Because it’s easier to say “it’s lifestyle choices…poverty…living in congested spaces without fresh air, parks to play in, or safe food in the grocery store” than it is to say it is our history of oppression, racism, discrimination, abuse, brainwashing, disregard, disrespect, denial of humaneness, and good old fashioned hatred that created/perpetuated this. The lack of parks, clean air, and fresh food sounds more like an external “that’s just the way it is” or “we all need more of that” or “commercialism has ruined our society” factor…on the other hand, you suffer more heart attacks, maternal mortality, and type II diabetes because I raped your mother, stole your father, and worked your child into the dirt is just too damn hard to come to terms with…especially for those who can’t even come to admit to themselves that white privilege exists.

For those who wnat more details (I would, too) here's an example of how, physiologically, this thing thing plays out:

Obesity and Type II Diabetes: Cortisol (aka hydrocortisone) is a hormone of the body that inhibits the uptake and oxidation of glucose so that one has more glucose in the blood. Why would we need that? Because glucose is energy...energy needed to combat stress...the more stress you have, the more cortisol you produce, the more glucose you hold on to which leads to obesity...specifically, "cortisol-induced obesity," which they now think leads to Type II Diabetes. (p317)

I remember on another post emjaybe (no blog) asked something to the effect of “now what?”

I’m sitting here thinking about that. OK. You read the brief, looked up some of the articles, and are outraged. I’m crying and typing and trying to make a point. Now what? “Now what” is that the ACNM claims it’s ”striving to increase now underrepresented racial and ethnic groups among the ranks of our Profession” (I'm glad they said "now") Yeah ok. So let’s tell the truth about that right quick. What kind of midwife do you have to be to belong to the ACNM? Bellytales talked about it here. Ok, now exactly how many people who look like me meet these requirements? We have to get our children through high school first. Then undergrad. Then a friggin master’s degree. Who in the hell are you kiddin? Yeah, we’re coming but it’s a mighty slooooooow process, and honestly, by the time you get done beating me up and robbing me of my mind, I might not even have anything constructive to contribute to your damn Midwives of Color Committee. And by the time I get done experiencing the profession at my place of learning, honestly, the ACNM is probably the last place I’m trying to go…hmmm…more like the ICTC. Furthermore I think it’s safe to say that a lot of people who meet the requirements are already members of the ACNM…but acknowledging that CNMs to do not = the profession, the real question is do you want us in the profession, or in your academy? And is just any brown face you're looking for, or one who has had certain life circumstances or one who is committed to working on these disparities or one who is willing to be the poster child for your campaign? What exactly do you want from me?

“Now what” is more people talking about the shit that somehow stays buried. Stress. Stress from racism. Stress from invisibility, or in the case of crime prevention and the so-called war on drugs, stress from microscopic monitoring and existing while black. Stress. Talk about it. That’s what’s next. But more than that, write about it. Leave behind some proof that you acknowledged it and thought about it. Then what? (cuz I already did that) Scream about it. Don’t stop. Work through the fatigue. Type through the cramping. Make it your thesis, loving pecola. Your fuckin dissertation if necessary. One of a million platforms.

Now what?

Sleep. Sweet release, at last.

Day One of Freedom

A million things to say and no idea where to start. I feel like my head is going to explode with all of my thoughts. Common sense says "one thought at a time" but my thoughts don't emerge that way. My thoughts bounce around my skull, then they fight for my attention and the right to be first. My book list is long and overwhelming. I'm taking the pressure off of myself by saying even if I only read one book...one book chosen completely and entirely by me...I will have accomplished something. It's frustrating because after being crammed with junk from other people, it's harder to think for myself. It's like what do I say? About what? Why that? What can I possibly say that everybody else hasn't already said? That's what I would want to start with, but there's little of that left, I think?! What's for certain is that there should be no pressure involved in this undertaking of three weeks of freedom.

With that in mind, I've been tagged! I think already this tag before, but I'll do it again as an entry into my new found freedom!

I believe the rules are to post 7 random things and then tag folks.

1. My brother calls me "sister." I mean really. Like "mama" or "papa," but sister. As in never by my first name. Sometimes when I read characters in books who are called "sister" it seems so strange to think that that's what I'm called, too. I miss my brother. He's turning 13 on Sunday. I feel like I'm missing his whole life right now.

