Six hours. That’s how long I sat at my desk yesterday editing my thesis, a thesis I was afraid would not reach the minimum requirement of 25 pages. Well, I’m here to inform anyone who may be remotely curious that my paper is now 29 pages of actual text and six pages of footnotes and references. I’m spent, but it’s a rewarding kind of exhaustion because I completed an assignment that has been weighing on my mind for two and a half months. I cannot even imagine how long it would have taken me to craft a paper that didn’t tickle my fancy, so at least I had that going for me.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, college is the worst, especially for someone who isn’t down to party every weekend and blow through money that I don’t have or isn’t even mine. In my mind, I’ve rationalized college as a place of study, which is an apparent foreign concept to the masses. To others, it is a place to let loose and experience the horrible decade that is your 20s. I’m only two years in, and I’m not impressed. My old soul appreciates going to bed at like 8:30 every night and rising before dawn, mainly out of necessity, but I’ve literally turned into a grandmother, and I’m kind of okay with it.

It baffles me that I only have two more full weeks of this semester, which entails three more papers, three finals, two three-hour state certification tests, and work, of course. At this point, I’m over it, but as soon as I take my last final, I drive home, work a few days, and hop a flight to England. It is literally the only thing keeping me sane while I traverse through this last year of college.

It has been a wild ride with way more downs than ups, and I haven’t nearly scratched the surface with these little snippets from my life. One day I’ll delve deep into the archive and extract the most ridiculous things I’ve encountered over these four years as well as the hardships that gave me a reality check really quick and taught me the value of hard work.

A few blogs ago, I had mentioned that I was on the verge of a mental breakdown, and this past week, I got as close to one as I ever have before. Now, I’m not including this part of my week for pity or to vent my woes. I’m including it because I’m sure other young adults experience similar situations and have the same struggles. One of the reasons I began this site was to speak a truth I rarely hear anyone talk about, which is the real life of young adulthood. A life that includes work and school and the semblance of a social life. It’s hard, and I’m tired of the generalized assumption, especially from my own professors, that all college students have on their plate is their studies because I am the proof that it is the farthest assumption from the truth.

Next semester I student teach, and I am so excited to spend three months in the classroom in preparation for my own classroom one day soon. Last week, I attended the first meeting for student teaching, and while it was informative, it left me feeling more stressed and anxious than ever before.

I wish I would have known how intense next semester was going to be my freshman year of college. I would have liked to know in advance that I have to basically work full time without pay because I still have to work my current job next semester while I student teach. Again, this was one of those reality check moments. And before all you avid readers even think it, I’m going to explain why “just working over winter break” won’t solve my issues.

For starters, I will be out of the country for almost all of winter break. Second, I don’t know how people just work and save over summer break or even winter break. Do you not have bills of any kind, because I still have all my bills all year? Also, where are you working that you can save thousands of dollars over the course of three months or even one month because I’d love a reference? This will not work for me based off of the sole fact that I’ve worked two jobs every summer for three years, and I have not been able to accomplish this feat. I don’t even spend a lot, I just have to pay rent for a place I only live in for nine months out of the year.

So, this was one issue my brain was trying to tackle throughout the entire meeting. The other issue was that I also have to complete a portfolio, which in itself isn’t an issue. The problem lies in the fact that I had a class freshman year designed around this idea of the portfolio, and now I have to change everything I have on my site. Basically, I have to start from scratch because there are new requirements that I was only made aware of a week ago. This portfolio is also due right at the beginning of next semester, so I’m thrilled.

After the meeting, I got in my car and called my mother to vent as I usually do after a rough day. By the way, the city where I go to school is constantly under construction, and my commute to and from school is now compromised. I have to take a detour both ways which adds about 10-20 minutes to my drive. As I was driving, I could feel myself getting choked up because I didn’t know how I was going to get through the next semester. This semester was already the most taxing few months of my life, and I truly didn’t know if I’d be able to handle an even more stressful semester.

Ladies and gents, I had a breakdown in my car on a bridge downtown while snow blew frantically around my vehicle and clouded my already blurry vision. And then I happened to catch a glimpse of an iridescent spider crawling across the inside of my windshield. I was now on a busy highway because of the stupid detour, and now I was screaming bloody murder while sobbing uncontrollably at the thought of how anxious and stressed I’m going to be next semester. Eventually, I lost sight of the spider which made claustrophobia settle in, and made me freak out even more. The whole time my mom was trying to calm me down from 300 miles away. Let’s just say I’m lucky I didn’t crash that night.

I was a mess, and my mom kept trying to be the voice of reason saying that I’ll get through it and they’ll help me, but that makes me feel even worse. My parents already do more than enough for me, and while I do work all the time, it just doesn’t balance out. I always feel like I’m not doing enough, which sounds ridiculous now that I type it onto the page. I don’t live the same life as all my friends and peers, and I’ve accepted that. Others now just have to follow suit.

When I got home, I emailed my professor for student teaching, explaining my situation. I doubted whether she would understand because I’ve had professors in the past tell me that with my school and work schedule I would most likely fail. That’s right, professors insinuated that because I had to work full-time while doing school full-time that I would not succeed in my studies I proved them wrong considering I’m on the track to graduate with honors come May.

It turns out that my professor was very understanding and willing to work with me where the curriculum and scheduling allows, which is exactly what all my professors should have done from day one. If this snippet from my real-life encounters in young adulthood resonated with anyone reading, then it served its purpose. You can succeed in life no matter what hand you’re dealt. While I am privileged in some respects, I did have to work twice as hard to get to this point in my life. I wouldn’t change any of it; I just wish more understood that not all college students or people in general fit the same mold. As always, copious amounts of steaming caffeine got me through the week, because without it, I would not have survived this semester with the stumbling grace and blunt sarcasm typical to a woman just trying to get through this crazy, crazy life.