hanging in there.

Well, I had a full circle moment the other day when I cried in math class. 

They weren't happy tears, either.

They were the kind of tears that come when you realize that something will never be easy, and you're just so tired because of it.  

Math, ugh, the bane of my existence.  

I sailed through psychology, humanities, sociology, and human growth & development.

I heard the angels singing in English composition. 

But math is basically a foreign language for me. I just have to drill, drill, drill until it finally sinks in.  

My tear-filled full circle moment, was produced by the sting of a failing grade; something I hadn't experienced in almost 20 years.  I felt that absolutely nothing had changed between then and highschool.

There wasn't any amount of life experience that could change my proficiency, or lack thereof, in (pre)algebra.  

Math doesn't care how many babies you had, how many cupcakes you've frosted with a perfect swirl.  Math doesn't care how bad you want to understand. There's no points for effort.  

I drove home, almost hyperventilating from panic and disappointment. 

I wondered if I have what it takes to finish college and be a nurse. 

But then I realized there's only one way to find out, and it's to proceed.  

Truth is, I don't have a bad grade, (89.5.)

I re-took the quiz and passed.

It's just soooo hard for me to master the units that a good grade doesn't feel like a victory, it's just passage into an even harder unit.  

Getting my math credits is the only thing keeping me from taking Anatomy, micro-biology and Chemistry, and then I can apply for the program.  

OMG, y'all, college at 37 isn't for the faint of heart.