2. I love that navelgazing, and sagefemme, and darkdaughta post so many pics/videos on their websites. I'm jealous. I've been weighing my anonymity (what's left of it...which is very, very little) with putting it all out there so I can be creative, too. So far all I've convinced myself of is that I can post anonymous type photos, LOL. *sigh*

3. I watched Harry Potter last night and was disappointed with Hermione's character. I always liked her. She could be unappologetically smart and bold. But this time she had almost no role at all, except for a minute moment of critical thinking when she asked Harry "but what if that's what they want you to see?" Other than that, flat. So disappointed. But I did appreciate the whole "don't let the 'darkness' take over your mind, you must revenge against mind domination" plot of the movie, especially in light of my recent thoughts on the topic.

4. I am at the library and I am about to leave with "Growing Up Fast" by Joanna Lipper, "Promises I Can Keep" by Edin and Kefalas, and "Women, Race, and Class" by Angela Davis from the library.

5. My mama is coming to visit us in a week! I am *so* excited. Even if we don't do anything. Just to have her here. Just to lay around. Just to know that for almost week she will not have to lift a finger. Not cook. Not clean. Not even answer to "mama" if she doesn't want to.

6. I'm struggling with how I'm going to make a change in the world through midwifery. I worry that all of the things I want to do (teaching, clinical practice, and research) are not physically possible in the way I imagine them to be...at least not without taking a considerable (ie: unacceptable) amount of time away from my family. I know I can't plan for everything, but I'm thinking about it all.

7. My blog has been boring me.

End of the Semester

A WHNP classmate came into the room today where we were all about to take our Stats exam (the last final of the semester) and said:

"I just spoke to [our professor]; we all passed GYN."

You can imagine the excitement that produced. And the shock.

We took the Stats exam which was hard but not impossible, and then I went to find my teacher to ask her if I passed the primary care exam. I was thinking there's no way I want to leave here without knowing whether I'm done or not. She said yes you passed, everyone passed, and you can tell them so.

It's over.

Thank Gawd.

I can't believe I survived another semester.

I did it.

I did it.

Yes, uh huh, I did it.

GYN Final Exam

Usually I go through and mark the questions I don't know the answer to.

Today I marked the questions that I did know the answers to.

17.

Out of 58.

There was a massive vent session after the exam, which I did not participate in because I just didn't have the energy. I did look my questions though, which I don't always do after exams because it drives me crazy, but after a while I stopped looking them up because the answers were all wrong by some minor point. The general consensus is "well they can't fail everybody" but I don't trust my classmates. They always say this and then ace the damn exams. Right now I am venting because I have to get it out so that I can switch gears and study for Stats tomorrow...especially since I failed the last exam...after everyone swore they did so poorly and pulled in 100s, thereby fucking up the curve. After yesterday's questionable Primary Care exam, and today's joke of a GYN exam, I am stressed beyond words. I just wanna get it over with so I can hug the man, cook a good meal, and go to sleep.

1 more day.

1/2 Way...

through finals week.

2 down, 2 to go.

Patho yesterday was ok.

Primary Care today was scary.

GYN tomorrow is...is just...overwhelming? That doesn't seem to do it justice. I can. not. believe. how much material we've covered over this last semester...and now I have to take a test on all of it?

I dunno.

*sigh*

It's That Time Again

Finals are here, and I'm stressin, just a lil bit.

Deep breathing isn't really helping...but I guess it could be worse. I had my first ever panic attack last year, in nursing school. It was textbook; my heart was beating out of my chest, I couldn't breathe, my chest was hurting...I thought I was having a heart attack and that I was really going to die...shaking/trembling and feeling like I was going to faint. Yeah. It was bad. It was the day I received the "you're not cut out for nursing school" letter, which happened to be the night before a huge exam. That was my first and only attack, and really it has kept me from getting as stressed as I used to get about these exams because nursing school is not going to kill me. Nu uhn. I'm not having it.

I missed out on 4 hours of studying today because I had to take the shift of someone who had a final today. I usually get to study at work, but for some reason they gave me 3 hours and 20mins worth of work today. I could not believe it. Usually, when you are kind enough to fill in for someone...on a Saturday, they don't give you much to do and you can study. But not today. I wish I hadn't of taken this shift, but it's over in 15 blessed minutes. I have never had this much work to do at this job, it only takes me 45mins-1hr at the most. I'm working of my stress levels. It doesn't help that I have four finals this week, 3 of which are cumulative.

I will get through this week.

I will get through this week.

I will. Yes uh hun, I will.